Chapter Twenty-Seven
—NOA
The rain is coming down in a steady stream. Thunder rumbles every few minutes. Along the beach, the waves are choppy and white capped.
Shawn and I are huddled under an umbrella as we approach the outside entrance to the Augustus Resort ballroom.
Since the rain hasn’t stopped, it’s doubtful Shawn will be able to convince Matteo to meet me out in the rain.
So… new plan. Nina scored me a plus-one ticket.
I’ll just have to pretend to know a guest if anyone asks.
Shawn fidgets with the sleeve of her dress.
“Leave it alone,” I tell her, swatting her hand away. “It’s supposed to be like that.” She groans and tries to recenter before entering.
Even huddled under an umbrella, Shawn looks beautiful. She’s wearing a short, sky-blue dress with capped sleeves. Her long blond hair cascades over her shoulders in loose waves. She helped me get into my old homecoming dress, which luckily still fit, although a little tight.
My father was gone by the time we left; he didn’t leave a message. He must have taken off from the dock, and I hope that’s a good sign. Still, I wish he would have told me where he was going.
“My feet already hurt,” Shawn says.
“Yeah, mine, too,” I tell her. “But it’ll be worth it.”
A couple decked out in diamonds and shirttails walk past us, shaking out their umbrella before pulling open the double doors to go inside. A wave of warm air escapes toward us.
I turn to Shawn. She grins.
“You ready to talk your ex-boyfriend into helping us expose the criminal enterprise taking over our town while also solving a forty-year-old murder mystery?” she asks.
“You make is sound so easy.”
“Then let’s go,” she replies with a laugh. She closes our umbrella and leans it against a corner outside the door before we go in.
“Oh,” I say immediately, looking around. “So this is nice nice. Got it.”
The ballroom is incredible. I’ve been in the Augustus Resort before, but not in this room.
There had never been a reason to before.
The ceiling feels one hundred feet high, a giant chandelier casting a twinkling yellow glow around the room.
There are sconces on the wall, delicate and expensive wallpaper, tables with elaborate floral displays.
A man in the corner at the black piano plays a melody, classic and haunting.
Women and men in tuxedos walk around with trays of tiny foods and flutes of champagne.
They’re part of a professional service agency.
They definitely didn’t trust this event to the locals.
“There’s Nina,” Shawn says, motioning toward the entrance. “I’ll let her know we’re here.”
As Shawn leaves, I turn to survey the room again, truly impressed. There are so many beautiful people. I notice Hailey in the corner, looking miserable in a gorgeous white gown. She’s standing with Creed, who appears to be her date. I think I’d be pouting too.
It’s then that I see Jamie across the room. My stomach flutters a bit. He’s wearing a dark suit, black tie, shiny shoes. His hair is combed smooth, his black eye adorable in contrast to his formal attire. Although I love his usual beach-prep look, right now—he’s a fucking babe.
I take a step toward him, almost forgetting why I’m here, when Jordan appears and takes his arm. I halt, swallowing down my disappointment. I forgot that we’re all here playing a part.
Jordan is a vision in an expensive emerald-green dress, her short dark hair flawless at her chin.
She laughs, holding Jamie’s arm. He glances down at Jordan, saying something that makes her laugh harder.
Even though there’s nothing between them, I am jealous at how they make sense together.
Like they’re from the same world. Surrounded by all this extravagance, this money, the line between the Collective and the Chasers has never seemed clearer.
“Who let you in?”
I jump, and quickly turn to find Matteo standing there. He smiles to let me know he was joking. He’s in a suit, but he doesn’t wear it nearly as well as Jamie. Other than a small scratch on the bridge of his nose, there’s no sign he was in a fight yesterday.
“I’m a plus-one,” I say, holding up my invite.
He glances at it and laughs. “You and I both know that’s fake,” he says. “You could have asked me.” He takes a step closer. “I forgot how well you clean up.”
“I doubt you forgot,” I say, leaning into my meanness because I know he likes it.
Matteo nods an approval and grabs two glasses off a passing tray, handing one to me. He comes to my side, and we both survey the crowd. He points out Jamie and Jordan.
“Ah,” he says. “Isn’t Dickhead with you?” he asks.
“I’m with me,” I say easily, and sip from my drink. “So why’d he kick your ass?”
Matteo laughs. “No one kicked my ass.”
He’s about to play off the entire thing, but when he meets my eyes, I don’t hide. I stare directly at him, and then his bravado falters slightly.
“What are you really doing here, Noa?” he asks.
“You said we needed to talk the other night,” I start. “And I think you’re right. We need to talk about what really happened to Felix.”
He darts his eyes around the room. Without a word, Matteo takes me by the arm and leads me toward the double doors of the terrace.
The rain hasn’t eased up, but Matteo grabs someone else’s umbrella on the way out. When we’re outside, he opens it to hold over both of us. The rain taps loudly on the screen, the air thick with the smell of damp earth.
“What do you know?” he asks, his voice urgent and hushed. “Was it Ellis? Is he back?”
I gasp, offended at the accusation. “No,” I snap. “Of course it wasn’t my brother.” There is tightness in my chest before I say the next words, afraid of how he’ll react. “I… I’m not sure how to say this, but I think your father is responsible.”
Matteo’s jaw clenches like he’s about to argue, but the fight in him dies quickly. His face starts to crack before he looks away sharply. When he turns back to me, his eyes are glassy with tears.
And I realize… he knows. Or at least, he suspects. My heart goes out to him—it really does.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry to do this right now.”
“I loved my cousin,” he says, as if trying to convince me. “No matter what, I hope you know that much about me.”
At one point, Matteo and Felix had been close. It eventually strained, but when you grow up with someone… it sticks, even beyond a few years of estrangement. Those kinds of relationships find a way of coming back around.
“I know you did,” I say, nodding. “And I can tell that you see it too. Your father was somehow behind this. He’s the one responsible. And I don’t think Felix was his only victim.”
To this, Matteo looks surprised. “What does that mean?” he asks.
“Your father is a criminal. He’s always been a criminal.” I swallow hard, knowing that I’ll be exposing us. “This goes all the way back to the Starline Hotel,” I say.
“Rum Runner Island,” he murmurs. “Of course it does.”
I’m surprised by the way he says it. “You know about it?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I mean, obviously, I’d heard the stories. But recently my father’s been getting bids to demolish the hotel, off the books, of course. Which was news to me since I thought the place burned down.”
“It’s not just that,” I say. “I think he’s trying to cover up a crime. I think he killed Florence Marsten for revenge or insurance money, or both. And not just her. He had a reporter killed. And he had Felix killed,” I say, feeling the weight of it. “He’s not going to stop. Not unless you help me.”
Matteo’s eyes flash with both pain and anger.
“You want me to go against my father?” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head.
“And do what? You think I have a choice here? Choices are for Chasers, Noa. You may think you have it tough, but at least you can leave. You can go anywhere. The rest of us”—he motions back to the gala—“are trapped here. Look at Felix. Look what happened to him when he went against my family.”
But I won’t let him make excuses, not when our entire lives are on the line.
“What do you know?” I demand.
“Not enough,” he says, frustrated. “Not enough to do anything about it. Hushed meetings, sketchy workers. It’s all…” He shakes his head. “It’s my gut, all right? It’s just my gut instinct and that’s not enough to change anything.”
“But why let him get away with it? He’s a murderer.”
Matteo stills, but he doesn’t argue. The thought seems to wound him, and after a moment, he shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what I can do,” he says. “I have no power here. You think he wouldn’t just kill me too?”
I can see that he believes that. And I can’t imagine how horrible it must feel.
“You don’t need power,” I say, a little more gently. “You just need to get us access to his office and his computer. Let’s have a quick look and see what we can find. We’re just missing a few final pieces.”
“We?” he asks. Then he laughs, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “You and Jamie are here together, aren’t you?”
My silence is the only answer I give him.
“This fucking guy.”
I ignore his bitterness. Now isn’t the time to placate his ego.
“So will you help us?” I ask quietly. Begging. “Can you get us into your dad’s office, just for a few minutes? We’ll be in and out. You won’t have to be involved in anything that comes after. I swear, I’ll never bother you again.”
“What if I want you to bother me?” he asks, suddenly vulnerable. This is the side he would show me sometimes. This softness. But being good once in a while isn’t enough. “What if no one else has ever listened to me the way that you did?” he adds.
I feel awful for what he must be going through. The loneliness up here in this gilded castle. But I’m not going to mislead him just to get what I want.
“I heard you talking to your father that day,” I say, my voice tight with the flash of embarrassment that’s still there. “I heard what you both said about me.”
He seems confused for a moment, and then nods slowly. “That makes sense,” he murmurs. “Yeah. I messed up, and I’m sorry. He just… he brings that out in me. But I didn’t mean it. I wish you would have told me sooner. I wish you could have given me another chance.”
Even now, this is about him. Not us—there was never an “us.”
“This is me giving you a chance,” I reply softly. “We don’t end up together, Matteo. But I do think there is a version of this where we end up friends. Where you do the right thing. Hell, you might even end up being the hero.”
“Imagine that,” Matteo says, like he’s afraid to believe it. His turns back to the gala, considering his options. After a few moments pass, he looks sideways at me. When I smile in return, he curses. “Okay, fine,” he adds. “What do you need me to do?”