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 Jamiearehere 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.”
