Page 50 of One More Night

A real man? Not only does that make zero fucking sense, but if it weren’t for the respect I have for his father, I’d drag this dickhead outside and beat his pretentious ass for taking her money.

“When are you supposed to pick her up?”

He laughs, disbelieving. “Don’t tell me you want to fight for her affections?”

But when I answer with a menacing scowl, he crosses his arms like a petulant child. “Sunday. Five o’clock.”

Two nights from now.

Pushing to stand, I press my fingers to the bills still lying on the table. “Great. I’ll be sure to give her your apologies for canceling on such short notice.”

“No, no, no,” he sputters like a fish out of water. “I already made arrangements.”

Maybe I’m being too hard on him. After all, Heather has a right to date Ernesto if that’s what she really wants. But I can’t shake the memory of Penelope holding Leah, curled up together on the couch as she hiccupped through tears she should have never cried for him.

“Unless you want the school, and your father, to find out about your affair with the principal, then I suggest youunarrange them.”

“You have no proof,” he says with wavering confidence.

But the blood splotching his neck is all the confirmation I need.

Leah begged me not to track him down when she caught him. Clung to my arm, saying she loved him and didn’t want to embarrass him.

Now, however, I’d love nothing more than to finally make him pay.

I cock an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you willing to find out?”

Ernesto’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue further. He does, however, hit me below the belt before I make my exit.

“Since you’re taking the liberty of speaking for me, why don’t you tell Morton I saidholá?”

Icy pinpricks skitter from the top of my head to the base of my spine. My pulse ticks loud enough to deafen my ears, but I don’t dare give him the satisfaction of shocking me.

Tapping the table, I offer him a wide smile. “Pleasure doing business with you,amigo.”

CHAPTERTEN

Heather

Ernesto will be here in ten minutes to pick me up, and I still can’t decide which outfit I should wear. Up in the loft, I re-check my freshly straightened hair and minimal makeup in the full-length mirror beside my bed.

I adjust the straps of my red lace bra and smooth my hands down a new pair of leggings before holding up the two different dresses I bought from the boutiques at Pearl Beach.

“Which of these says,I’m using you, but I need this to look legit?”

Alice squints from where she’s propped up on the nightstand, attempting to get a better view through our video call. “You sure you should be going out with this guy? I believe your direct orders were to stay incognito.”

“Trust me. Augustine is like Topica Bay’s best-kept secret, and Ernesto is harmless.”

“Honey, no man is harmless,” she retorts. “Speaking of, what have you uncovered since we talked last?”

Priding myself as a journalist who’s thorough to a fault, I’ve decided not to let Alice in on Leah’s death, or the Matthews’s financial situation, until I compile as much crucial evidence as possible.

No sense in working her up, only to be mistaken.

“Not much,” I fib, “but that’s precisely why I paid this guy to go on a date with me to begin with. If I really want to uncover their secrets, I need to defer to the people who know them best.”

Sure, the idea came to me after panic-poofing said date out of thin air while arguing with Marcus, but hey, I wasn’t lying when I said I was resourceful.

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