FOURSHARP DRESSED MAN
Mateo Luna stood in the doorway and peered inside. The space was large, cavernous, and a long way from finished. With its plywood floors and unpainted walls, it offered no clues about the exclusive nightclub it was destined to become.
It was the last place Mateo wanted to be, and he seriously considered leaving before anyone noticed he was there. Every passing day it seemed his life belonged less to him and more to everyone else.
“Oh, you’re here!” Heather bounded across the room, her brown eyes flashing, blond hair bouncing over her shoulders. “How long have you been standing there?”
Mateo glanced at Ira as he walked alongside her. With his dark jeans, sharply pressed untucked black shirt, and unreadable expression, there was something vaguely ominous about him.
“Welcome to RED.” Ira chased the words with the kind of tight grin that set Mateo on edge. Then again, Ira often had that effect.
Heather nudged Ira with her elbow and rolled her eyes. “He calls it RED, even though he’s planning for an all-white decor.” She laughed at the absurdity of it all.
Mateo picked at the woven bracelet he wore on his left wrist—a gift from his little sister, Valentina, a few birthdays back. At the start of the summer he’d never given it much thought. Now it served as one of the few reminders of the sort of blissfully simple life he’d once lived.
“How’s your sister?” Ira squinted through a veil of construction dust their footsteps had kicked up. “Valentina, right?”
Mateo squinted back. He’d met Ira before, most recently at Ira’s tequila launch party, but Mateo couldn’t remember ever having a conversation about Valentina. Had Layla, or even Heather, mentioned it to him? Mateo briefly considered it. It seemed improbable, but not impossible.
“Cancer’s a bitch.” Ira’s gaze sharpened, as though he’d just said something profound and was expecting Mateo to commend him for his brilliance.
Instead, Mateo focused on Heather and said, “You ready?” She’d sent him a text, claiming she needed a ride. But now that he was there, she seemed content to hang around.
“What’s the hurry?” she said. “Don’t you want to see the new club?”
Mateo shook his head. “I’m not much for clubs.” He wasn’t much for Ira Redman either and saw no point in pretending otherwise.
“Aw, yes.” Ira’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I seem to remember your bit on Trena Moretti’s show. Something about club owners not giving a crap about the kids who are making them rich.” He tilted his chin and peered at Mateo from under a lowered brow. “Or something to that effect.”
It was weird how Ira had quoted him verbatim. Had he actually been insulted by Mateo’s words? You’d think he’d be used to that sort of criticism, or at least better equipped to handle it. But like many in the Hollywood crowd, Ira’s praise-seeking narcissism made him surprisingly thin-skinned and easily offended. He was also rumored to keep a growing list of enemies. Mateo idly wondered if he was on it.
Ira stared at Mateo as though he expected an apology. Mateo embraced the silence. The description fit and he had no intention of taking it back.
“At any rate,” Ira said. “Sorry to hear about your brother Carlos. Though I assure you, I’ve never had anyone overdose at one of my clubs. If I did, I would never dump them outside and leave them to die.”
“No,” Mateo said, his voice full of venom. “Maybe no one’s overdosed, but someone did get roofied. You remember what happened to Aster the night Madison went missing? She was drugged right there in your club. From what I heard, you poured the champagne.”
If Mateo had blinked, he might’ve missed the flash of seething anger that crossed Ira’s usually impenetrable face. It vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, but Mateo had caught it, and the way his lip curled in response told Ira as much.
It was a risky move, baiting the beast. But Mateo had reached a point where he no longer cared. He was one of the few people in his small group of friends who was not reliant upon or indebted to Ira in any way. He planned to keep it that way.
“Well!” Heather clapped her hands together and pasted an exaggerated sitcom smile onto her face. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.”
Mateo stared in confusion. As far as he knew, he was there to provide a ride and nothing more. He should’ve known Heather had something else planned, otherwise she would’ve ordered an Uber.
He had no idea what he was doing there. Actually, scratch that. He knew exactly why he was there. He was just too ashamed to admit it.
His sister was sick. His mom was a wreck. His ex-girlfriend was in jail for a crime she didn’t commit. And Mateo was stuck in a job he hated but was lucky to have.
The huge sums of money he was paid to smolder for the camera helped to cover Valentina’s astronomical medical bills. Still, he couldn’t help feeling embarrassed every time he passed a billboard that featured his face.
It was Heather who’d helped him get started. Without her his family would be a lot worse off. There was no denying he owed his good fortune to her. Still, that wasn’t the only reason he’d jumped at the sight of her text.
He was lonely—a relationship guy who sucked at being single. And in the midst of his life falling apart, Heather had become his favorite go-to distraction.
Problem was, while he knew why he was with her, he was beginning to suspect her reasons for seeking him out weren’t quite as pure as she pretended they were.
“I guess I should’ve been more up-front.” She bit her bottom lip in that adorable way that she had. Only lately, Mateo was beginning to find it far more manipulative than cute. “Thing is, Ira wanted you to swing by
