Chapter 43

Chapter 43
Under the cover of darkness, a young man tapped his finger on the table at the Nouveau bar, seemingly waiting for someone. Several people glanced at his table, the small part of his face that they could see pulling at their heart strings.

When he finally looked up, some women poked their friends in the ribs, not wanting to be the first to go speak to him.

He had a contrasting sort of handsomeness. His face was exuding a confidence that bordered on ruggedness, but his energy was gentle, soft, deceitful. 

Like a carnivorous flower, beautiful and inviting on the outside, but stick your hand in and it would clamp down.

He looked at a red head near the bar and winked. She shyly looked down. He let out a laugh. It had the consistency of a bell, slightly raspy and jaded.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Arlo”, a short middle aged man came to sit beside him, a small smirk on his face.

“Mr Rowan. Long time no see.”

Mr Rowan looked like a tired accountant in a cheap suit, but in this city, he was the gatekeeper of all the important news that needed to be known.

He had the widest network, and he was the most likely to camp outside your house for three weeks just to get information. 

Arlo knew that the only reason Aria hadn’t been caught with Aston was because Aston’s security detail was insane. 

"It’s a bloodbath, kid," Rowan said, his voice rough like sandpaper. "The princess of scandal is back, and she’s trending higher than the freaking prime minister. You’re asking me to kill a goldmine, Arlo. Unless you’ve got a video of the Pope doing lines of coke, I’m running the 'Incestuous Heiress’ headline in an hour."

Arlo leaned forward. The movement was fluid, completely devoid of the soft, cautious grace Aria usually carried. He rested his elbows on the table, the sleeves of his oversized denim jacket bunching up. 

The dim, amber light of the bar caught the sharp line of his jaw, sculpted with a touch of contour, looking every bit like the man she pretended to be.

"Rowan," Arlo said, his voice dropping into a husky, chesty register. It wasn't too deep, it carried the bored weight of a man who had seen too much. 

"You’ve always been a bottom-feeder. That’s why you’re still sitting in bars while the big houses get the Pulitzer."

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. "Watch it, brat. I don’t care how many winks you give the barmaids—"

"Forget the girl," Arlo interrupted, "She’s a distraction. Small-time drama for people who have nothing better to do. Do you want to keep chasing some 'scandalous' woman, or do you want to be the man who broke the collapse of the Tri-State Syndicate?"

Rowan froze. 

“The Syndicate? They’re untouchable. Their board members are impossible to talk about."

"Were impossible to talk about. You didn’t have any information," Arlo corrected. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a single, crumpled slip of paper. 

He didn't hand it over. He held it just far enough away that Rowan had to strain. "Three of the biggest movers of Vanguard Holdings have been gone for twenty-two days. Not on vacation. Not at 'retreats.' Just gone.”

Arlo’s eyes, darkened by subtle liner to look more sunken and intense, bored into the journalist. "They were last with a representative from the line, Givana Anaus. Since then? Radio silence. The company is using AI generated deepfakes for their quarterly video addresses."

Rowan reached for the paper, but Arlo snapped his hand back.

"The board is full of rats, Rowan. If the market finds out the big three are likely at the bottom of some ocean or in a basement decaying, Vanguard’s stock hits zero by Monday morning and the city’s economy follows. That’s not a stupid scandal. That’s a revolution."

Rowan’s breath hitched. His mind was clearly spinning, calculating the sheer weight of the legal risk versus the immortality of the scoop. "How do I know you’re not lying?"

"Check the flight logs for their terminal. Look for the tail number 'V-4492.' If I’m lying, publish the Aria story and I’ll pay you double the lost revenue. If I’m right..." Arlo leaned in closer, the scent of expensive tobacco, a scent Aria had carefully applied to her collar, wafting over Rowan. "You bury every single mention of Aria Griffin."

Rowan stared at the young man. He saw a ruthless informant, a man who played with fire like it was a toy. 

"Fine," Rowan whispered, snatching the paper as Arlo finally let go. "The girl gets a pass. For now. But Arlo... if this is a dud, I’ll hunt you down myself."

"I like being hunted," Arlo quipped with a sharp, dangerous grin. 

“What do you get out of burying Aria’s news?”

“Let’s say…I have a little crush,” Arlo winked and stood up, adjusting his cap. Rowan’s heart skipped a beat and he grit his teeth in irritation. He was a straight laced man! As straight as they came! He hated how he always looked at Arlo a little bit differently. He couldn’t afford to ever question his sexuality for a young man like that. 

As Arlo walked out, his hand glinted, and Rowan’s eyes went to it. Huh, he hadn’t known his little informant was already married. As soon as the thought appeared in his head, Arlo’s last statement suddenly hit him.

Could Arlo… be married to Aria Griffin?!

Rowan’s hand itched and he squeezed the paper in his hand. He’d monitor the news. The day the news was going to drop was going to be one of the biggest days of Rowan’s life, he could guarantee it!

Aria stepped into the cool night air, her heart hammering against the binders under her shirt.

She had met Rowan sometime when she was 18, as Arlo, and she had used him to suppress her news ever since. He had no idea that Aria was Arlo, despite his sharp nose for gossip. 

Back then, she never had too much to trade, so Rowan suppressed it for a little bit before letting it fly again. It didn’t completely eradicate her scandals but it lowered their spreading a bit.

Not anymore though. She was grown now and she had supplied Rowan a giant arsenal of information that would forcefully bury her own scandal. She had bought herself time, but she knew the cost. She had traded a reputation for a death warrant from Aston.

The people missing were among the people she had seen at the party. They would never be found again, Aston had killed them all and Aria had gotten rid of any remains. That wasn’t what she was worried about.

What she was worried about was Aston getting mad at her for leaking his tightly kept secret.

“It’s only a matter of time.”