Page 74 of No Headlines Please

I told Delaney, "It doesn't matter how I got it. Let's just say I discovered some side hustles that weren't sitting so great."

Delaney blinked. "You mean like…OnlyFans?"

I stared. "What?"

"You know, that website where people monetize being hot? And their subscribers pay extra for photos and videos?" She lowered her voice. "And maybe other stuff?"

She looked so flustered, I almost smiled. "I know what OnlyFans is."

"Well, that makes one of us, because I know almost nothing." She cocked her head to the side. "Like…do people pay a monthly fee? Or do they pay like twenty bucks a photo?"

More like a thousand bucks a photo. Except I wasn't talking about OnlyFans. I meant that shot of me and Sloane leaving that resort, which she'd sold for a cool grand. To this day, I still had no idea who had taken it. But the money trail had led straight to Sloane.

As far as OnlyFans, I knew just as much as Delaney. I shook my head. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"So…you've never used it…the site, I mean?"

The idea was laughable. "Hell no." Forget the logistics. When it came to women, I didn't share.

Delaney gave me a sheepish smile. "I think I got you off-track again."

She wasn't wrong.

Unfortunately, every time I started talking about Sloane, I found myself remembering something new.

Delaney's smile faded. "So you mentioned financial stuff. You already said it wasn't related to debt, so what was it related to? A side hustle could be almost anything."

There was no polite way to put this. My jaw flexed. "She was profiting from things that didn't belong to her."

"What kinds of things?"

I considered everything I'd discovered nearly too late. The tips to reporters. The leaked conversations. Hell, even the catering from our wedding.

Correction. Cancelled wedding.

Thank God for that.

In reply to Delaney's question, I said, "Everything."

She hesitated. "I don't suppose you could be more specific? Like…she didn't run around selling your furniture, did she?"

"No."

"So? What did she sell?"

"Information. Photos." Thinking of all that untouched catering from the wedding that never happened, I gave Delaney a wry smile. "Hell, even food."

She frowned. "So…like lobster bisque, huh?"

Far too late, I recalled Delaney's reluctance last night when I'd insisted on ordering that extra bisque to go. She'd loved the idea. I could tell. And yet, she'd told me repeatedly I didn't have to.

She was right.

I didn't have to.

I'd wanted to.

Big difference.