Intrigued, I hold one of the hundreds and the twenty up to the light, side by side, and check them as Simone taught me. President Jackson looks down on me from the twenty and Franklin from the hundred. The artwork is detailed on both. They look legitimate. But something is off. I concentrate on the hundred and run the bill between my fingers. Sure enough, it feels different. The twenty has raised print, the hundred does not. There’s also the slightest variation in color at the edges. Both have the red and blue threads Simone told me about, although the patterns are different.
A prickle runs up the back of my neck. I set down the twenty and raise the two hundreds to the light. Same thread pattern. My heart starts to pound. I snatch the Echo Mills Today off my nightstand, open it with vigor, and tear a page from the front. Holding my breath, I lift it to the light, side by side with one of the hundreds. Holy fucking hell. Maeve thought Echo Mills was printed on recycled paper. No, it’s printed on counterfeit money paper! All at once, I remember Hank at the Mobil station, how he’d been so sure I wouldn't call the police. Had he known the hundred I'd given him was counterfeit?
Tony isn't earning money from Echo Mills Today. He’s printing his own money and using the magazine as his cover! As soon as I think it, I know it’s true.
“Holy shit. Gotcha, you bastard.”
At dusk,inside the building across the street from Tony's penthouse condominium, I light the candle to call Damien. Smoke curls against the dingy tile of the burnt-orange coffeehouse bathroom, growing from the shadows under the sink and behind the garbage can before coalescing into the shape of a demon —horns, wings, and a whip of a barbed tail. When the smoke settles, the monster is replaced by the man who's taken up residence in my mind the last few weeks.
He brushes his hands down the sleeves of his jacket, grimacing at me. “A bathroom, Eloise? Do you have any idea how filthy the shadows are in this place?”
“I’m sorry. I know you said you had business, and I probably interrupted you, but it’s an emergency. Ineed you. It was faster to call you here directly than to travel here from my place.”
He pauses his efforts at dusting himself off and gives me a long once over, his brilliant ice-colored eyes lingering on my curly red hair and then the neckline of my royal blue dress. He hasn’t seen me since I changed my hair and wardrobe, and he looks speechless. After what feels like a full minute of his intense scrutiny, he whispers, “There you are.”
“Here I am.” I laugh and bite my bottom lip, smiling under his appreciative gaze.
He steps closer and brushes cool fingers over my heated cheeks. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you genuinely laugh.”
“It’s the first time I’ve felt happy in a long time.” I swallow and admit the truth. “The way you look at me makes me happy.”
He surges forward, sweeping me into his arms and holding me against him. I’m breathless and entirely aware of every part of him as he says, “If I had my way, I’d spend the entire night staring at every part of you just to hear that incredible laugh. It’s silver moonlight, that laugh. You are positively enchanting, Eloise.” My name on his lips makes something heavy and low within me turn over, and my body hums with need. He brushes a hand over my curls, his gaze boring into mine. When he speaks again, he lowers his lips to my ear. “What do you need of me? Say the word so that I can do it quickly and then have you to myself.”
My breath hitches at the feel of him hardening against me, and I rise on my tiptoes to kiss him. I moan when he moves his hands lower to cup my ass.
Dizzy, I give a breathy chuckle as I put space betweenus. “I want that too, but I really do need your help with Tony.”
“Have you decided to let me kill him?” he asks hopefully.
“No, but I have a plan. All I need you to do is come with me to his penthouse and keep him from killing me while I say what I have to say to him.”
He sets me on my feet and takes a step back, his lips peeling off his teeth. “How much am I allowed to hurt him to keep him from hurting you?”
I swallow, the memory of Hank's body slapping the side of the Mobil station moving front and center in my mind. “No permanent damage.”
He returns a reluctant nod.
I snuff out the candle and put it in my purse. “Follow me.”
Completely disregarding the gaping mouth of an old woman in the hallway as we exit the ladies' room together, I walk across the street to Tony's building with Damien trailing behind me. The pink Tory Burch tote tucked under my arm contains my last chance at ending this without resorting to using Damien in a way I know I’ll regret.
It takes the doorman a second to recognize me. “Mrs. Denardi, I wasn't expecting you.”
“Harcourt,” I remind him. I kept my maiden name and he knows it. “Good evening, Ralph. I need to talk to Tony. Can you buzz me up?”
The elderly man adjusts his hat and shifts in his chair, overtly uncomfortable. He picks up the phone, his gray eyes darting away from me. “I'll call him and let him know you're here, sweetheart.”
I reach across the small desk and depress the button on the old-fashioned landline phone he’s using. Ikeep my finger there as I stare him straight in the eye. “Ralph, I’m not divorced yet, which means, until the judgment comes down, I have a right to access our penthouse. In fact, I still have the key.” I’m not bluffing. I hold up my old key. No one has asked me for it. “All I need you to do is your job. Buzz me through to the elevators, and we'll be on our merry way, and I won't have to get lawyers or police involved.” I hold up a finger. “And if you want to call Tony once I'm on that elevator and tell him I'm coming, go right ahead.”
Slowly, I release the button, but I don't take my eyes off Ralph. His throat bobs, but he reaches down by his knee, and the door buzzes. I lunge for the handle and Damien and I board an open elevator.
“What exactly happened to you while I was gone?” Damien asks once the doors are closed, studying me in the small compartment in a way that sends fire jetting through my veins. Being in his presence is always so intense.
I lift an eyebrow. “I gave myself a makeover.”
He licks his lips. “More than just the wardrobe.”
Glancing at my manicure, I admit, “I was tired of playing the part he forced me into. I guess I just needed to remember who I was before him.”
