But his finger is still on the trigger.
It’s a posture Tony would take. At once decorous while harboring barely contained violence. His shoulders shrug beneath a tailored suit jacket the color of money.
I back up a step.
“Stay where you are, Eloise. I don’t need a tour. We can do this right here.”
I’ve never met this man, but his resemblance to Tony is too close to be a coincidence. “Who are you?”
“Jared Denardi.”
“Jared…” I don’t remember him.
“We’ve never met. I’ve only recently returned to the area with my cousin’s passing. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. Tony was a good man.”
Is he fucking kidding me? I look at my feet and force my face to remain impassive. “My condolences to you and your family. Tony and I were separated, but I wished him no ill will.”
“That’s good to hear, Eloise, because my family needs your help rectifying a simple misunderstanding.”
“What’s that?”
Jared’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Some friends of ours at the bank notified us that you refused the money you were owed from Gold Weaver. We need you to change your mind about that. Take the money.”
I flinch. Of all the things I expected him to say, that was not on the list. “Why? I don’t want Tony’s money. You keep it.”
He rocks back on his heels, the nose of his gun twitching slightly. He pulls a frown that somehow comes off as threatening as well as disappointed. “Yeah? Well, neither does the Denardi family. You refuse that money and it goes back to Tony’s estate and then to us. That’s unacceptable. This whole operation happening under your house has drawn the wrong kind of attention. The Denardis want nothing to do with it, understand? Your name was on those accounts because Tony loved you and wanted you to have it. You were his wife. You were aware of his affairs. You deserve it.” His sleazy, disingenuous tone is one I remember Tony using far too well.
“No, actually,” I say, heart hammering, “I had no idea what Tony was doing and was never involved with any of it. I don’t want the money. Donate it to charity.”
He raises his chin and stares down his nose at me. An exasperated sigh leaves his lungs. “That’s not what’s going to happen, Eloise. You will accept that money.”
“Or what?” I try to sound brave but my voice shakes. I can’t take my eyes off the gun.
“Or your estate will receive the money,” he says softly through his teeth.
My estate. Like after I’m dead. “And what happens if I take the money?”
“Then we’ll be in touch. Our family has an excellent accountant and financial advisor who can show you exactly what to do with it.”
“While I’m fending off the FBI.”
He shrugs. “If you weren’t involved as you say, I predict you’ll slide right out from between their greasy fingers.”
“Are you suggesting I grease those fingers?”
He shrugs again. “You’ll have plenty of money to do so if you accept what’s coming to you. A year from now, they’ll give up this investigation and you’ll be golden.”
Right. If golden means entangled with the mob. I have to get this guy out of my house. “Fine. I’ll talk to my lawyer,” I say, trying to appease him.
It seems to work because he nods appreciatively. “You do that.”
The doorbell rings. Maeve.
“Are you expecting company?” He glances over his shoulder at the door.
“It might be Agent Fuller.” It’s a lie but one that has the desired effect.
His eyes narrow and he side-eyes the door, slipping the gun into the back of his waistband and covering it with his jacket. “We’re done here. For now. Back door?”
