“Fuck off.”
“What are you two talking about?” Florence asked.
“Allow me to apologize for Mr. Madden,” Jack said to her. “He sometimes forgets his manners.”
“That’s quite all right. I’ve heard worse.”
Jack’s expression held a note of warning as he looked back to Clay. “I’ll return to the floor, if you don’t need me.”
“No, you’ve done enough.” Clay waited for Jack to leave before glancing at Florence. “Do you still plan to open a casino in the city?”
“Of course.” Her brows drew together. “I’ll not change my mind.”
Time would tell on that. “Then you’ll need to learn the most important lesson, one that isn’t taught in any book.”
“Oh? And what lesson would that be?”
“How to successfully bribe the police. Come along. You’re about to get a demonstration right now.”
Chapter Five
Florence shifted on the uncomfortable stool then looked up in Clay’s general direction. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was there. She could feel the heat of him, smell the cigar on his clothing. He was large and intimidating, and they were all alone in this tiny dark closet. A shiver went through her.
But not from fear. Oh, far from it.
Stop. Lord, her imagination was getting away from her around this man. She needed to focus. Her increasing lust would need to wait until she was back home, undressed and under the covers. Right now she had to learn about the inner workings of a casino.
Though she definitely looked forward to that under-the-covers time.
Clearing her throat, she folded her hands in her lap. Look the part. She could do whatever was required, even pose as a respectable uptown lady when necessary.
Without making a sound, Clay shifted something on the wall and a tiny sliver of light was revealed. The eyehole, he’d called it. She leaned forward and pressed her eye to the opening. Goodness, it was Clay’s office. She could see his desk and the chairs quite plainly. A large man in a brown suit occupied one of the chairs. Bushy red sideburns covered most of his face, a matching mustache drooping over his lip. Big Bill, Jack had said. She tilted her head toward Clay. “But who—”
A large hand covered her mouth, his skin rough against hers. These were not the hands of an uptown swell used to yachting and horse racing. These were a man’s hands, thick and toughened from hard work. Capable hands. Her heart pounded, and a rush of excitement caused her nipples to stiffen inside her underclothes. As if he sensed her reaction, his fingers tightened on her skin, the tips pressing slightly deeper into her flesh before easing off. A huff of breath gusted over her temple, the sound remotely like frustration. Was he annoyed with her?
She suddenly longed to see him wild and unbuttoned, his cool demeanor ruffled for once. What did it take to rattle this enigmatic man?
His lips met the shell of her ear. In the faintest of whispers, he said, “No sound in here. You must remain absolutely still and not speak.” She jerked a nod and he released her. “Good girl.” Then he disappeared into the corridor and Florence sagged, the air leaving her lungs. Sakes alive, he was potent.
Perhaps knowing he found her attractive made her more comfortable around him. There were no secrets, his motives entirely transparent. He saw her for exactly who she was . . . and hadn’t judged her. When was the last time that had happened, if ever?
Clay’s office door opened and the man himself walked in. Florence pressed her eye to the hole, not wishing to miss a moment of this interaction.
“Bill. This is unexpected,” Clay said on his way to his desk.
“Evening, Madden.” The man rose and she immediately saw why they called him “Big Bill.” He was well over six feet and the buttons of his vest strained around his torso, as if he had gained weight but hadn’t bothered to adjust the size of his clothing.
They shook hands before Clay settled himself in his desk chair. She could see his face clearly and Bill’s profile. “Was there an issue with yesterday’s payment?”
“You know the issue. When I agreed to invest in the Bronze House we had an understanding about the profits.”
“That’s correct. I agreed to revisit your percentage after the first year based on how the casino performed.”
“And I still haven’t received that revisited percentage. This is the most profitable casino in the city, possibly the state, and you’re holding out on those profits.”
Clay reached for a humidor on the desk, flipped open the lid and offered Bill a cigar. The other man selected one then Clay took a cigar for himself, and soon they were both exhaling smoke. “Bill, if I had intended to swindle you I would’ve done it already.”
“Not when you need the city’s police department to look the other way. If it weren’t for me, you’d have been raided and shut down already.”
“And if it weren’t for me your wife would not have that new vacation house in the Poconos.”
“How did you . . . ?”
“I know everything about you.” Clay pointed at Bill with his cigar. “You bought her the house in the Poconos and renovated your old brownstone in Brooklyn off our money. The problem is that she’s now clamoring for another vacation house, this time down in Virginia, which you don’t quite have the sawbucks for, do you?”
“Jesus. Do you have a spy in my house?”
Clay’s lips twisted in what Florence suspected was satisfaction. “Bill, you don’t seem to understand how this works,” he said. “You were brought on as an investor to protect my casino from the police and political meddling. Which makes you my investment, one that I watch over very carefully. Because the second you are no longer useful to me, or you work against my interests, I will replace you with someone else.”
“I’d like to see you try,” the other man shot back. “There’s only one man higher at the entire department and he’d never sell himself out to the likes of you.”
Clay shook his head, as if Bill wasn’t understanding. “There’s also the commissioners. Do you honestly believe I don’t already have influence there, as well?”
Clay had bribed one of the police commissioners?
“And that’s not even touching City Hall and the judges. I need you, Bill, but you are not irreplaceable to me. No one is.”
Gooseflesh broke out on Florence’s skin. He was so cool. Calm. Threats rolled off his tongue the way society men doled out compliments. And why do I find that so appealing? She was riveted, more excited than she’d been in eons. What was wrong with her?
“I don’t believe you. Without me, you’d be out of business within a week.”
Clay smiled coldly at that, the look so full of dark menace that Florence couldn’t understand how Bill wasn’t cowering in a corner. “That sounds like a threat. Are you threatening me?” He sounded positively gleeful at the prospect, as if he hoped the answer was yes.
She licked her lips. The air was stifling in the tiny closet, and a trickle of sweat rolled down her chest and between her breasts. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off Clay. He was utterly fascinating.
“You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Madden.”