“You don’t like him.”
An understatement. Duncan had taken everything from Clay’s family. And soon, Clay would take something that mattered to Duncan. “No, I don’t.”
“I cannot decide if you are trying to scare me off or if you are telling the truth.”
“If the truth scares you then you have no business opening a casino. The world is full of hard decisions and uncomfortable choices. You cannot be softhearted. What will you do when a friend with an outstanding debt comes crying to you that she cannot pay? Pat her on the head and tell her not to worry, that you trust she’ll give you the money eventually?”
“I am not completely sheltered, Mr. Madden. I know running a business won’t be easy.”
“Gambling is more than a business, Miss Greene. It is a way of life. A burning obsession for some. If you want safe, then procure a position at a department store.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Let me understand this. Agreeing to help me has nothing to do with the money I’m paying you, but rather revenge against my father.”
“Wrong. Everything I do is about money. The revenge is a nice side bonus.”
“As selfish as they come,” she muttered, repeating his words from earlier.
“That’s right—and you’d be wise not to forget it.”
Wait, Madden was trying to ruin her father. What did that mean? Bankrupt him? She didn’t think that was possible. Her father was careful with money and they were more than comfortable. Not to mention her father’s intelligence. No one pulled anything over on Duncan Greene. Except for her, of course. “Exactly how are you trying to ruin my family?”
Madden cocked his head and seemed to contemplate the question. Florence stared at him through her lashes. The casino owner was unexpected in so many ways. Yes, he was intimidating, but he didn’t treat her like a silly girl with the intellect of a housefly, as most of the men her age did. Instead, he listened and bantered back and forth with her. It was refreshing.
In truth, she’d been ready to pay more for his help. The Bronze House was the exact model for the casino she wished to open for ladies. Nowhere else came close, not in New York City. Furthermore, Madden was a reported genius, a shrewd businessman and excellent with numbers. Choosing someone else felt like settling.
And she needed to learn fast. She had less than two years to open her casino and build an independent future. Her father had recently begun pressuring Florence’s twenty-three-year-old sister, Mamie, to marry. At twenty-one, Florence was next in line for marriage. Duncan Greene’s patience for unmarried daughters would only last for so long, and Florence had no intention of handing over her life to some strange man. She intended to support herself instead.
Her plan had started six months ago. For years she’d gambled with her grandmother and her friends, who wagered jewelry and other baubles over weekly euchre games. The competition could get quite fierce and Florence realized that proper ladies love to gamble just as much as proper men. Unfortunately, there was no place women could safely do so.
She began wondering, why not? Why couldn’t ladies have a casino just for themselves, where no men were allowed? Hire female dealers and servers, provide employment to those who needed it. Things were changing rapidly for women in the city. Jobs, apartments, bicycles, independence . . . The old ways were dying off, changing. And she liked the idea of going into business for herself.
Where she could be her own person, live by her own rules and never be made to feel like she wasn’t good enough again.
So she’d started visiting the seedier parts of downtown to learn the games, a tiny pistol tucked in her bag for safety. Roulette in the West Village. Craps and fan-tan in Chinatown. Twenty-one near Wall Street. Without fail, she turned over her winnings to her sisters, who used the money to help the needy in the tenements.
Now she was here, in the poshest, most exclusive casino in the state. Though gambling was illegal, the Bronze House was never raided because Madden had the police force and a few politicians in his pocket. How did one do that? Florence had no idea, which was why she needed Madden’s assistance to learn the business.
But he was planning to ruin her father? How could she work with a man under those conditions?
He finally answered, “I’d rather not share my plans. They have nothing to do with you directly.”
“They do if they affect my family.”
“You might tell your father. I can’t risk it. Besides, he’ll learn of it soon enough.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. Was she actually considering this? Yes, because there were no other options, not in such a short amount of time. And shouldn’t she stick close to him in hopes of discovering how he planned to ruin her family? Then she could warn her father.
“I feel as if I’m making a deal with the devil,” she muttered.
“Indeed, you are.” His dark eyes glittered in the gloomy gaslight. “I never claimed to be a nice man.”
Her skin prickled with awareness. God help her, but that appealed to her even more. “You won’t scare me away.”
“Oh, but give me time, Miss Greene.” His voice was low and husky, a tone one would use with a lover. The man was clearly trying to run her off.
Which showed he had a lot to learn about today’s modern women. She was tougher than she looked and not about to quiver in fear before him. “You might as well call me Florence.”
The side of his mouth kicked up. “What would you have done had I not noticed you in my casino?”
“Keep coming back until you did.”
“I knew you were bribing my men at the door. I could have stopped you at any time.”
“And yet you didn’t. Was it because of my father?”
“Definitely not. I do not make allowances for anyone connected to Duncan.”
“Are you certain you won’t tell me your plans regarding him?”
“Absolutely positive.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “So what will it be? Lessons on how to operate the Bronze House for one hundred dollars an hour, or back to visiting the poolrooms?”
She nearly shuddered. The idea of never returning here, of going back to the poolrooms—seedy, filthy gambling haunts in rough neighborhoods—was depressing. Sitting here, she was closer than she’d ever been to her independence. She couldn’t leave.
She’d just find a way to thwart his revenge plans later on.
“Fine. I’ll pay for mentoring.”
“Call me Clay, then.” He pushed out of his chair and started toward the door.
When he turned the knob, she quickly stood. “Wait, where are you going?” They hadn’t settled on a tutoring schedule yet.
“Come along. It’s time to begin your first lesson.” He disappeared into the corridor, and she was left staring at the empty doorway. Oh. She hadn’t expected to start tonight.
Lifting her skirts, she hurried after him.
“Wouldn’t you rather hear what I am interested in, what I need help with?” she said to the wide shoulders draped in black wool. “You don’t even know what I am planning.”
He began to climb a small set of stairs, clearly ignoring her. Huffing out a frustrated breath, she started up behind him. “Are you going to answer my question?”