Anna hooted, a gleeful grin overtaking her delicate features. “Oh, I like her. I approve, Clay. I approve.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. She’s hired me to give her lessons on how to run a casino. That’s all.”
“And you agreed? It cannot be for the money. God knows you have enough of that.”
No, he didn’t. One could never have enough money, especially in New York City. “It . . . pleases me to assist her down the path of debauchery and vice. Mostly because I loathe her father and I know how much it will irritate the old bastard.”
Anna sobered, her brows pinching together. “I don’t like you using her. Men and their hidden motives. Women have it hard enough without being lied to—”
“I haven’t lied to her about a thing. In fact, I told her how much I hate her father.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I also informed her that I was attracted to her.”
That caught his friend off guard. “How did she take that news?”
“Not as expected,” he admitted. “I thought to scare her off by telling her, actually. She merely asked if I planned to force her. When I said no, she threatened to shoot me if I hurt her.”
Anna’s lips pressed together like she might be fighting to hold in laughter. She hid her face by taking a long drink of bourbon. “So you’re not planning on bedding her?”
“It would be a terrible idea. Women of her ilk get ideas after intimacy.”
“Know a lot of fancy uptown ladies, do you?”
“I know enough. And even I would not fuck a woman purely as revenge against her father.” An eye for an eye.
“What if she’s attracted to you, as well?”
He shook his head. Florence Greene had her pick of men in Manhattan. Why on earth would she settle on a man like Clay, who lived in the shadows? “She isn’t, nor will she be.” Not after spending a significant amount of time with him. He wasn’t capable of romance and warmth. Of long walks and picnics in the park. He preferred the nighttime, with its damp fog and anonymity.
Anna tossed back the remaining liquid in her glass. “I’d best return next door.” She rose. “Shall I send over a nice young woman to keep you company tonight?”
He thought about it. The problem was Anna’s people were being paid. Clay didn’t like feigned passion. And he knew his face wasn’t the kind to draw admirers. “No, that’s not necessary.”
“Clay.” Her voice gentled and he braced himself. “You’ve been alone far too long. What’s it been since that pretty widow, a year?”
Eleven months, but who was counting? “Stop wasting your pity on me. I’m perfectly fine. Go see to your business.”
“I’m not going to drop this. You deserve happiness.”
No, I didn’t, he thought as he watched Anna leave. He was not a good man. His entire life he’d traded on fear and violence to get what he wanted. Namely, money, power and Duncan Greene’s ruin. Only after he succeeded would Clay turn his eyes toward a legitimate venture—one that might turn him into someone deserving of a slice of happiness.
Until then, he was more than happy to embrace the darkness.
Florence Greene had said it was like making a deal with the devil. She wasn’t that far off.
“And where were you last night?”
Florence tore her gaze away from the passing buildings to cast a bland stare at her younger sister, Justine. It was midmorning and the three Greene sisters were traveling a few blocks south to visit their grandmother. “I don’t know what you mean. I was home.”
“No, you weren’t. I came to see you around eleven-thirty and your bed was empty.”
“I have a good idea where she went,” Mamie said. “And I bet it starts with the letters b and h.”
“The Bronze House? Again?” Justine’s brows nearly touched her hairline, they were so high. “Did you at least win?”
“Of course.” As if she’d lose. “And I’ll donate the money to your charity, as usual. Why is no one asking Mamie about where she went last night?” Florence knew full well that her older sister had gone out to see a man. Why was a trip to the Bronze House more interesting than Mamie’s tête-à-tête?
“Now, that is interesting. I know she wasn’t meeting Chauncey,” Justine said, referring to Mamie’s almost-fiancé. “Because he’s with his family in Boston.”
“How do you know that?” Mamie asked with a frown. “He didn’t tell me he was leaving town.”
Florence rolled her eyes heavenward. “The only way you two could care less about one another is if you were perfect strangers. Lord, Mamie. Why are you marrying that man?”
“I don’t wish to talk about Chauncey . . . or any other man,” she added, her tone harsher than usual.
This merely piqued Florence’s interest further. She had a good idea who the other man was in this case. The air fairly sparked whenever Mamie and Frank Tripp were in the same room together. Yet, Florence knew that pushing her sister would not help the situation. Stubborn as a mule, Mamie had to make up her own mind on matters. Florence sent Justine a look, a slight shake of her head to indicate they should switch topics.
“So the Bronze House,” Justine prompted with a nod in Florence’s direction. “Tell us everything.”
“I finally met Mr. Madden.”
Both sisters stared at her in astonishment. “You did?” Mamie’s voice was a whisper even though they were alone.
“I did. He summoned me to his office and demanded to know why I kept returning to his casino.”
“What did you tell him?” her older sister asked.
“Forget that for a moment,” Justine said. “What did he look like?” Justine was the romantic one, always seeing the good in people. She thought anyone could be redeemed, if only shown enough love.
“Sturdy, with shoulders like—” Florence held her hands out wide to indicate the breadth of Clay’s shoulders. “And handsome, in a rough sort of way.” She didn’t tell her sisters of his two admissions, that he was attracted to her and had designs to ruin their father. He’d soon get over the first and she’d dissuade him of the second.
“Did he hurt you?” Mamie lowered her brows, her shoulders hunching. “Because I will—”
“Settle down, big sister. He didn’t hurt me. And, he’s agreed to tutor me.”
“Tutor you?” Justine glanced between Mamie and Florence. “Do not tell me this is about that casino for ladies again.”
Florence had confided in her sisters about her idea months ago, and Justine had predictably disagreed about the need for a ladies-only casino. Mamie liked the notion, only commenting that it was impractical. Florence didn’t care. She’d show everyone that a woman could succeed in business as well as a man. “Yes, this is about the casino for ladies. And you’re wasting your breath if you think to talk me out of it.”
Justine’s lips tightened but she said nothing more. The carriage swung around the corner to start along Seventy-Ninth Street and Florence tried to shake off her morose mood.