“It sounds silly, but I’ve loved that house since I was a child. I spent more time there than my sisters and it became a refuge for me.” A place far away from her father’s disappointment and her mother’s expectations. “I don’t know what I would have done without Granny and that big, rambling house.”

He said nothing for a moment, then took her shoulders and settled her back against his chest. His arms wound around her, holding her tight. “Won’t you marry and find a home with your husband?”

“God, no. I’d rather have my own business than a husband. And if I’m living in my grandmother’s house, I can use my trust fund for the casino’s operating expenses.”

“I had no idea.”

“No one does. But Granny’s house is critical to my future plans. If she sells it then I will probably end up living atop my casino and becoming a surly recluse.”

He grunted at the dig, his burst of air bouncing her on his chest. They sat in easy silence for a few seconds. Water lapped against the side of the tub, the steam curling toward the ceiling. She figured now was as good a time as any to ask the one question standing between them.

“Will you ever tell me the reason why you hate my father?”

“No.”

Well, that response left no opening whatsoever. “He’s not a bad man. A little intimidating at times but he isn’t cruel.”

“You’ll never change my mind about him.”

“Even if I regale you with stories about his support and love as a father? The various charities to which he donates? The time he saved a kitten and brought it home for my sisters and me?”

“None of that will affect the way I feel about Duncan Greene.”

“How long have you known him?”

“I don’t.”

“Clay,” she said, her voice rising in frustration. “You are deliberately—”

In one smooth motion, he lifted and twisted her until her thighs straddled his hips. He bent his head and took the tip of her breast into his mouth, and fire swept through her veins. Each suck and swirl on the taut skin caused her core to contract in the most delicious manner. “You’re attempting to distract me,” she murmured.

“Yes, I am. Is it working?”

His fingers dipped beneath the surface of the water to tease between her legs . . . and she forgot all her questions. For now.

Daylight brought a different mood to the Bronze House. It was less elegant, more practical. Maids and servants bustled throughout, washing off the previous night’s debauchery and battening down the hatches for the upcoming revelry. Suppliers and workers were in and out to make deliveries and conduct repairs. Clay spared no expense and paid his people well. Nothing less than the best would do for this shining jewel of vice and sin.