It wasn’t exactly an eye for an eye. Duncan had considerably more money than the Maddens had at the time they lost their home. The Greenes wouldn’t be forced to live in a crowded tenement with rats, bedbugs and disease. Not to mention this wasn’t even a house in which Duncan currently resided.

But taking his family home was the vow a young Clay had made all those years ago . . . and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to see it through.

Even if it meant dealing a blow to Florence’s future.

Granny’s house is critical to my future plans.

Regrettable, but he’d find a way to make it up to her.

He threw open his office door and stepped inside. Duncan had made himself right at home in a chair across from the desk, his large bulk settled as if he belonged there. The other man looked over his shoulder, saw Clay, and remained seated.

Very well, then. No pleasantries.

Clay smothered a smile as he closed the door and strolled toward his desk. Duncan was annoyed, which brought Clay an unbelievable amount of joy. “Mr. Greene.” He lowered himself into his office chair and took a sip of his coffee. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Duncan’s eyes were hard, his expression closed off. He was a big man with a barrel chest, well dressed. He’d spent his boyhood boxing, shooting, playing baseball and riding—basically any physical activity in which rich young men dabbled. He was the picture of wealthy entitlement in a city that rewarded such circumstances.

“You know why I am here.”

Clay lifted the cup to his mouth. “Do I?”

“Tell me, Madden. Why Seventy-Ninth Street? You could build anywhere in the city. There are plenty of empty lots, not to mention swampland to be excavated. Yet, you chose this particular block in this particular neighborhood. Why?”

“Perhaps seventy-nine is my favorite number.”

Duncan’s face didn’t change. “Try again.”

Clay finished his coffee and carefully set the cup on his desk. “I cannot see how I owe you an explanation regarding my plans.”

“You are attempting to build a club-slash-casino around my mother’s home, so I would like to know why. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t learn who was behind the plans?”

“I never really cared,” Clay lied and folded his hands in his lap. “I seem to recall there was one homeowner who wouldn’t sell. Was that your mother?”

“You know damn well that it was.”

“Why are you here, Greene?”

“Tell me what it will take for you to abandon this plan of yours.”

“You don’t have enough money to stop me.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“I do relish watching you fail, however. So please, by all means. Try to prevent me.”