Glancing down, she read the first paragraph. Then she read it again. Dear God.

No, no, no. This was unbelievable.

How could he do this?

She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Everything from disbelief to confusion to anger coursed through her, weakening her knees. A strong hand slipped under her elbow to support her. “Steady,” Jack said.

Florence blinked up at Jack and forced out the words. “I have to see him. Right now.”

“I thought you might say that.” Jack reached behind him and opened the carriage door. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Curious eyes watched as Florence and Jack entered the Bronze House. She ignored them and climbed the stairs toward the third floor. Her heart pounded fiercely, taking up all the room in her chest, as she went. She wanted to throttle Clay. No, shout at him and then throttle him.

Not bothering to knock on the door to his apartments, she tried the knob. The door swung open. Disarray greeted her, with crates and trunks, canvas cloths and books every which way she turned. He was . . . packing. What on earth?

She flicked her wrist and let the door slam closed behind her. A second later Clay appeared at the door of his bedchamber. He looked terrible. Wrecked, as if he hadn’t slept a wink in days. No, a month. Hair disheveled, he had several days’ worth of growth on his jaw and dark circles under his eyes, the kind that came from total exhaustion and despair.

While she hated to see him like this, she was too angry to care. “I don’t want it.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Of course you do. Anyone in their right mind would want it.”

“Anyone except me, apparently. You cannot give me the Bronze House.”

“I can and have. I am no longer the principal owner of the property in which you are standing. That would be you.”

“This is ridiculous. I do not want your casino.”

“I once swore on the deed to the Bronze House I wouldn’t hurt you. I broke that promise—and I never welch on a bet.”

That night at the New Belfast Athletic Club felt like a lifetime ago. “I hadn’t remembered that conversation, but even if I had I would have refused. This club is yours, top to bottom, inside and out. It’s a success because of you.”

“Then you’ll have an easy time stepping into my shoes to run it.”

“Absolutely not.” She lifted her arms then dropped them, frustrated. “I have my own shoes and I prefer to use them how I see fit.”

His brows lowered as he frowned. “Wait, why are we talking about shoes?”

“I mean that I don’t want to step into someone else’s shoes. I will run my own casino, the way I want. Build it from the ground up, as you did. But for me and my clientele.”

“Women.”