“I knew it had to be a lie. You’d never bend your intractable rules for a pretty face.”

“I let her gamble here three nights this week.” He enjoyed the way her mouth slackened, her jaw hanging open. “You’re a bit behind, Anna. Surprising, as your customers love gossiping almost as much as they love getting their cocks sucked.”

She smirked. “Almost. My girls are the best in the city, after all. Tell me about this woman. Who is she?”

He took a few puffs on his now-lit cigar. “Florence Greene.”

“Florence . . .” Her eyes widened almost comically. “Surely you don’t mean that Florence Greene. Duncan Greene’s daughter?”

“I do. She’s the middle one. The troublemaker.”

Anna’s feet hit the floor as she straightened. “Why on earth would you let her in?”

Clay exhaled smoke and tried to come up with an answer. Only, there was none. “Curiosity, I suppose.”

Anna closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes, studying him. After a long minute, she nodded. “Oh, I see. This explains why everyone’s been extra terrified of you this week.”

He had no idea what she was implying. “That’s ridiculous. This week has been no different than any other—except that I’ve dealt with two cheaters in one evening.” They were getting bolder. His reputation must’ve slipped.

“No, I think it is Miss Greene. You like her.”

“Bite your tongue,” he snapped, though it came out halfhearted and they both knew it.

“Clayton Madden, gone soft for a fancy uptown debutante.” She grinned and shook her head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

He ground his back molars together. If this rumor gained legs, he’d never hear the end of it. “I have work to do and no doubt you have clients next door. As much as I’ve enjoyed this visit, I think it’s time to cut it short.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Anna!” He came to his feet. “Get the hell out of here.”

Chuckling, she rose. “Here is your chair, Your Majesty.” She waved a hand and edged away. He stalked over and sat, the well-worn leather creaking under his weight.

Instead of leaving, she went to the sideboard. He ignored her and concentrated on the stack of papers on his desk. These were financial reports from various operations all over the city. He owed quarterly payments to his investors, including Anna. The net profits would determine how much to pay out, if he could ever find the time to balance the books. His attention had been sorely distracted as of late.

Maybe you have gone soft.

No, never. The idea was laughable. He remained focused on what truly mattered: money and revenge.

A tumbler half-filled with spirits was placed on his desk. “Drink this,” she said. “It’s your favorite and it’ll sweeten your mood.”