She glanced over her shoulder at Jack. “Is he . . . ?”

“He’ll be along shortly, miss. Just wait here.” Jack gave her a brief nod and departed, leaving her alone in Clayton Madden’s office.

His office.

So this was where he oversaw his gambling syndicate. She would have thought it more . . . decadent. After all, he was one of the richest and most powerful men in the city. Yet, this was a simple space, not one designed to show off his considerable wealth. What a fascinating contradiction.

Papers were neatly stacked on his desk. She longed to flip through them, discover what matters awaited his attention. Credit he’d extended to patrons come due? Bills from his champagne and caviar suppliers? Reports on dealers and club operation?

Her mind whirled with possibilities, her heart full of giddy envy. Someday. Someday you’ll have an office just like this.

The door behind her opened and she spun toward it. A large man stood in the doorway, his wide shoulders taking up nearly the width of the entry. He was dressed entirely in black with no hint of color anywhere on him. Not a collar stud or silver button in sight. Dark hair framed his face, the strands a bit longer than the current style, and two scars marred his skin: one through his eyebrow and the other along his chin.

He was not conventionally pretty, like the society swells who slept all day and caroused at night. No, this man was handsome, but in a rough-and-tumble, unforgiving way. He oozed confidence, as if he never failed, never let anyone tell him what to do. A warrior, scarred from years of battle, someone who’d built a kingdom with his two bare hands.

She wished that didn’t appeal to her, that she didn’t feel a strange pull in the pit of her stomach . . . but she did. It wasn’t every day she encountered a man so dangerous and shrewd, interesting and complex.

She met his gaze and it was clear he was not-so-patiently waiting for her to finish her assessment of him. Had she been staring too long? Clasping her hands, she wiped any hint of expression off her face. Don’t react. Give him nothing. After all, she’d perfected a blank look over the years, thanks to hiding her misadventures from her parents. It worked every time.

Madden’s lips quirked as if he instantly saw through her ruse. Impossible. She’d perfected that blank stare at each ball, dinner party and social gathering since the age of eighteen. No one had ever suspected otherwise.

“Miss Greene.” He stepped forward and closed the door behind him. Trepidation slid along her spine, a cold chill of warning. She was alone with him, a man reportedly no stranger to violence.

He wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt Duncan Greene’s daughter. Would he?