Clay tapped his foot on the floor, unable to stay still. With his notoriously soft heart, Jack would be furious over how Clay had treated Florence, even if there was a very good reason for Clay’s actions. He’d dodged Jack for two full days to avoid this very conversation.

It hadn’t done any good. Clay was on the edge of losing his mind. Perhaps admitting the truth might ease the boulder of guilt lodged between his shoulder blades and allow him to get some sleep.

Trust you? Indeed, I’d rather not. I tried it once and didn’t care for the results.

He downed more bourbon. “She snuck into my apartments the other night.”

“Yes, I am aware. I’m the one who told Red to open the door for her.”

Ah, that explained how she’d gained access to his private quarters. Red was Jack’s favorite errand boy at the casino. “Why in the hell did you do that?”

“Because she asked me.”

“You know I don’t want anyone in there. Ever.”

“Did you kick her out?”

“No.”

“I see.”

“Obviously you don’t. I slept with her.”

Jack’s brows knitted, as if he couldn’t understand why Clay was being obtuse. “Yes, that’s what I assumed. Though I had thought it would improve your mood.”

“Does it seem like it’s improved my mood?”

“No. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

Three nights . . . but who was counting? “I told her not to come back.”

“Why? I know you hold affection for her. It’s obvious whenever she’s around.”

Clay clenched his jaw. Affection. That was a tame word for what he felt for Florence. More like crippling need. Or obsession. Absolutely gobsmacked. He’d stared into her greenish-brown eyes as he slid inside her and something had unlocked in his chest. Emotions he’d thought long burned and buried had come rushing forth, and all he’d been able to think was, Mine.

He had to have her again. And again.

He’d never get enough of her.

There was just one problem. She was not the woman for a man like him. Criminals, even wildly successful ones, did not end up with high-society ladies. Though she was rebellious at heart, Florence couldn’t change the circumstances of her birth, no more than Clay could change his own. Duncan Greene would slice Clay’s throat with a dull, rusty blade before allowing Clay to have Florence.

Years ago, Clay swore never to allow anyone to take his choices away from him. He would remain in control, no one else.