The Prince of Broadway

by Joanna Shupe

  “I am, which means this is my casino. And you are trespassing.” He lowered himself into his large leather chair without waiting for her to be seated.

  “No one has asked me to leave.”

  “You are aware that women are forbidden from crossing our threshold. Yet, you’ve flouted that rule. Many times. Care to tell me why?”

  “I assumed your policies had changed.” A lie. Her first visit she’d entered through the kitchens, sneaking into the main casino. On subsequent visits, she’d flashed a smile and pressed a large bill into the hand of the man at the door. The staff recognized her now, though she knew Madden’s benevolence was the reason for her continued admittance.

  “Let’s do away with the pretense. My curiosity is the only reason you’ve gained access to the Bronze House. I’m requesting you satisfy that curiosity now.”

  Though he spoke politely, it somehow sounded like a threat. “Or?”

  “Most people are smart enough not to refuse my requests.”

  “You won’t hurt me.” It came out with more confidence than she felt. Inside, doubt twisted her stomach into knots.

  One dark brow shot up. “Won’t I?”

  “I don’t intimidate easily, Mr. Madden.”

  A flash of something passed over his face, a glimpse of appreciation, perhaps. Had her answer pleased him?

  “I’m beginning to see that. After all, someone nearly drugged your sister here and yet you return.”

  Florence waved her hand. Mamie hadn’t been fooled. The man’s clumsy attempt at pouring an unknown liquid into her champagne had been as obvious as the heat in Hades. Besides, Florence felt eyes on her every time she visited the Bronze House—a protective presence that wouldn’t dare allow anything terrible to befall her within these walls.

  Had it been Madden looking out for her? Watching her?

  She wasn’t certain if the idea excited or frightened her.

  “I’m perfectly safe inside your casino.”

  He didn’t bother to confirm or deny it. Instead, he said, “You show a remarkable skill at the tables. How did an uptown debutante learn such things?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Practice.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. The sound was rough and genuine, the mirth transforming his face into something . . . lighter. Younger. She hadn’t realized. He couldn’t be more than thirty or thirty-one years old. Tingles coursed through her, as if she’d been dealt an ace and a king while playing twenty-one.

  Goodness. Was she attracted to him?

  She recognized the feeling. There had been various young men in her life over the years. Florence liked kissing and touching and all the things that went with it. She hadn’t ever considered saving herself for marriage, not when a whole wide world awaited her. She was a modern woman in charge of her own destiny—and her future did not include being under the thumb of a husband. She wanted an equal, not a jailer.

  But an attraction to Clayton Madden would complicate things.

  Madden collected himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I can see you’re no novice. You’ve walked out a winner each time you’ve visited. Yet, your presence here is disruptive. My patrons are unaccustomed to seeing a woman in their midst. You are . . . distracting.”

  It would seem a compliment if not for his frown. “That is not my fault. Admit more women and they won’t notice me.”

  “Impossible. No man would miss you, even in a crowd.”

  Her throat dried out. That was most definitely a compliment. However, she didn’t think he was flirting with her, merely being honest. Clayton Madden didn’t seem like a man who flirted. “Your policy is antiquated. You should allow women to gamble.”

  “Not a chance. If men are watching the women then they aren’t losing money to me.”

  She bit back a smile. His attitude served her plans perfectly. Let him ignore half the population of New York, the women who were bored and looking for entertainment. Florence would soon take their pin money in her female-only casino. Still, she couldn’t resist adding, “So women must suffer for the stupidity of men. Again.”

  He blinked, his expression full of both confusion and admiration. “I see you are a woman who speaks her mind. That’s a quality I appreciate. So let’s answer this once and for all. Why do you continue to visit the Bronze House? What are you after?”

  It’s now or never, Florence. “I’m here for lessons. I wish for you to teach me how to operate a casino.”

  Chapter Two

  Clay paused, certain his ears had failed him. “I beg your pardon?”

  She strolled closer, her silk skirts rustling with every step, a whisper of femininity that slid over his skin. Florence Greene was even more stunning up close. She looked like a blonde angel, only with teasing eyes and a wicked mouth. Long, elegant limbs combined with a proud bearing born of privilege and wealth. He desperately wished to dislike her . . . but quite the opposite. She was provoking and intelligent—a dangerous combination.

  Especially when Clay planned revenge on her father.

  Duncan Greene had sealed his fate twenty years ago when he’d razed an entire block of homes on the east side to build a factory. One of those homes had belonged to the Maddens. They hadn’t received fair market value for the property—Greene was a greedy bastard—and therefore hadn’t been able to locate equitable lodgings. Their family had ended up in a slum, where Clay’s younger brother died of cholera and his father walked out.

  A family destroyed. Lives changed for the worse. Clay would soon repay that favor and move on with the next phase of his life. But not if Florence kept distracting the House’s patrons. He had to find a way to get rid of her for good.

  She lowered herself into the armchair across from his desk and met his gaze. “I plan to open my own casino. I would like to learn from you on how to do it.”

  A rough sound escaped his throat, a weak chuckle of sorts. Christ, that was twice she’d caused him to laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time before tonight. She really was remarkable. “Miss Greene, women of your . . . status don’t go into business for themselves. They get married. Have children. Summer in Newport and the like. I think you should return home and—”

  “Please do not use that condescending tone with me. Believe me, I’m aware of my status and what girls my age are supposed to do. But I have absolutely no interest in marriage and children and Newport. I wish to open a casino for ladies.”

  Now he knew she was cracked. “Gambling is illegal.”

  She gave him a bland look. “Anything is legal for the right price.”

  So true. He tried another tack. “Ladies don’t gamble. Lower-class women might occasionally dabble at cards or lottery, but ladies do not.”

  “You’re wrong. Ladies most definitely gamble.”

  Her stubbornness was beginning to grate on his nerves. “No, they don’t,” he snapped.

  “Really? How many ladies do you know?”

  Admittedly, not many. None, actually. “Even if you’re right, this is not a school. I have neither the time nor the inclination to mentor someone.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my time is valuable and I’m not running a charity.”

  “So I’ll pay you. Whatever hourly rate you set.”

  Frustrated, he drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. Was she so eager to enter the lion’s den? This was no place for her. Gambling made men desperate, stupid. Just last evening a man who’d lost everything tried to strangle a croupier. It was dangerous here, and his staff needed to pay attention to their jobs, not watch over this woman.

  “It would be a waste of your money. You’ll never get past the police and politicians to even open your doors.”

  “Precisely why I need guidance from you. The type of casino I wish to open is exactly like the Bronze House.”

  He wanted to roll his eyes at her naivete. It had taken him fifteen years to achieve something as grand as the Bronze House. He’d scraped and hustled for half hi
s life in alleys and taprooms to sit here. His scars were a daily reminder of his struggles. And she thought to snap her fingers and get whatever she wished?

  Unbelievable, this woman.

  He ought to throw her out. Refuse her request and bar her from ever returning.

  And yet . . .

  The idea of helping Duncan Greene’s daughter descend into the city’s underworld was appealing. Her father would hate it. The family would be humiliated, their social credibility ruined. Perhaps that might sour some of Greene’s business deals, cause him to lose money. That Clay would help to orchestrate the Greene downfall made the proposition all the sweeter.

  It wouldn’t satisfy Clay’s need for revenge, but it was a good start.

  “I would require only two to three hours of your time once or twice a week,” she said, her voice impatient. “I hardly see how that is an inconvenience for you.”

  He didn’t answer right away. Negotiating was much like gambling. One had to possess patience. Otherwise, you never got what you wanted.

  And what he wanted right now was to see how far she’d go. To discover just how badly she wanted this casino of hers. What was she willing to trade for it? Because he’d decided he liked her enough to keep her around. If she planned to ruin herself, then he would be more than happy to assist her in the endeavor.

  “Name your price, Mr. Madden.”

  He threw out an obscenely high amount. “One hundred dollars an hour.”

  “Done. When may we start? Tonight?”

  “You didn’t even attempt a negotiation. Perhaps I’m wasting my time in trying to teach you anything.”

  Her lips twisted into a wide smile, her eyes sparkling from across the desk. The effect was an arrow through his chest to steal his breath. Goddamn, she was beautiful. He stared at her so often from a distance that he hadn’t prepared himself for witnessing her joy up close. He was destroyed. Slain. Unable to speak as his brain struggled to take it in.

  “You won’t regret this, Mr. Madden. I swear.”

  He wouldn’t regret it, but he would bet anything she would. Other people’s regrets weren’t his problem, however. Someone wished to bet their fortune on the turn of a card? Go ahead. Someone offered up their home as collateral only to then lose it? Hand over the deed. In the end, he was a selfish man who looked after his own interests. So the consequences of Florence Greene’s actions were hers alone to bear.

  Though there was something else he should mention. “You should know a few things before we finalize any apprenticeship.”

  She leaned in, all eagerness and devotion, hanging on his every word. A sudden fantasy crossed his mind, one where he tutored her in more than card games and ledgers. Dark, passionate games with punishments and rewards. Where he would bend her over his desk when she was bad and pleasure her within an inch of her—

  Fuck. He dropped his gaze and dragged air into his lungs. “I’ll put my cards on the table. I’m attracted to you.”

  Her brows shot high on her forehead, her face slackening. “W-what?”

  “I find you attractive, Miss Greene. Surely a woman as beautiful as you understands what that means.”

  “I understand what it means but why would you tell me?”

  Simple. Because he had nothing to hide.

  Because he hated liars and cheaters.

  Because she was dangerous to his peace of mind.

  God knew it would be better for both of them if she reconsidered and tutored elsewhere. “Complete honesty,” he said. “Understand that my motives are never pure. I’m as selfish as they come, and if there’s an opportunity to get you in my bed I won’t hesitate to take it.”

  “I . . . cannot believe you are telling me this. Are you planning to force me to—?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said with deep conviction. “I would never hurt you or force you to do anything against your will. However, I often have goals that don’t line up with society’s standards of propriety. If you expect me to play the gentleman here, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

  She studied him, her hazel gaze contemplative. “I’m more than competent with a pistol. If you hurt me, I will come here and put a bullet in your chest.”

  “Fair enough, but I won’t hurt you. Neither will anyone else in this city while you are under my protection.”

  “Was there anything else?”

  “Yes, actually. I plan to bring about your father’s ruin.”

  “My father’s ruin? Duncan Greene?” Her mouth worked, then she said, “You must be joking.”

  He folded his hands behind his head and watched her absorb this news. “I’m quite serious. I won’t bore you with the details but you should know I’m agreeing to this scheme of yours because your father would absolutely hate it. Anything that causes him the least bit of aggravation entices me.”

  “You don’t like him.”

  An understatement. Duncan had taken everything from Clay’s family. And soon, Clay would take something that mattered to Duncan. “No, I don’t.”

  “I cannot decide if you are trying to scare me off or if you are telling the truth.”

  “If the truth scares you then you have no business opening a casino. The world is full of hard decisions and uncomfortable choices. You cannot be softhearted. What will you do when a friend with an outstanding debt comes crying to you that she cannot pay? Pat her on the head and tell her not to worry, that you trust she’ll give you the money eventually?”

  “I am not completely sheltered, Mr. Madden. I know running a business won’t be easy.”

  “Gambling is more than a business, Miss Greene. It is a way of life. A burning obsession for some. If you want safe, then procure a position at a department store.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Let me understand this. Agreeing to help me has nothing to do with the money I’m paying you, but rather revenge against my father.”

  “Wrong. Everything I do is about money. The revenge is a nice side bonus.”

  “As selfish as they come,” she muttered, repeating his words from earlier.

  “That’s right—and you’d be wise not to forget it.”

  Wait, Madden was trying to ruin her father. What did that mean? Bankrupt him? She didn’t think that was possible. Her father was careful with money and they were more than comfortable. Not to mention her father’s intelligence. No one pulled anything over on Duncan Greene. Except for her, of course. “Exactly how are you trying to ruin my family?”

  Madden cocked his head and seemed to contemplate the question. Florence stared at him through her lashes. The casino owner was unexpected in so many ways. Yes, he was intimidating, but he didn’t treat her like a silly girl with the intellect of a housefly, as most of the men her age did. Instead, he listened and bantered back and forth with her. It was refreshing.

  In truth, she’d been ready to pay more for his help. The Bronze House was the exact model for the casino she wished to open for ladies. Nowhere else came close, not in New York City. Furthermore, Madden was a reported genius, a shrewd businessman and excellent with numbers. Choosing someone else felt like settling.

  And she needed to learn fast. She had less than two years to open her casino and build an independent future. Her father had recently begun pressuring Florence’s twenty-three-year-old sister, Mamie, to marry. At twenty-one, Florence was next in line for marriage. Duncan Greene’s patience for unmarried daughters would only last for so long, and Florence had no intention of handing over her life to some strange man. She intended to support herself instead.

  Her plan had started six months ago. For years she’d gambled with her grandmother and her friends, who wagered jewelry and other baubles over weekly euchre games. The competition could get quite fierce and Florence realized that proper ladies love to gamble just as much as proper men. Unfortunately, there was no place women could safely do so.

  She began wondering, why not? Why couldn’t ladies have a casino just for themselves, where no men were allowed? Hire female dealers and
servers, provide employment to those who needed it. Things were changing rapidly for women in the city. Jobs, apartments, bicycles, independence . . . The old ways were dying off, changing. And she liked the idea of going into business for herself.

  Where she could be her own person, live by her own rules and never be made to feel like she wasn’t good enough again.

  So she’d started visiting the seedier parts of downtown to learn the games, a tiny pistol tucked in her bag for safety. Roulette in the West Village. Craps and fan-tan in Chinatown. Twenty-one near Wall Street. Without fail, she turned over her winnings to her sisters, who used the money to help the needy in the tenements.

  Now she was here, in the poshest, most exclusive casino in the state. Though gambling was illegal, the Bronze House was never raided because Madden had the police force and a few politicians in his pocket. How did one do that? Florence had no idea, which was why she needed Madden’s assistance to learn the business.

  But he was planning to ruin her father? How could she work with a man under those conditions?

  He finally answered, “I’d rather not share my plans. They have nothing to do with you directly.”

  “They do if they affect my family.”

  “You might tell your father. I can’t risk it. Besides, he’ll learn of it soon enough.”

  She blew out a frustrated breath. Was she actually considering this? Yes, because there were no other options, not in such a short amount of time. And shouldn’t she stick close to him in hopes of discovering how he planned to ruin her family? Then she could warn her father.

  “I feel as if I’m making a deal with the devil,” she muttered.

  “Indeed, you are.” His dark eyes glittered in the gloomy gaslight. “I never claimed to be a nice man.”

  Her skin prickled with awareness. God help her, but that appealed to her even more. “You won’t scare me away.”

  “Oh, but give me time, Miss Greene.” His voice was low and husky, a tone one would use with a lover. The man was clearly trying to run her off.

  Which showed he had a lot to learn about today’s modern women. She was tougher than she looked and not about to quiver in fear before him. “You might as well call me Florence.”