She underestimated him. Underestimated his reasons for wishing to attend. There was a deal to be made at that particular event, one he couldn’t possibly undertake elsewhere. A deal that would transform him into one of the richest men in the entire country.
More money, more power . . . Wasn’t that the American way?
The idea had come to him a few days ago, when he’d learned of the fundraiser. His interests and her social standing were colliding, and he meant to use the opportunity to the fullest.
And so, he decided to call her bluff.
“Fine. Fifty thousand to your legal aid society.”
She dropped her fan. It clattered to the floor of the brougham but neither of them bothered to retrieve it. “Are you serious?”
“As a pastor on Sunday morning.”
“What if I refuse?”
He’d expected nothing less than a fight from her. She was no idiot. His presence would prove scandalous in her world. She’d likely never be received anywhere decent ever again. The Greenes were powerful, but not so powerful as to bring a criminal into decent society. Hell, those uptown folks snubbed someone for wearing the same dress twice. Jack’s offenses ran a bit deeper than clothing.
Agreeing would, in short, ruin her standing.
That wasn’t his problem. She owed him a debt and he meant to collect.
It was time to turn the screws. “If you refuse, the legal aid society gets nothing. Would you really deprive them of much-needed funding just to save yourself from embarrassment?”
He could almost hear her gnashing her teeth. “It’s hardly embarrassment. What you are asking me to do is rock the very foundation on which society is built.”
“And that bothers you?”
She sighed, her fingers tapping on her knee. “Not necessarily. Society is not for me. I’ve known that for years. However, tradition means quite a bit to my parents.”
Jack didn’t bother pointing out that her eldest sister had married a lawyer who’d assumed a false name, and her other sister, now a casino owner, was playing house with a former casino owner. Tradition was on shaky ground in the Greene household in Jack’s opinion.
“Perhaps I’ll go unrecognized.” A slim possibility, but he thought it was worth mentioning.
“You’re new. That alone would have people talking.”
He stayed quiet. The wheels continued to roll, the familiar buildings and businesses passing outside the window. These were his streets. He knew the locations of the secret opium dens, cockfights and boxing matches. The sex clubs that offered privacy and safety. The policy shops, poolrooms and card games.
And while he loved every bit of it, nothing lasted forever. A king only remained a king if he learned how to adapt.
To do that, he needed Justine.
“Tell me why.”
“Why?”
“Do not play dense. You’re far too keen for that. Tell me why you need to attend this particular fundraiser.”
She was considering it, and Jack could taste victory. He decided to give her a hint of his goal. “I am a man who deals in favors—”
“I am aware, Mulligan. Skip ahead to the fundraiser.”
Arousal slid through him, an unexpected tightening in his groin at her sharp words. He didn’t want to find her sour disposition attractive and yet he liked it. A lot. Most people he encountered were respectful. Courteous. They understood this was Jack’s game and therefore Jack’s rules. And not playing by Jack’s rules meant consequences.
Nearly everyone avoided those consequences.
Everyone except this woman, it seemed.
And fuck, if that didn’t make him hard.
She snapped her gloved fingers in front of his face. “Jack, pay attention. Where did you go?”
“As I said, I deal in favors. Nearly every man, at some point, comes into contact with one of my businesses. I can find ways to reach them and get what I want. A few men, however, remain beyond my reach for one reason or another. Unfortunately, one of these men is necessary for a business proposition I’d like to undertake.”
“Let me get this straight.” She cocked her head and studied him. “There is a man you need to speak to and this fundraiser is the only place you can do it.”
“Precisely.”
“You cannot go to this man’s home and see him there?”
Jack fingered the brim of his derby. “He won’t receive me.”
“Ah.” She stared out the window, grabbing for the strap as they turned a corner. “And you’re hoping to ambush him at the fundraiser. How do you know he’ll be in attendance?”
“Ambush is a strong word—and I know he’ll be there.”
“Then it must be someone important, someone involved with the legal aid