the kind of man to keep people under your thumb, turning the screws.”
The side of his mouth hitched. “I am fond of screwing.”
She huffed out a breath and cocked her head. “Was that innuendo?”
“If you cannot tell then I’ve clearly lost my touch.”
“I thought I wasn’t your type?”
He lifted a shoulder and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “The more you argue with me, the more ‘my type’ you become.”
He nearly laughed at the way her lips pressed together, as if she was holding back her arguments by sheer force of will. Silent, she folded her arms and stared at the wall. He could almost see her brain turning it over, trying to arrive at a solution that wouldn’t require interacting with him again.
For some reason, he couldn’t let that happen.
The moment dragged on. It was warm in his office and he longed for a cool drink at the bar. Still, he wouldn’t rush her. He’d learned to negotiate on the streets of Five Points, where winning meant survival. Those skills had been honed against criminals, policemen, politicians . . . One little Knickerbocker wouldn’t rattle him. He’d wait her out all week, if necessary.
“What happens if I refuse the repayment request?”
“You won’t.”
“I certainly will if it is illegal or makes me uncomfortable in any way.”
“Lest you think this is a negotiation, allow me to dissuade you. You have no leverage in this situation. Walking out means Mr. Gorcey disappears for good. Are you so cavalier with Mrs. Gorcey’s fate?”
Color tinged her cheeks, the gold in her eyes sparking once more as she faced him. So far, he’d embarrassed and angered her. Yet she was still here, staring him down. The girl had spine. “That sounds like a challenge,” she threw out. “How about this for leverage? I’ll merely pay Mrs. Gorcey myself.”
He blinked. Just once, which wouldn’t have been memorable coming from any other person on earth. But for Jack Mulligan, who never flinched or backed down or reacted in any manner that he hadn’t carefully planned, he might as well have fainted in a fit of the vapors.
Goddamn it. Would she really do that?
“Yes, I really would,” she said, somehow able to read his mind.
“With what money? Your father certainly won’t approve.”
“I don’t need his money. I have money of my own.”
Shit. Of course. He’d been an idiot to assume her dependent on her father. Girls like her were rolling in money, dripping in dresses and jewels as soon as they left the cradle.
He accepted defeat. He couldn’t counter that—
Oh, wait. Yes, he could.
“And what would your father think about your activities here downtown?”
She visibly bristled, her shoulders tight, brows lowered in anger. “Good God. You are a worm, Mulligan. No, you are lower than a worm. You are the scum floating atop a Mulberry Street puddle.”
He chuckled. “I will give you credit for creativity, Miss Greene. I don’t think I’ve ever been called puddle scum before.”
“I wish I could revel in the achievement. Unfortunately, I’m too busy cursing you inside my head.”
“And what curses would those be? I’m curious how an uptown princess curses out a man like me.”
She drew closer, unafraid, her hands clenched into tight fists. “I won’t dignify that taunt with a response. Only know they are very creative, entirely lewd and ridiculously offensive.”
Whether it was her bold attitude or the word lewd, lust began to thicken in his blood, warming him everywhere. Christ, she was brave. Grown men wouldn’t face him down like this, insulting him. No woman had certainly ever tried before. He liked it, though, at least from Justine. She was like Joan of Arc or Boudica squaring off in battle, and he contemplated all that passion and determination locked inside her. The man who found a way to enjoy it, whether in or out of the bedroom, would reap a hell of a reward.
As he let his mind ruminate on some of the more interesting reward possibilities, she started for the door. “Fine, Mulligan. You have your promise.”
He couldn’t help but grin as he watched her move across the floor. “I thought you might say that.”
“Enjoy it, then, because that’s the last one you’ll ever get out of me. I know better than to bargain with the devil twice.” She stepped into the corridor, slamming the door shut behind her.
“What is troubling you, my dear?” Granny asked Justine quietly at dinner. Everyone else was talking around them, leaving a rare moment for private conversation. “You seem distracted tonight.”