Luck of the Devil

by March, Meghan

  He tried to tell you, the whisper in my head chimes in. You didn’t want to hear it. I tell that voice to shut the hell up and glare at the man in front of me, hoping my blue eyes freeze him in place.

  “Protect me from what?”

  “Whatever you think of me, I wasn’t about to find you for your father and turn you over to him without any concern for your safety. I might be a fucking asshole, but even I wouldn’t take that chance with someone’s life.”

  Blood thunders through my head like a freight train. “You thought he might want to do me harm after looking for me all these years? And you still told him you found me?”

  A muscle ticks in Forge’s jaw. I hit a nerve with that question.

  “I didn’t know what his plan was, but I wasn’t going to sacrifice you to feed my own ambition. It was my contingency plan. As long as you’re tied to me, you’re safe.”

  A choked laugh gets caught in my throat. “Are you serious? Clearly, I’m not fucking safe, because someone messed with your goddamned helicopter and I could’ve died!”

  I shove out of the chair and pace the room. There’s too much information swirling in my head now that I never wanted to know.

  I buried my head in the sand the last time he tried to tell me about my father, and I shouldn’t have. Or maybe I wish I could go back to when I was lying in bed and knew none of this. Either way, I prefer ignorance to the cold, hard truth.

  What if my father is a terrible person? What if he’s done horrible things? Is that why Forge felt the need to take extra precautions?

  Forge’s chair scrapes across the tile floor. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. If you believe nothing else I say, believe that.”

  I spin to face him. “I don’t know what the fuck to believe anymore. All I know is that the sooner you finish this fucking business deal, the sooner I can have my divorce and get back to living my life.”

  “It’s not that simple. Now you know who you are. Other people know who you are. Your life will never be the same as it was before.” He stands like a tyrant behind his desk, and I don’t like being dictated to.

  I jam my hands in my messy hair and grip my head as I pace in the other direction. “And whose fault is that? What did I do to deserve this? I can’t control a goddamned bit of it, so why should I have to roll over and accept being a pawn in your fucking game?”

  When I spin around again, I drop my hands and use them to punctuate every single last word I have to say.

  “No. Fuck that. I’m going to pack my shit and go to Prague and win a boatload of fucking money at the grand prix, and then I’m gone. You’ll never find me, Alanna, or Summer ever fucking again.”

  49

  Forge

  When she says she’s going to disappear and never be found, it’s like being stabbed in the chest.

  I knew I was going to lose her. I knew that from the beginning. But now, facing the reality of it, I can’t let that happen.

  I shove my hands in my pockets and try to rein in my temper. I fail miserably.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not going anywhere. Much less Prague to play some fucking grand prix.”

  She stalks toward me looking like a warrior princess prepared to do battle with her bare hands. “Don’t think for one second that you can stop me. This isn’t fucking Alcatraz. You’re not my warden. I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back.”

  A million emotions burst through me like flickering flames, but I smother them all with ice—except the rage. That, I grip with both hands and let fly.

  “Try to leave. I. Fucking. Dare. You.” I spit out each word like a curse and round the desk to tower over her.

  I will fucking intimidate her into following orders if I have to. I won’t fuck around with her safety.

  The rage turns icy as I consider one last threat. My tone drops low and quiet, just to make sure she understands. “If you ask Bastien to come save you, I swear to Christ, I will kill him with my bare fucking hands.”

  Indy’s mouth drops open and her blue eyes widen with shock. “You think I asked him to come here last time? Don’t you get it? I hate him! He’s the last person I’d ask for help.” She says it so convincingly, but history doesn’t lie.

  My temper jumps its chain.

  “You sure as fuck didn’t waste any time running to him for help before. Right after you took my check for a million dollars on the promise that you would never go near him again.”

  Indy’s nostrils flare, and she gives me a mutinous look. “I didn’t have a choice! And I didn’t care about you then.”

  Her admission, almost certainly unintentional, stops me cold.

  “What did you say?”

  Indy’s lips clamp together and she backs away, but she can’t take back what she said. I fucking heard it.

  She didn’t care about me then. Which means . . . she does now.

  “What did you say?” I repeat my question and she shakes her head, sending loose waves of blond hair swinging over her shoulder.

  “It doesn’t matter. We made a bargain. You close your deal and you give me my goddamned divorce. Until then, I don’t want to see you or speak to you if you’re going to treat me like a child at best or a prisoner at worst.”

  She spins on bare feet and races out of my office, a sob breaking from her lips before she slams the door behind her.

  “Fuck!” I grab the chair she was sitting in and launch it across the room. The wood cracks when it hits the wall, splintering apart and leaving a mark.

  Footsteps come pounding down the hallway, and someone hammers on my office door.

  “Sir, is everything okay?” It’s Dorsey.

  Instead of grabbing the other chair like I want, I stride to the door and yank it open. With my hands clenched into fists and my lungs heaving, I bite out an order.

  “Tell everyone that my wife doesn’t leave this fucking island, and if she does, you’re all fucking fired. Every single one of you. Understood?”

  Dorsey stumbles back a step as she nods. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”

  I slam my office door hard enough to crack the wood, then grab the back of my neck with both hands before letting out an enraged roar.

  50

  India

  My duffel bag is packed with what little stuff my sister brought, and I’m dressed and ready to get the fuck off this godforsaken rock.

  I don’t care what Forge says; he can’t keep me here. I will steal a boat or stow away or do whatever I have to do. Hell, if I get desperate enough, I’ll steal a dry bag and a life vest and dog-paddle myself to shore.

  I’m going through my mental list of who I could call that owns a boat when my phone rings in the pocket of my robe. I whip it out and stare down at the screen.

  Summer.

  “Please tell me there’s no more bad news,” I say in lieu of a greeting.

  “Whoa. You sound pissed. On the rag?”

  I roll my eyes at her predictable response to me being upset. “No, but I need a fucking rescue from this island. Forge told me I’m not allowed to leave.”

  Summer chuckles, and I want to shake her for not taking me seriously. “Why won’t he let you leave?”

  “He’s concerned for my safety,” I tell her as I grab a stray pair of panties hanging out of a drawer.

  “Well, that sounds kind of sweet.”

  “Don’t even try to take his side. I’ll hang up so quick, you won’t have a chance to say a single word. Which one of your friends has a boat? Can you call in a favor?” My tone sharpens, and my sister’s changes accordingly.

  “Okay, okay. We need a boat to come get you. Got it.”

  Then I remember I didn’t call Summer. She called me. “Why did you call? Is something wrong?”

  “Not exactly wrong . . .”

  I wait for her to elaborate, not in the mood to play twenty questions.

  “I just wanted to tell you that they’ve already cleared out all the broken stuff, and cleaners are tid
ying up everything as we speak. I was going to ask you to thank your husband for Alanna . . . but it sounds like you’d rather stab him.”

  A teeny-tiny sliver of my rage fades away, but only because I’m not an ungrateful bitch.

  “Is that all?”

  “Alanna thought she saw one of the prostitutes this morning while she was at the market. I told her that there was no way, but she swears it was one of them. Of course, you know she now probably wants to save them too.”

  Which was my first thought when I saw them last night. Then I remember what Forge said about my safety, and immediately I extrapolate it to my sister and Alanna.

  “Did she have security with her? One of Forge’s people?” I chew on my lip, waiting for a response, because I can’t stand the thought of Alanna taking chances with her safety if there’s some kind of threat now that my identity has been exposed.

  “Yeah, he insisted. It annoyed her a little, but she went along with it.”

  “Good, that’s good,” I say, nodding even though she can’t see it. “Please tell her that she needs to keep going along with it.” For as long as this lasts, I add to myself.

  “Oh, and Juliette pushed my start date for work back to today instead of Monday. Apparently, she had business in Saint-Tropez that took more time than she thought, so I’m leaving in a few minutes. Wish me luck?”

  The last thing I want to think about right now is Forge’s ex-mistress, but still, not an ungrateful bitch.

  “Of course. Be polite and professional. You know you’re capable of anything she puts in front of you. And if she tries to test you because of me—”

  “Stop.” Summer interrupts my rant before it starts. “Don’t worry, Indy. I got this. I’ll call you tonight and fill you in on all the details.”

  When my sister hangs up, I realize that there’s no boat coming for me. Summer has more important things to do—like secure her future by making a good impression on her new boss.

  The whore.

  Juliette, not my sister.

  Either way, there’s no help or rescue coming from that direction. Which means, as usual, I’m on my own.

  I open the sliding door that leads from the master suite to the patio and the pool, and the first thing I see is the distinct black boat, the one that looks more like a military attack vessel than a civilian runabout, speeding away from the island. It’s still close enough that I can also make out the wind-blown mane of black hair belonging to the man at the helm.

  Forge.

  Oh no, he didn’t. Except, he fucking did.

  Even more determined to find a way off this island, I yank out my phone and scroll through my contacts. I will not be here when he gets back.

  51

  Forge

  “I didn’t expect to see you before we left tomorrow. I thought you said you had everything handled?” Creighton Karas asks me as he opens the door to his suite.

  I look around the room for Holly, not sure I want to have this conversation in front of her.

  “Where’s your wife?” I ask Karas as he closes the door behind me.

  “A designer flew in from Milan to bring her an entire season’s worth of dresses to choose from for her awards-show circuit. They’re in the bedroom.” He gives me a wry look with his eyebrows raised. “Now, tell me you didn’t come here just to see my wife before I gut punch you.”

  “Trust me, that’s the last thing I fucking need this morning.”

  Karas frowns at my strained words. “What’s going on?”

  “Federov sent me an email this morning stating that he’d give on everything he marked up, but only on one condition. And there’s no way I can agree to that condition without both you and Riscoff signing off on it.”

  “He’s willing to give on all the revisions he made in person?” Karas’s eyebrow rises.

  If I were in his position, I’d be asking the exact same thing. When someone who has a reputation of being an impossible negotiator says they’ll give in on everything, you can’t help but wonder why he’d make such an insane shift in behavior.

  “In exchange for what?” Karas asks.

  “Something you won’t fucking believe.”

  I hold a printout of the attachment to the email Federov sent me with his “must be accepted word for word” addendum to the deal. Without it, he won’t agree.

  Karas reads over it and looks up at me, just as surprised as I was when I read it. “He’s fucking serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense,” Karas says, rereading the language that states that the only way Federov will consent to signing the contract is if he’s made a full partner in the entity Karas, Riscoff, and I created, and upon his death, his daughter will receive his share and all rights related to it.

  “It does, when you consider that he doesn’t trust me because I married his daughter behind his back.”

  And I refuse to feel fucking guilty for it. It was the right choice. I’d do it again. Even as I tell myself that, a shred of doubt assails me and I force it down. I did what I had to do.

  Karas hands the addendum back to me. “Well, hell. This changes things.” He walks toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that lead to the terrace. “So essentially, if we agree, you get two shares of the partnership.”

  A strangled laugh catches in my throat. “Not at all.”

  Karas turns around, and his sharp stare cuts to my face. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that there’s no way in hell my marriage is going to last beyond the moment we sign this deal with Federov. Indy will divorce my ass before the ink is dry and run as far away from me as possible.”

  “What the fuck did you do? She seemed fine yesterday.”

  I jam my hands in my pockets. “You assume it was me?”

  Karas’s head tilts back and his entire body shakes with laughter. “Of course it was you. That’s what men do—fuck up because we can’t get our heads out of our asses, especially men who have more money than God and don’t take orders from anyone.”

  I look out the window as well, not sure how to reply. I decide to go with the truth. “She’s looking for a boat to get off the island as we speak. I had to threaten to fire all my employees if she manages to escape.”

  “Jesus Christ, Forge. Don’t you know anything about women?”

  My hands flex into fists. “Apparently not. I don’t expect you to understand the situation.”

  Karas crosses the room and stops in front of the sideboard. “Come on, you need a drink. I’m going to tell you a story, because you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Once he’s poured us each three fingers of whiskey, we take a seat on the balcony.

  “I coerced Holly into marrying me. It might not have been the same situation you’re in, but I did it for my own selfish reasons. Mostly because I saw her once and knew I had to have her.”

  His words sound too familiar, so I stay quiet and let him continue, interested to see where this conversation is going. Mostly because I’m hoping he’ll have the wisdom that’ll act as my silver bullet to fix what I’ve clearly fucked up.

  “She was in a bad spot,” Karas says with his glass dangling from his fingers. “Her record label was trying to force her into a fake engagement with a has-been artist to buoy his reputation. He obviously didn’t get the chance to pop the fake fucking question, because I intervened.”

  “You saved her.”

  Karas turns to meet my gaze. “In some ways. But mostly, she saved me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what it’s like to have everything. More money than you can spend in ten lifetimes. Never have to worry about the cost of anything when you decide you want it. Having everyone around you kissing your ass and begging for favors. It gets old.”

  He speaks the truth, but then again, why wouldn’t he? He’s been a self-made billionaire for longer than I have. My wealth was partly inherited and then grown under the careful cultivation of my rage and plan for reveng
e.

  “A-fucking-men,” I say, lifting my whiskey in salute.

  “And you also know what it’s like to meet a woman who ends the boring monotony of having everything handed to you at your beck and call, or even before you can think to want it. I saw the way you looked at Indy when she’d say something witty or clever. You looked impressed. Proud, even.” Karas takes a sip, his expression thoughtful now that he’s getting uncomfortably personal.

  “What’s your point?” I ask as my fingers close tightly enough around the glass in my hand to nearly crack it.

  “My point is, when you find a woman who gives you a reason to wake up in the morning that’s more than just making more money you’ll never be able to spend—you fucking hold on to her with both hands.”

  “I already fucked that up. She can’t get away from me fast enough.”

  Karas leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up on an ottoman before shooting me a sideways glance.

  “If you think I didn’t fuck up and drive Holly away, you clearly give me way too much credit. I did it, and I did it in true self-absorbed billionaire fashion. I put her at the bottom of my priority list. Took for granted that she’d always be waiting until it was convenient for me. And you know what happened?”

  “What?”

  “I fucking lost her.” He takes another sip as I try to piece together his story.

  Considering how Karas and his wife are together, there’s no way I would ever think he fucked up badly enough to lose her. It seems impossible.

  “But you got her back . . .”

  Karas sits straighter and a wry grin stretches over his face. “Of course. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

  “How?”

  “I tracked her down and begged her to forgive me for being such a fucking moron, and I made her dreams and goals and wishes the center of my world. I made her the center of my world. If you told me the sun doesn’t rise and set over the curves of my wife’s perfect ass, I’d call you a goddamned liar. It doesn’t matter what anyone says or does, or what business deal is on the table. It all comes second to her.”