Despite his bold words, he backs into the room and moves to the side, revealing India sitting on the bed, slowly rocking back and forth like she’s catatonic.
“What the hell did you do to her?” I demand.
“I told her some of the truth.” He laughs, but clearly he’s the only person who thinks there’s a damn thing funny about this situation. “Isn’t that right, my dear? Why don’t you tell Forge how upset you were when you found out he lied about your sister’s rescue to get you to marry him?”
“Why should I believe either of you?”
When India finally looks directly at me, I realize something’s very wrong. Her blue eyes are nearly solid black from her completely blown pupils.
“What the fuck did you give her?” I jab the gun into de Vere’s chest where his shirt hangs open.
“Whoa . . .” India stands with her arms out to the side for balance, and sways back and forth like she’s on the deck of a ship sailing through a gale. She blinks a few times before rubbing her hands down her face. “I’m fucked up.”
“Goliath. Cover de Vere.” I hear a grunt from out in the living room, and I hope it means Mickey has been restrained.
Goliath trains his gun on de Vere, and I reach out for India.
“Come here. I got you.” I hold out my left hand, but she zeroes in on the pistol in my right.
“I don’t like guns.” Her words come out slurred.
De Vere snorts a laugh and then grunts, telling me Goliath probably shut him up.
As soon as the gun is out of sight, Indy takes another step and I catch her in my arms. I do a quick rundown before pulling her into my side to support her unsteady legs.
Flushed. Body temp higher than normal. Pupils blown. She’s rolling.
I look to de Vere. “Molly? Ecstasy? Some other party drug you cooked up?”
“Nothing she hasn’t had before, I’m sure,” de Vere says, his tone mocking.
India’s arm slides around my back, and her face presses against my jacket. “This is soft. Really soft.” She rubs her cheek along the Italian linen like a kitten with a silky blanket.
“She’ll be fine in a few hours,” de Vere says, and my gaze snaps to his. “At least, until she starts asking you who her father is and why you’d marry her without a prenup. When you tell her that she’s the daughter of—”
“I don’t have a father,” Indy says as she buries her face in my jacket. “I never have. Never will. And I don’t want to hear another goddamned thing about it. Fuck him. Fuck you. Fuck everyone.”
Goliath presses the barrel of his gun to de Vere’s temple.
“You heard her. She doesn’t want to hear a fucking thing you have to say.”
De Vere’s leer fades to a grimace. “She’ll find out the truth eventually. Even if you have your henchman end me right now. Which you won’t. Because you can’t even give the order to pull the fucking trigger.”
Blood pounds in my temple, and my jaw clenches. More than anything, I want to pull the gun from where I shoved it and squeeze the trigger until every round is buried in de Vere’s body. But he’s right about one thing—I won’t give Goliath the order to do it. De Vere’s death belongs to me. For Isaac. For his vengeance. For my own fucking peace.
“I don’t like guns.” India tugs away from my body, and de Vere’s smug laughter echoes off the walls of the room.
Against every single instinct I have, I nod to Goliath to lower his gun. It’s not like he can’t keep de Vere in line just as easily without one.
I pull Indy tighter against me, but she continues to struggle. “It’s gone. No more guns.” Only when I say the words does she stop fighting me.
De Vere’s frozen stare rakes over where I hold her in my arms. “You might have her now, but you’ll never be able to keep her.” He pauses to straighten his shirt. “But then again, that was never the plan, was it, Forge? You’re going to get what you need from Indy’s rich daddy and pay her off well enough that you never have to see her again. I bet you have it all planned out.”
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
“Or what? You’re going to shoot me? You’re not man enough. Just like you’re not man enough to tell her the truth. But don’t worry. She’ll find out soon enough.”
De Vere’s lips stretch into a mocking smile.
“Indy wouldn’t listen today, but when she learns for herself, she’s going to walk away and fuck up every one of your plans. I can’t wait to watch her leave you and take your money with her. Should’ve had her sign a prenup . . . but we both know why you didn’t.”
9
India
Prenup. Prenup. Prenup.
The word beats in my head, and I know I should ask why I didn’t sign one, but I’m too entertained by rubbing my face against Forge’s suit.
Lights and colors swirl in my brain as I let my eyes close again. “It’s bright.”
As soon as I speak, Forge stiffens. “Keep your eyes closed. We’re leaving right now. I’m picking you up.”
I do as he says, enjoying the light show in my mind much more than the harsh glare of sunlight coming from the other room, but my head spins as he lifts me off the floor.
“Whoa. Whoa.” I wrap my arms around his neck for stability.
“I can’t believe you’d even consider going with him. What a fucking joke,” Bastien says, sounding like a spoiled little boy who lost a game he thought was fixed. “I didn’t lie to you, Indy. That’s all he’ll do. He’ll never tell you a fucking bit of the truth. You’re his pawn, not his wife.”
Forge’s arms tighten around me. “Don’t you fucking speak to her.”
Forge barks out the command, and even though I know I should be asking for answers to all the questions Bastien raised, I don’t care right now.
I want to be angry, but I can’t summon the emotion when I’m pressed against the silky material of Forge’s suit, breathing in the sandalwood and fresh man scent. His fingertips brush my arm over and over, soothing me, and I soak up the sensation. I wish he could trail his fingertips all over me and not just that small patch of skin.
It’s the drugs. I’ve taken party drugs before, so I know what’s happening, and I also know there’s nothing I can do but ride it out and maybe even enjoy it.
Stupid, Indy.
The critical voice in my head tells me I’m an idiot, and it’s probably right. But my brain just dumped every bit of my serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine into my system, and every sensation feels amazing. It’s been years since I’ve felt this incredible.
I nuzzle his neck, wanting to get another hint of the scent coming off his skin. One of my hands reaches up to comb through the too-long ends of his black hair. Ooh, smooth and silky. I curl the locks around my fingers, and he lets me.
He’s so warm and strong and cuddly. At least, right now he is. No doubt, as soon as the drug wears off in a few hours, my entire world will come crashing to a halt, and Forge will once again be a prickly beast. Maybe it makes me a coward or a moron, but I’d rather enjoy this hazy, happy feeling rather than hurry up the inevitable return of cold reality.
I also don’t want to be anywhere near Bastien when I come down, because I’ll want to kill him. The next wave of sensation hits me, and my head and fingers drop against Forge’s shoulder.
“I need to lay down.”
His breath caresses my cheek as he replies. “We’re leaving now.” His lips brush the shell of my ear as his head lifts and he speaks to Bastien.
“Goliath will make sure you don’t follow us. Your friend who was driving the red Lambo will be on the roof if you’re looking for him.”
10
Forge
I’ve never carried cargo so precious or been so fucking worried about another person as I make my way into the villa and head straight for my bedroom. Every minute of the short flight to Isla del Cielo, I kept Indy close to me, brushing my hand over her forehead to check her temperature in between giving her sips of water.
Over the years, I’ve seen plenty of people in her state, and not once has a single one of them had any adverse complications. However, just to be certain, and because of the knot on her head, Donnigan contacted my private physician. He told us to watch her, try not to cause her any distress, and he could be out within thirty minutes if we needed him.
Indy’s not showing any signs to cause concern, but I’m not about to take chances or spend a minute not watching her like I have her under a microscope.
“Are you too warm?” I ask her as I lay her on the bed and press the button on the remote to automatically close all the shades to shield her eyes.
“A little,” Indy replies as she rolls over onto her back and snags the hem of her shirt to pull it up over her head. Thankfully, she’s still wearing the bikini she bought in Saint-Tropez beneath it. Then she wriggles out of her skirt, and I untangle it from between her feet.
“Better?”
“I want a shower. That would feel so good.”
Her eyes are closed and her tone is languid. Because I have every interest in keeping her body temperature within safe ranges, I agree with her suggestion.
“You can open your eyes now. It’s dark enough. I’ll get the shower running.”
I rise to step away, but she reaches out and grasps my wrist. I look down into her big black pupils and faintly see the slivers of blue around them.
“I’m okay, Forge.” Her features take on a serious cast. “You don’t have to take care of me. I’m not going to die and screw up your plans. Don’t be nice to me if you’re just trying to cover your own ass. I don’t trust you either.”
Her honesty, whether a side effect of the drug or not, is like an elbow to the gut, and I wish I didn’t deserve the disdain her words convey.
“India, I have things I have to tell you,” I say, but she shakes her head.
“Don’t fuck up my roll, Forge. It might not have been my choice, but I’m going to enjoy this before I have to face reality.”
11
India
Forge’s lips press together, and he nods before walking toward the wide doorway that must lead to the en-suite bathroom. As soon as I hear water, a rush of power sweeps over me.
I gave Forge an order, and he followed it.
The entire way home, he watched me like a hawk, lines forming in the tanned skin around his eyes.
Either Forge feels something for me whether he wants to or not . . . or Bastien’s right, and Forge is just protecting his asset because he needs me. I don’t know which it is, but I don’t want to be any man’s pawn.
All I’ve ever wanted is a life that couldn’t be ripped away from me at any given moment. Safety. Stability. The knowledge that I would fall asleep every night with my head on the pillow I chose to sleep on, not somewhere I was forced to be out of necessity and survival.
Do I truly have a father? Is that why Forge married me? Did he really kidnap my sister just so he could manipulate me?
That’s a plan I could see Bastien hatching, but not so much Forge, unless I’m wildly wrong about him.
Or because I’ve been dick-struck and I want at least one more ride on the Kraken before I tell him I never want to see him again.
Forge steps out of the bathroom, holding a fluffy white robe. “The shower’s ready when you are.”
I shove all the thoughts out of my head and latch onto the only thing that matters right now. This gorgeous billionaire of a man is here to do my bidding.
I don’t know why that knowledge gives me such a thrill, but it does, and I’m going to embrace it for as long as I can. Maybe it’s the same reason I love to win at poker against rich and powerful men who don’t think I have the skill or the nerve to bluff them out of their fortunes.
Yep, I’ve probably got daddy issues.
The next wave of the drug hits me as I swing my feet over the side of the bed. When I rise on wobbly legs, Forge strides forward.
“I’ll carry you.”
I hold out a hand, and when he freezes in place, I have to hide my grin. He really does what I command. It takes all my concentration not to let out a giggle.
“I can walk.” I pause. “But I’ll take your arm. For balance, I mean.”
With his thickly stubbled jaw tensing, he nods, and I can’t help but wonder how much doing my bidding costs him.
Seems fair to me.
I grip his arm with my right hand. The extra sway in my hips means that I bump him with every step, and I won’t even apologize for it. When we reach the bathroom, the lights have been dimmed to almost pure darkness, which my eyes certainly appreciate. There’s even a candle on the rough-edged rock countertop that makes me smile.
He’s actually trying to make this better for me.
When I stop in front of the carwash-sized glass shower enclosure, I know exactly what I’m going to do next.
Forge reaches for the handle and opens the door, releasing the barest hint of steam. I’m impressed he knew not to turn the water too hot because he doesn’t want me to have hyperthermia and organ failure, which is the biggest risk of club drugs like whatever Bastien’s asshole friend gave me.
Before I can chastise myself for being so naive as to take any kind of pill they gave me, I remind myself that at least my head doesn’t hurt at all, and I get to put off reality for at least another six hours. Which means going back to my initial idea—
Enjoy the shit out of this. Because once I wake up, I’m gone, and whatever plans Forge had are over.
I reach for the tie on my bathing suit top, and Forge touches my arm to still my movement.
“Keep it on.” His voice sounds strangled, and not at all like the man who has been playing with my libido for the last few days.
I shoot him a sideways glance as I tug the tie free. “If I don’t care about you catching the full show, why would you?”
“Goddammit—”
“Shut up, Forge.”
I drop the tie and my breasts spill free of the top. But because he’s a contrary man, Forge doesn’t look down. He keeps staring directly into my eyes.
Try to ignore me, I say silently. I dare you.
I reach around the back and tug the knot to release it completely before I shove the bottoms over my hips. The healing cut on my side twinges, but not enough to dull the decadent feeling of the cool air wafting over my skin. My nipples peak, and I can’t wait to get under the warm water. Stepping around Forge, who still hasn’t looked anywhere but my face, I walk into the shower and moan as the spray touches my skin.
“God, that feels so good.” I groan as I tip my head back and let the water beat down over my hair. Reveling in the sensation, I sway from side to side.
“Jesus Christ. Sit down. I’m not taking another chance that you’re going to fall and crack your head.”
A smile stretches my lips wide. “If you’re going to give me orders while I’m naked, you better make them dirtier than that.” I open my eyes to see Forge’s jaw tick and his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.
“Indy . . .”
“Only my friends call me Indy, and you’re not one of them.”
12
Forge
Her statement slices me again, even though I shouldn’t care what she thinks of me.
She’s a means to an end, I remind myself, but I know I’m lying. She was a means to an end. Sometime in the last forty-eight hours, that changed. Now she has become something much more dangerous and unpredictable.
Indy presses her fingertips to her forehead before dragging them down her body, and it’s impossible not to follow them as she skims over her face, her chin, her chest, and then her tits, where she pauses to circle a tightly budded nipple. My teeth grate together at the thought of pulling it into my mouth and teasing it with my tongue before sucking hard and giving it a sharp tug.
She’s taunting me in the most daring way possible.
“I know you want me,” Indy says, her words coming out on a purr as she destroys more of my self-control. “And
right now, maybe for the last time ever, I want you too.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I can’t touch her. Not now. Not like this.
But she’s right, this might be the last chance I ever have.
Maybe that’s my punishment for doing what I’ve done. Getting one shot at the thing I didn’t know I’d want most, and then having it ripped away from me forever.
Still, it wouldn’t be right. I might have gotten to where I am by being an opportunistic asshole, but something about taking advantage of her in this state doesn’t feel right . . . no matter how much I don’t want to care about morals or ethics at this moment.
I shake my head. “You can’t handle me, little girl.”
Her eyes roll as she tilts her head from side to side, arching her spine. Her fingers continue lower, skimming over her curved stomach and then to the shaved section right above her pussy.
“Bullshit. You’re the one who can’t handle me. I know exactly what I’m asking for. I want you to touch me and fuck me and make me come until I can forget every goddamned thing while I ride this out.” Her eyes snap open and she stares me down. “But you can tell yourself you’re being a martyr by not taking advantage. I’ll touch myself. Fuck myself. And pretend it’s you instead.”
Well, fuck.
As soon as her fingertips slide over her clit, my self-control jumps its chain, demanding I strip and follow her into the water for one last taste of the promised land. Indy moans my name as she thrusts her finger between her pink folds, and the battle is over before it even started.
I rip off my tie, kick off my shoes, strip out of my jacket, shirt, and pants, and follow her in—just in time for her to spin around on her toes and lose her balance. My heart in my throat, I lurch forward with my arms outstretched, and catch her slippery, naked body against mine as the water streams down over us both.
Luck of the Devil Page 4
