I give Federov a nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You will do it, Forge. I have no doubt. You like money more than anything, although perhaps . . . perhaps you are learning that it is not everything. You cannot take it with you when you go, and it makes for a lonely bedmate, as does revenge.”
I tuck my hands into my pockets, watching a satisfied expression spread over the cagey old man’s face. “You’ve mentioned revenge twice now, Federov. Exactly how much do you know about me?”
The Russian grins, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen on his face since he stepped foot on Isla del Cielo.
“Now? I know everything, Mr. Forge. Including the fact that not all things are as they appear. Be careful. I would hate to see my daughter a widow before you have proven your merit as a husband.”
“I’m not worried, Federov.” I incline my head at him as he turns toward the chopper. “Take care.”
He salutes me and then walks toward the open door with his chin high, shoulders straight, and the slightest hint of a limp. I need absolutely zero convincing to believe with certainty that Indy is his daughter, and clearly, neither does he.
As the chopper lifts off the ground, I watch it fly away into the dark night sky, the lights dimming as it heads toward mainland Spain.
Grigory Federov is a juggernaut determined to get his own way. Unfortunately for him, I’m equally determined, and the most important negotiation of my life is no longer with him . . . it’s with his daughter.
27
India
“Congratulations, Mrs. Forge. You played impressively tonight,” Gallardo says as Batman collects my trays of chips.
“She did, indeed.” Belevich rises from the table and approaches me as Batman steps away. “Which is why I want another chance to play you.”
I meet Belevich’s icy gaze, which remains sharp, even with the vodka he’s been swilling all night. My mind is still grappling with his statement earlier about my sister. How could he know?
Batman pauses and looks at me. “Mrs. Forge, would you like us to escort you back to your room?”
“Give me five minutes, please,” I tell him with a tight smile. I’m not leaving until I hear what Belevich has to say, because if there’s a chance he was involved with Summer’s kidnapping, I need to know. And I still haven’t forgotten about the Russian men Miguel said were sniffing around my apartment.
When Batman continues to hover near the edge of the dais where the poker game took place, I glance over at him. “I’ll join you by the cashier shortly.”
“Ma’am—”
“Thank you so much.”
I know he’s probably under orders not to leave my side, but I refuse to be babysat like I’m a child instead of a grown woman. Nothing is going to happen to me in this casino, except for perhaps someone trying to steal my winnings.
Or . . . The hair that has been standing on end all night as Bastien watched the game from the craps table comes back with a vengeance. I turn around to see that he’s no longer there.
“De Vere has removed himself to the bar, Mrs. Forge,” Belevich says, and my gaze cuts to him before searching for the familiar blond head of hair at the end of the bar.
Bastien’s on his cell, and he’s staring just as intently as he did throughout the game when I’d give in to my instincts to check. Bastien is no longer the playboy trying to sleep with me to prove he can. No, now he’s the enemy, and I can practically see the rage rolling off him. Broke and desperate equals dangerous as hell in my book.
“How did you know who I was looking for?” I ask Belevich point blank.
Between him studying me like a pinned butterfly during the game and dropping hints that he has information about my sister, I can only draw one conclusion—Belevich has motives that I don’t yet understand, and I need to treat him with caution.
Batman removed himself with my chips, but Spiderman isn’t far away. Superman is nowhere to be seen. It’s fine. I’m safe. No one is going to get me here. Unless my biggest threat is the man standing directly in front of me.
“De Vere has made no secret of his interest in you.”
Belevich’s reply tells me nothing, but it’s not the information I’m really seeking anyway. “Who told you about my sister’s trouble? Do you know who was involved?”
He shows absolutely no reaction to any of my questions and says nothing.
“Seriously?” I plant a hand on my hip. “If your poker face was that good during the game, Belevich, maybe I wouldn’t always know when you’re bluffing.”
The taunt works, and the Russian scowls at me. “You are just as arrogant as your husband. I’m surprised he let you out of his sight. He doesn’t seem like a man who would let his property off the leash, let alone off his little island.”
I drop my head back and look up at the chandeliers and laugh. “Oh, I get it. You still think we live in a time when men own women and they have no say. So very backward of you.”
Instead of biting back at me, Belevich smirks, holding his vodka glass carelessly in one hand. “But isn’t that what they were going to do with your sister? Sell her off to a man to be his property?”
All humor evaporates from my entire body, and I stiffen. “What the fuck did you have to do with it, Belevich? I swear to Christ, I will fucking kill you myself if you—”
“Ah, Mrs. Forge. Indy,” he says, his patronizing tone grating on me. “You assume too much. Rumors spread quickly in our crowd.”
I grit my teeth, knowing I won’t get a straight answer out of him tonight. “If you had something to do with any of this, be aware—I will find out and I will make you pay.”
“You have a temper that would make your father very proud,” he says as he raises the glass to his lips. “As long as he did not catch the sharp side of your tongue.”
The statement catches me off guard, and I don’t have time to school my reaction. Instead, I blurt, “You know my father?”
“Everybody knows Grigory Federov,” Belevich says over his vodka.
Grigory Federov. I repeat the name silently before meeting Belevich’s gaze again. “How long have you known who I am?”
He purses his lips and considers. “Long enough to form a hypothesis that ended up being very financially beneficial to me.”
The phrase financially beneficial threatens to make my head explode, but I push it aside and try to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.
“You were the one who told him that I could be the long-lost daughter, weren’t you?”
Belevich shrugs. “When you abandon your ploys and go in for the kill, you play like him. Bold. Aggressive. Out for blood. He would be proud to know this.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
His expression turns serious again. “I want to win my money back from you.”
The abrupt change in conversation leaves me struggling to figure out what the hell his angle is, and what he really wants from me.
“Too late. Game’s over.”
“Not now,” Belevich says with a shake of his head. “Next week. The Prague Grand Prix. We’ll play again at the final table.”
I know the game he references well. I won it years before in an upset they still talk about at the tables. It caught the attention of the people who needed to know I existed, and helped me cement my career as a professional poker player. I don’t need to play it again. I have nothing to prove.
“I’m not interested,” I tell him, shifting on my heel as though ready to leave.
“Of course, the pot isn’t big enough to pique your attention. Why don’t we make it more interesting?”
“How?”
“Five-million-dollar side bet.”
He tosses it out like it’s off the cuff, but I have to believe Belevich has been thinking about this throughout the game. Why, though? Instead of asking the question I really want answered, I taunt him.
“I’m married to a billionaire. Your five million doesn’t even get my blood pumpi
“What if I promised, win or lose, I will give you all the information I’ve been told about your sister?”
Abandoning my intent to stroll away and tell him to fuck off, I step closer into Belevich’s personal space. “Why don’t you just tell me now and we can skip this bullshit?”
I want to slap the half smile off Belevich’s face as he speaks.
“Because I’m Russian and stubborn, and I want another chance to win my money back.”
“I’ll give you every fucking penny I won tonight.”
He shakes his head. “It is not the same. I do not want you to give me anything. I want to take it from you.”
My jaw clenches, and a vein throbs in my temple. “Why Prague?”
“Because everyone will be watching, and they’ll all cheer when I win.”
Fucking men and their egos. I’m not going to get anything out of him tonight, except maybe . . . maybe I can get a little reassurance.
“I’ll only consider it under one condition,” I tell him.
He inclines his head as if waiting for me to continue.
“Is Summer still in danger?”
The Russian presses his lips together. “I would never assume that you or anyone you love is completely safe, especially not now when you’ve married a man with many enemies who would love to see him brought low.” He lifts his chin in the direction beyond my right shoulder. “De Vere is only one such enemy.”
Great. More riddles.
I glance over my shoulder to where Bastien is still on the phone, eyeballing me and Belevich. Now, the only thing I want more than information is to get the fuck out of here, right now.
“If an invite to the grand prix shows up in my hand, I’ll consider it. I make no promises.”
“You’ll get the invitation. I look forward to seeing you there.” He lifts his vodka in salute before backing away and disappearing into the crowd beyond the dais.
Batman crosses over to me as soon as Belevich is out of sight. “Mrs. Forge, are you ready?”
“Yes, but I’m not staying here tonight. I want to pack my stuff and get the hell out of here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Batman pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’ll contact the pilot and pick up your winnings.” Glancing at the other two guards, he says, “They’ll escort you to your room, and we will arrange to depart as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.”
With two bodyguards trailing me, I stride past where Bastien sits at the bar, still on his cell phone. His gaze trails over me, leaving a creepy feeling in its wake.
What the hell are you scheming about now?
28
India
Instead of guiding me to my hotel room to pack my bag and then taking me to the helipad, Superman and Spiderman lead me out of the back entrance of the casino as Spiderman returns his phone to his pocket.
“What’s going on?” I ask as the door opens to reveal a black SUV. “Why aren’t we taking the helicopter?” All my uneasy feelings rise to the surface as I stare at the unknown vehicle.
“We had a slight mechanical issue with the helicopter during refueling,” Spiderman says. “The mechanic can’t check it for several hours. Mr. Forge made other arrangements to get you home.”
The mention of my husband calms my nerves a little. Regardless of whether I trust him, I don’t believe he would put me in danger.
“How are we getting home?” I ask as Superman opens the door for me.
“Mr. Forge has a boat at the marina here. It won’t be as quick as the chopper flight, but you’ll be home as fast as possible.”
I slide into the middle seat of the SUV, mulling over the last-minute complications, and I can’t help but wonder if Bastien or Belevich are involved.
“Was the chopper tampered with?” I ask as Batman exits the casino, my bag in hand.
“No, ma’am. There’s no sign of anything like that,” Superman replies. “We could fly, but Mr. Forge’s instructions were not to take any chances with your safety.”
Warmth curls in my chest at his statement. “I hope you told Mr. Forge that I’m coming back with a big fat bag of money too.”
Superman smiles. “I’ll let you tell him that, ma’am.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go.”
* * *
A few hours later, someone touches my arm.
“You’re home,” a deep voice whispers, interrupting my dream.
And it was a good dream too. One where a pirate boarded my ship, carried me off, and claimed me as his. I want to get back to it.
“Tired. Let me sleep.”
“All right, Ace. You sleep.”
29
Forge
I lift my wife into my arms and carry her off the boat and up to the house. She’s completely out, and curls against me like there’s no question that I’ll carry her where she needs to go and get her there safely.
“You’re falling in love with my daughter.”
I can’t stop thinking about the Russian’s claim. I’ve never been in love. Never had an interest in it. But now, I can’t help but wonder if what I’m feeling about India is more than possessiveness and protectiveness.
It doesn’t matter.
But the Russian . . . he seemed to think it did.
Regardless, now isn’t the time to worry about it.
When we reach the house, Bates holds up a duffel bag. “What would you like me to do with this one, sir?”
“What’s in it?”
“Your wife’s winnings.”
A smile curves my lips. “Put it on my desk. I’ll lock it in the safe for her.”
“Yes, sir.” He turns to leave and then pauses. “Debrief in the morning, sir?”
I look down at the sleeping woman in my arms. “Yes. Everything else can wait.”
He gives me another nod and moves toward my office.
I enter the bedroom and lay Indy down on her side of the bed. It’s the one she’s claimed, and regardless of the fact that it was my preferred side, I let her keep it.
That doesn’t mean I’m in love with her.
Indy flops to her side, struggling against the fabric of the dress.
Considering how it clings to her body like a second skin, I can imagine why she’d want to be free. The zipper starts at the top of her back, and I slide it down until the material loosens. Carefully, I roll the dress down her body, only to realize she wore nothing beneath it.
When I free her legs, she’s completely and beautifully naked. More than anything, I want to flip her onto her back and bury myself between her legs, fucking us both into oblivion, where I no longer have the brainpower to consider her father’s words.
But I don’t.
I reach for the covers to tuck her in and back away slowly.
30
India
Light streams in from open curtains, waking me from the final and most delicious dream I’ve had all night.
My entire body tenses with panic for a moment when I remember I fell asleep on a boat, but nothing’s rocking anymore.
Warmth radiates from a massive heat source beside me. A heavy arm hangs over my side, and morning wood presses against my ass.
I glance over my shoulder and bite down on my lip when I see the mess of dark hair shielding Forge’s face. Then I remember the game in Mallorca. I brought home a little under $2.5 million. Not bad for a night’s work.
I shift, not sure if I want to press against him or pull away, and Forge’s erection nestles into the crack of my ass. My naked ass.
How . . . ? The hand against my stomach stiffens and pulls me closer.
I give in to the devil riding my shoulder and rock backward, pressing harder against him.
“I hope like fuck you’re awake and know what the hell you’re doing.” His voice is rough from sleep as his hold tightens on me, sending shivers through my body and peaking my nipples.
“And if I wasn’t?”
���You’d wake up to an entirely different type of alarm.” His cock pulls away and slips through the gap in my thighs. “Fuck, you’re already wet.”
With a sharp inhale, I bite down on my lip harder to keep from moaning. It feels so damn good. I know I shouldn’t tilt my hips just the right angle to nudge the head of his cock against my opening, but I can’t help it.
“Fuck, Ace . . .”
“Yes, fuck me. Right now.”
I don’t know what it is about this moment, but suddenly it feels like this is the most natural thing in the world to wake up with him curled around me, just before his thick shaft tunnels inside me.
I want it. I won’t apologize for it. I press down against him, and my breath catches as his girth stretches me wide.
Forge’s hands move, one covering my pussy and the other cupping my breast to roll my nipple between his finger and thumb. He groans as he bottoms out, and my head tips back.
His lips find my neck, and he presses a kiss against my skin. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs before he pulls back.
Each stroke takes me higher and higher, waking up every bit of my body in the most exquisite fashion. This isn’t like any of the other times. It’s somehow more intimate because we’re both moaning and groaning as we destroy each other.
My orgasm builds steadily, helped along by his clever fingers strumming my clit. It’s too much. I struggle to grab his wrist to pull it away, but his other hand pins me in place. I can’t escape from the blinding pleasure—I can only lie there, letting him give me everything I never knew I needed.
When my orgasm finally shatters me, I moan his name. “Jericho.”
As soon as the last syllable leaves my lips, it’s like I’ve flipped a switch, turning him into an insatiable beast.
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