Luck of the Devil
Page 10
He pulls me tighter against him and locks his arms around me, fucking into me with more force as I hurtle over the edge again. My head whips from side to side as his teeth scrape down my neck and dig into the hollow of my shoulder.
“Jericho!” I scream his name again as I lose every semblance of control.
31
Forge
When I pull free of her body, I realize what I just did. I didn’t wear a condom.
I’ve always worn a condom. Always. I never wanted to take a chance of giving someone a hold over me that I couldn’t escape. But with Indy, I didn’t think twice.
I already married her without a prenup. Why the fuck would I be worried about planting a kid inside her?
I’m not.
The bold reality of it shocks me to my core.
“I’ll get you a towel. Hold on,” I tell her as I roll out of bed. As soon as I hit the bathroom, I remember what the Russian said just before he left.
“We shall toast to the Federov line being continued, even if it has to be mixed with your American blood.”
Is that what I want? I’ve honestly never considered having kids. They’ve never been a dot on my plan for what the rest of my life looks like.
Suddenly, the possibility that I could have gotten Indy pregnant changes the picture drastically and permanently. What if I do want to leave a legacy behind? There’d be no mother as fierce as Indy. She’d shred anyone who tried to harm her child. She’d never abandon her child either.
I stare into the mirror at the man I’ve become. The black hair I inherited from my mother, too shaggy and in need of a cut that I can’t bother to find time for. Dark gray eyes from a father I never knew, eyes that question everything and cut through everyone I meet. A nose that hasn’t been broken since the first time Ruben hit me with a closed fist, and it never healed straight.
Beyond the brute staring back at me, I see the kid I was. The one who was willing to risk dying to have a chance at something better. Just like I’m willing to die for Isaac’s vengeance.
But the flame of revenge that usually burns so brightly is dimmed right now by the vision of a future I couldn’t imagine before this moment.
Can I have both? Or will I have to choose?
I owe Isaac everything for the life I live. That will never be in question.
I shove aside the vivid picture of the future I can’t allow myself to think about and tear my gaze away from the mirror. After cleaning myself, I yank a towel off the rack and dampen it with warm water, then stride back to the room and offer it to the woman in my bed.
My wife.
There’s also no question that she has changed everything. Is changing me. And I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do about it.
Bright red hints of color appear on Indy’s cheeks as soon as I hand the towel to her. “Um, thanks.”
She looks away as she cleans up, and I know I should turn to give her privacy, but I don’t. I keep my gaze locked on her face.
When she finishes, she wraps the sheet around her, offering the towel back to me. I take it and continue to watch her in silence.
“I’m going to shower.”
“Are you on the pill?” The question comes out of nowhere, and I didn’t even know I intended to ask it.
All the color drains from Indy’s face. “No. I’m not. Fuck. I didn’t even think—”
“It’s fine. We’ll deal with the outcome, regardless.”
Her blue eyes widen. “What the hell does that mean?”
I shrug as if this means nothing to me, when suddenly I’ve become very attached to the idea of Indy pregnant with my child. Call it a primordial mentality. Call it fucking crazy. It doesn’t matter which, because it just is.
“We both took part in what just happened, and we’ll deal with the consequences together, if there are any.”
When her brow furrows, I wish I could see inside her head and know what the fuck she’s thinking, because it could change the vision I just saw of what the rest of my life could look like. The one I just told myself I couldn’t think about. If she snatches that possibility away, I’m left with what now seems like a cold, barren road where the only thing that keeps me going is revenge.
This is all the Russian’s fault. He had to get philosophical, and it’s rubbing off on me against my will.
“I’m not just going to deal with the consequences, Forge. If I’m pregnant, I . . . I’m not just taking care of it.”
A rush of relief sweeps through my system. “Good, because that’s not what I was suggesting.”
The lines of confusion deepen on her forehead. “Wait. What?”
I lean down over her until our noses almost touch. “Don’t worry about it until there’s something to worry about. Okay?”
“That’s easy for you to say.” Indy drops her gaze to the sheet fisted in her hand.
“The only reason it’s easy is because it’s you.”
Her head jerks up, surprise widening her blue eyes. She studies my face, and I have no idea what she’s looking for, but she must find it. “We should be fine, but thank you for not insisting that this would be my problem to deal with if . . .”
“Of course not.” I straighten and hold out a hand. “Shower and breakfast?”
A few beats pass before Indy takes it, almost like we’re calling a truce. “That would be great. Thank you.” Her words are quiet and measured, as if she’s not sure how to process the conversation we just had. That makes two of us.
I help her out of bed and she brings the sheet with her, clutching it to her body. If she feels like she needs the armor, she can have it. For now.
“How was the game?” I ask, knowing that if there’s one subject to get her talking confidently, that should be it, given the bag I locked in my safe.
Indy’s face morphs from caution into something completely different. Blinding joy. “I won. I slaughtered them. No one will doubt again that I’m an opponent most men wouldn’t dare face.”
Her smile is so broad, it sets off little lines around the corners of her mouth and eyes, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
“There was never a doubt that you’re a formidable opponent.”
She shrugs, her smile dimming a few watts. “When I played you, I looked like an amateur.”
“No.” I disagree, shaking my head. “You were anything but that. It just so happened . . . I got lucky that night. Perhaps luckier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“I want to play you again. I want to redeem myself. Prove to you that I can win against anyone.” Her chin lifts as her tone takes on a haughty edge that sends a punch of lust to my dick.
I’ll play her again . . .
“For the right stakes, you just might tempt me,” I say.
Her gaze dips to my midsection, and I realize she’s staring at my cock.
“My eyes are up here, madam.”
Indy steps forward, still clutching the sheet, but her smile takes on a teasing edge.
“I think we can come up with stakes that’ll tempt you just fine, Jericho. But in the meantime . . . I’m ready for breakfast, and I want to count my money.”
32
India
“Your avarice might even trump my own,” Forge says as I dump out the bag of cash on the dining room table, even before all the dishes have been cleared away.
I glance at him, and the easy expression on his face calms the doubt that’s plagued me since he pointed out what we’d done—have sex without a condom.
Considering my past, accidental pregnancy has never made my long list of things to worry about. But when Forge sounded like he was suggesting that an abortion would be the right option, I freaked, and my protective instincts over a child that likely wasn’t even conceived shot into overdrive. I’d go to war to protect my child, regardless of the circumstances of its conception. When I finally realized that wasn’t his intent, the weight lifted from my chest and I could finally breathe easy again.
I’m dick-struck. That’s all.
Either way, I put it out of my mind as much as I can with the shirtless temptation in front of me, and focus on the stacks of banded cash.
I’m riding high on the rush of my win, plus I’ve had killer multiple orgasms already today, so there’s literally nothing that could take the wind from my sails right now.
I pick up a stack of hundreds and hold it up to my nose, inhaling the familiar scent. “I like money. I’m not afraid to say it. Maybe it’s gauche, but who the hell cares?” I set it back on the table and grab another to organize them into stacks. “I remember the first big pot I ever won. I didn’t even bother to go home. I went straight to Alanna’s and dumped it on her kitchen counter, and she burst into tears because she thought I robbed a bank.”
Forge’s chuckle joins mine. “What did she say?”
“We have to get you out of the country.”
“That’s true love, right there.” Forge flashes a smile, and oh my God, he has dimples. Not even fair. “She was willing to smuggle you away to escape prosecution.”
I snatch up another bundle and try to erase the dimples from my mind. Easier said than done. I focus on the task ahead of me and keep the conversation light, because my emotions need a break from the whiplash of the last few hours.
“There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for me or Summer. We’re her life, which sometimes seems unfair, but I think that’s the way it was meant to be.”
“I have no doubt of that,” he says, pushing more of the money toward me. “I often wondered why Isaac took me under his wing instead of sending me off to social services after I healed up.”
I shoot another look at him. “Healed up?”
Forge’s smile disappears. “I had a rough childhood. It wasn’t a good time.”
“Your parents hit you?” Dread curdles in my stomach at the picture of a small boy with messy black hair and serious gray eyes dodging blows from an adult who should only love him.
“Not my parents. I didn’t know my father, and my mother left me with her brother and his wife. My uncle liked to drink and didn’t like kids. It wasn’t a good combination.”
He looks down at the cash in his hands and thumbs through the stack like he’s counting it. I can’t help but wonder how much it cost the strong and capable man he is now to admit that to me.
“I’m so sorry.”
He lifts his head, his expression neutral. “There’s no need to be sorry. If not for that, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
Even if he can brush it off easily, I can’t forget the picture of a battered boy. But he doesn’t want my sympathy. I know enough about the man to guess that. Just like I don’t want his pity for the things I had to do for Summer and me to survive. I’m proud of how I fought against the odds and won. No one can ever take that away from me, just like no one can take away the blows that forged him into the man he is today.
“Life does somehow seem to work in strange ways, even when we don’t understand why.” I say the words absently, but my mind latches onto them as soon as they leave my lips. Was I meant to end up married to this man? If so, why? And for how long?
While I’m grappling with these questions I can’t answer, Forge finishes stacking the money and pushes it toward me.
“I agree, to a certain extent. But if you want something, you have to earn it. Isaac taught me that.”
I nod in agreement. “I learned that early. No one in this world owes you a goddamned thing. At least, not if you grow up without parents like we did.”
It’s strange to think that’s one thing we have in common.
“How long were you on the streets, taking care of Summer alone?” He leans back in the chair and threads his fingers behind his head. His abs and pecs ripple with the movement, and I knock one of my piles over.
Looking down, I scoop it up and try to remember the question he asked. How long were we on the street?
“Long enough that it was a blessing to find someone who wanted to help us, even if I didn’t trust her.”
“I can’t imagine you trusting anyone easily.”
My gaze lifts to his. I focus on his face, and not how much I want to jump out of my chair and make myself at home on his lap.
Stop it, Indy. Pull it together.
“I slept next to Summer for months, worried that Alanna might turn out to be some kind of creep, even though my every instinct said that she was the real deal.”
“I’m glad you found her.”
“I’m glad you found Isaac.”
For a few moments, we stare at each other, and it feels like a bond snaps into place between us. We have common ground that I never realized. Forge isn’t just an arrogant asshole. He’s . . . real.
And that makes him even more dangerous to me.
I break our stare and bring my attention back to where it needs to be. The money. It’s the only thing I can count on for sure.
I do a quick mental tally. “Two point three million. Not too shabby.”
“Not too shabby, indeed,” Forge says as he releases his grip on his neck and sits straight. “What are you going to do with it?”
I tilt my head to the side like I have to consider what I’ve already decided. “Spend some. Celebrate a little. Because I like pretty things just as much as the next girl. Invest the rest. Make more money.”
With both elbows on the table and his hair falling into his eyes, he nods. “You’re a woman after my own heart. You have any investment plans?”
I purse my lips and pretend I’m considering rather than getting stuck on the woman after my own heart comment. “Mmm. I don’t know yet.”
“If you need investment advice, I know a guy,” he says with a wolfish grin.
“You?”
He shakes his head. “No. You don’t trust me yet. But I have a good friend and business partner who’s on the island with his wife for vacation and business. He has a gift for making money that I’ve never seen before. Sometimes I wonder if he’s human, but then you meet his wife and see them together, and you realize he’s just a man.” Forge drums his fingers on the table. “As a matter of fact, they’ve invited us to dinner tonight, if you’re interested.”
I try to hide my surprise. Forge wants me to meet his friends? Be part of his life and not hidden away? What does that mean?
Cautiously, I clarify. “You want to take me to dinner and introduce me to your business partner and his wife?”
“Yes, I would. Very much.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you’d enjoy a night where you’re not constantly trying to figure out what’s happening three moves ahead.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat, because I’m not sure how to feel about this at all. Dinner with friends sounds so normal . . . and not like our marriage is based on something financially beneficial to Forge.
Maybe I can learn more about him. Figure out what makes him tick. Figure out how to make him want me for me.
The last thought strikes out of nowhere, but I can’t say that it’s a lie.
“Okay. I’ll go.”
33
Forge
Indy changes her outfit seven times. I know because I count, and she’s officially run out of what she considers proper clothes for drinks by the pool and dinner.
“If you don’t make up your mind, I’ll have my personal shopper send an entire store of clothes over.”
She spins around in the bedroom and shoots me a look that says I would have done better to keep my mouth shut. Something about this whole day feels domestic in a way I’ve never experienced, and instead of unnerving me, I don’t want to lose it.
The scowl on her face says I’m doing just fine.
“I’ll figure it out. I just . . . I don’t know what to expect. I usually study people before I meet them in real life.”
“Stop worrying. You’ll be fine. They’re good people. If I thought there would be any issue, I would’ve said no and not brought it up.”
She scrunches her nose. “I know I’ll be fine. I can handle myself. I sit at the poker tables with billionaires and sheikhs.”
“I know you can. Once you figure out what to wear . . .”
Indy shoots me the middle finger. “I’ll be ready in an hour.”
“Good, because otherwise we’ll be late.” I take a step toward the door, but Indy tosses a shirt at my head.
With one brow tugging upward, I stop. “Yes?”
“Just so you know, I’m paying for something tonight.”
Her expression is mulish, but I push back anyway.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Maybe not to you, but it is to me. I don’t care if it’s the appetizers or dessert, or even a damn rose for his wife. I’m paying for something. I am a millionaire, after all. It might not be much compared to what you have—”
I almost start laughing, because technically, as long as we’re married, what’s mine is also hers. But clearly, Indy doesn’t think that way, which confirms for the dozenth time that she’s nothing like any other woman in my past.
“You’re a multimillionaire, Ace. Don’t sell yourself short. I’ll make sure you can spend some money tonight. You have my word.”
Her chin juts stubbornly. “Good. Now go. I want you to be wowed when you see me.”
With my lips still tugging upward, I step out and close the door. To the empty hallway, I say, “You don’t have to worry about that. I always am.”
34
India
I’m going to kill him. Literally. With my bare hands. Maybe drown him in the blue waters of the pool beside us. Or maybe drag him out across the beach and let the ocean take him for good.
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