Luck of the Devil

by March, Meghan

  I hear what he’s saying, but it seems completely at odds with the man I’ve come to know.

  “You’re telling me I should give up this deal with Federov to prove something?”

  Karas chuckles over the rim of his glass. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, but if she’s going to walk away, it’s not because of this deal. It’s because you haven’t stopped to figure out what matters to her. You haven’t listened to what she says she needs to be happy.”

  “You know you sound like a sappy self-help book, right?” I lower my empty glass to the table between us and sit forward.

  “Fuck off, Forge. I know what I’m talking about. Only one of us is happily married and has the most gorgeous daughter in the world who will never date until I’m dead and buried, because no man will ever be good enough for my Rose.”

  Karas’s entire expression softens when he talks about his daughter, and I can’t help but think about the fact that Indy and I didn’t use protection. Before her, I never thought I’d be interested in having kids because of my shitty childhood, but now I can see Indy with a little girl, teaching her to bluff at poker. Or me with a little boy, helping him learn to fish off the pier on the island.

  Suddenly, I’m jealous as fuck of what Karas has with his wife and daughter. His family.

  Isaac told me I was his family, and family always came first. How did I forget something so basic and important? How did I fuck this up so badly?

  I have to fix it. I have no choice. I can’t let her go like this.

  “What do I do? How do I salvage this thing?”

  “First off,” Karas says, rising to walk inside the penthouse. “It’s not a thing. It’s your marriage. And congratulations, it’s now your top fucking priority. It takes more work than anything you’ve ever done before in your life, including building a shipping empire from almost nothing to biggest in the world.”

  “You’re really doing a great job selling this, by the way.”

  He disappears inside and returns a moment later with the bottle of whiskey. Using it to gesture, he says, “Shut the fuck up, Forge, and listen. Don’t, for a single minute, think she’s going to be easier to negotiate with than her pissed-off Russian father. That’s your first mistake. I don’t know what the hell happened between you two, but I do know that you’ve probably hurt her somehow, and now you have to fix it. What does she want more than anything, right now?”

  The argument Indy and I had right before I left storms into my mind. “A divorce.”

  Karas waves me off as he splashes two fingers into my empty tumbler. “Other than that.”

  “To play a grand prix in Prague, which is too fucking dangerous to consider after the shit that’s gone down.”

  He narrows his gaze on me. “Are you, or are you not, a fucking billionaire? You could buy the fucking Secret Service to keep her safe, so that’s a cop-out. If she wants to go to this thing, and it’s that important, you move heaven and fucking earth to give her that.”

  My jaw tight, I nod. “Go on.”

  Karas exhales a long breath as he fills his own glass. “You might be a lost cause, brother. I hate to say it, but I don’t think there’s a romantic bone in your body.”

  He pulls two cigars from his pocket and drops into the chair. He holds one out to me, and I take it.

  “Think for two seconds, of all the stops you could pull to make this the most incredible experience for her. How you could go above and beyond to shock her with your thoughtfulness, because that’s what you need to do—be fucking thoughtful. Listen. Think. Do one better. And sometimes . . . sometimes you might have to compromise or sacrifice things that mean something to you in order to show Indy that you’re sincere. Because if you’re not sincere in this whole fucking thing, what’s the point?”

  I roll the cigar in my hand while I mull over his words, thinking of all the things I could do that would fix what I’ve obviously fucked up.

  Clearly, my silence lasts too long for Karas’s short measure of patience.

  “Are you going to do this or not? I need to know what the fuck to tell Riscoff about the deal.” He pulls out his cutter and snips off the end of his cigar before handing the cutter to me. “We can always go looking at Chinese steel, or gut our profits completely to buy North American.”

  “Let me win back my wife first. Then we’ll worry about the deal.”

  Karas’s cigar tilts in his mouth as he grins. “Good fucking answer. Hopefully, she doesn’t kill you as soon as she sees you.”

  52

  India

  Seventeen phone calls later, there’s a boat on its way to get me. Forge must have told his employees that I’m a flight risk, because they’re all out patrolling the grounds and the pier, and Dorsey has latched onto me like a barnacle to one of her boss’s ships.

  “Are you sure you’re not hungry? You haven’t eaten anything today. I’d be happy to have a nice lunch whipped up for you.”

  Considering this is about the tenth time she’s made such an offer, my patience is waning.

  I turn and give her a polite smile. “Still not hungry.”

  The hopeful expression on her face crumples like she’s lost a battle. “Can we talk frankly for a moment, Mrs. Forge?” Dorsey swallows and threads her fingers together at her waist.

  “It’s Indy, please. And feel free to say whatever you need to say.”

  “Indy, have you ever had a job before that you couldn’t afford to lose?”

  I have no idea where she’s going with this, but I nod.

  “For me, this is that job. Working for Mr. Forge personally is a chance of a lifetime. He grooms all the people who move up the ladder in his company, and gives them amazing opportunities once they prove their loyalty and willingness to do whatever it takes to complete a job well.”

  I study the woman with her strained posture and flexing fingers. I know she’s making a point, but I’m also trying to keep my attention on the blue waters surrounding the island and the boat that should be arriving any minute to get me out of here.

  “Dorsey, what’s your point?” I ask as I focus beyond her, but she sidesteps so she’s directly in my line of sight.

  “If you leave this island before Mr. Forge returns, we all lose our jobs. Every single one of us.”

  I jerk my head back. “What?”

  Dorsey bites her lip before continuing to speak. “I’m not trying to guilt trip you into staying, but those were your husband’s orders. I don’t agree with keeping a person somewhere they don’t want to be, but if you could just not get on that boat I know you’re waiting for, I would be very grateful, as would every other woman and man on this island.”

  Emotion fills her eyes, and all that hope and pleading may as well be a sword shoved in my gut.

  “I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but please, before you leave, just . . . consider that more than your fate is in your hands.”

  She gives me a weak smile and turns to walk back into the house, leaving me standing with a duffel bag and my rescue in sight . . . but my conscience rears its ugly head.

  Fuck.

  The white center-console fishing boat approaches, and I have only a few minutes to make my decision. I heft the duffel bag on my shoulder and cross the pool deck toward the steps that lead down the cliffs. The steps that will take me far away from here and . . . cost every single person on this island their job.

  Damn you, Forge. This isn’t fair.

  I try to harden my heart. This isn’t about them. This is about me and my life.

  My phone vibrates with a text from Ruccio, the Italian wannabe professional poker player who had a boat and the time to come pick me up—in exchange for an hour of poker lessons so he can try to make the pro tour. Since he missed it six times already, I don’t think an hour of my time is going to do the trick, but it was the price I had to pay to get what I needed.

  “Please, before you leave, just . . . consider that more than your fate is in your hands.”

  D
ammit, Dorsey’s guilt trip was delivered much too effectively, because my feet stall.

  And that’s when I see the other boat. The black one. It looks like a shark cutting through the water like a knife, gaining on Ruccio’s boat so quickly that it might just beat him to the dock.

  Dorsey only said they’d lose their jobs if I left the island before Forge came back. If I leave after he arrives, then he can’t follow through on his threat.

  My feet come unstuck from the floor and I rush for the stairs. Something’s wrong with my eyes, though, because they burn, and it’s not from the wind whipping off the sea. No, they’re burning from the ridiculous urge to cry.

  Because my marriage, regardless of how fake it was, is over.

  And somehow, again, regardless of whether it mattered . . . that reality strikes deep into the heart of me. I failed at marriage. But it wasn’t real. It was never supposed to be real.

  It doesn’t matter. Forge doesn’t care about me. All he cares about is his precious business deal.

  It’s the harsh truth, and I accept it for what it is.

  I also make a promise to myself—I’m never getting married again. Ever. With that vow, I shore up that wall around my heart, mentally stacking the bricks and smearing a layer of concrete over the entire thing before adding sheets of Kevlar.

  My heart is off-limits.

  Goliath stands at the end of the dock. I wonder if he’s waiting for Forge or if they left the biggest guy on the island as the last line of defense to keep me here. I’m honestly not sure which, because he has his back to me as I walk down the pier toward him.

  Ruccio’s ginger hair blows in the wind, and his wide smile is in place when he catches sight of me. He waves, and I lift a hand in a weak imitation of excitement, because I can also see Forge.

  His dark features seem more forbidding than ever. There’s no question he knows exactly what I’m planning to do. The bow of his boat lifts slightly as he pushes it faster, the sleek black tender cutting through the water like it’s no opposition at all, and it noses ahead of Ruccio. The Italian doesn’t realize he’s racing, because he’s backing off the throttle as Forge hammers his down.

  I tighten my grip on the duffel bag and brace myself for the coming confrontation.

  53

  Forge

  I haven’t lost her yet.

  That’s the only thought on my mind as I engage every one of the 3700 horsepower that is harnessed in the massive engines of the Black Shiver. A Boston Whaler heads for the pier, where Indy’s blond hair whips around her shoulders, but I’m not going to let her leave without giving myself one last chance to fix this.

  They always say you don’t realize the value of what you have until you lose it, and before India Baptiste, I would have sworn I wasn’t the kind of man who could be accused of that. But I am. I’m not infallible. I’m as fucking human as it gets.

  I turn the boat, carving through the water, the steering wheel gripped tight in my palms. Come on. Come on.

  After Karas’s come-to-Jesus talk, I know he’s right. If I want a shot at making this marriage real, I have to change how I think and what I do.

  I’ve failed plenty of times in my life, but one thing I’ve never done is quit. I won’t let Indy walk away without a fight.

  I shoot past the Boston Whaler as I veer toward the dock, letting off the throttle at the very last second, and coast up to the pier. The rub-rail of the Shiver gently bounces off the padded pylons as it connects.

  Indy, dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a pink tank top, jerks her head from me to the Boston Whaler and then back to the Shiver. When the dark-haired woman rises from the passenger seat next to me and becomes visible for the first time, Indy’s eyes go wide.

  She sets her jaw and her blue gaze turns frosty. “I expected a lot of things from you, Forge, but I didn’t expect you to find a replacement that quickly.” Her tone is even more frigid than her eyes. She shakes her head, the duffel bag on her shoulder swinging with her movement. “It’s a good thing I was already planning on getting out of your way.”

  Goliath finishes tying up my tender, and I hop onto the dock as her escape vessel approaches.

  “No, that’s not what this is at all,” I say, my words coming out gruff.

  Indy looks away, her attention shifting to the captain of the other boat like she’s already dismissed my existence. “I don’t care what it is,” she replies, still giving me the side of her face instead of her eyes. “I’ll be gone in two minutes.”

  The boat coasts up to the dock, piloted by some ginger fuck.

  “Signorina! Your knight in shining armor is here!”

  He laughs, and my first instinct is to jump on board his boat and beat him within an inch of his life for daring to try to take what’s mine. But I know that’s not going to help the situation.

  Indy takes one step toward the other boat, and I move into her path.

  “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have tried to stop you.” It’s the most honest and sincere thing I can say, and the absolute truth.

  Her chin juts out in that stubborn way of hers, and her skeptical stare finally cuts to my face. “It doesn’t matter anymore. This whole thing was a terrible idea to begin with. I was desperate. I would’ve married anyone to save my sister. That’s on me. It doesn’t matter that I was only ever a means to an end for you. I’m doing what needs to be done. It’s time to end this farce.”

  She moves like she’s trying to step around me, and I move with her.

  I reach out to touch her but stop myself when she jumps back. My fingers flex in protest, but I know I earned her reaction, and I have to fucking fix this.

  “Give me one more fucking chance. Please.”

  Her head tilts down, but her blue eyes are rimmed with red.

  I hate that I fucking made her cry. I want to erase the lines on her brow that reveal the toll this has taken on her.

  “Why should I?” she whispers.

  “Because you’re not a means to an end anymore. You’re inside me. In my head. In the blood running through my fucking veins.” I clear my throat and take a small step toward her. “If you go, you take all that with you, along with my fucking sanity.”

  Her eyelids flutter and her chin trembles, and I pray that I’ve made my case. But Indy bites down on her lip as her gaze slides past me to the Shiver.

  “Who the hell is she?”

  I totally forgot about the woman I begged to come with me. I whip around to acknowledge her.

  “This is Sofia Russo. She’s here from Milan to outfit you with dresses for the grand prix in Prague. That is, if you’ll allow me to accompany you.”

  54

  India

  My gaze skips between Forge and Sofia Russo. As soon as he said her name, I recognized her.

  She’s not some hot young thing he brought to replace me in his bed before it was barely cold. She’s a ridiculously famous designer, and Summer’s always gone crazy over her dresses. She begged me to buy her one once, but even I couldn’t swallow the five-figure price tag for a dress. The biggest stars are always wearing her designs on the red carpet.

  And Forge brought her here with dresses for the grand prix.

  There has to be a catch. I step forward until we’re toe-to-toe.

  “What’s your angle, Forge? What the hell are you getting out of this?”

  Even as I ask the question, I know the answer won’t be the one I want to hear—that he’d do anything to keep me. That he’s wildly in love with me and doesn’t want to live without me. That he wants the kind of relationship Creighton and Holly have. A partnership. Something that will stand the test of time.

  That’s not us. We’re not in love.

  But as I think it, something pangs near my heart. Maybe that’s not the whole truth. I feel something for him too that I’ve never felt for anyone else.

  “You’re my angle,” he replies.

  His dark brows dive together and a V forms between them. His gray eyes rem
ind me of storm clouds rolling in over the sea.

  “I don’t want to be the man who only realizes what he had when it’s gone. And that doesn’t have a single fucking thing to do with any deal. I can buy steel from other people. It doesn’t have to be your father. If you never want to meet him or see him or speak to him, that’s your decision. All I want is a chance to make this right.”

  Forge pauses to take a breath, and my emotions are rioting as he speaks. But he’s not done. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles across my jaw, and my lips tremble.

  “I fucking care about you, Indy. Talk is cheap, but I’m not. I’m going to prove it to you. I want you to shine, and I’m going to do everything I can to make it happen. That’s my angle.”

  My heart thunders, but I force myself to breathe calmly, even as his words chip away at the layers of concrete and Kevlar around my heart. Even as I tell myself not to believe him because he’s cagey and withholds the truth. But the rough edge of his tone screams sincerity.

  He’s not bluffing.

  “Indy?” This time it’s Ruccio speaking my name.

  I look over at the redhead. “Sorry. I’m just . . .”

  “Ah, bella.” Ruccio smiles. “You’re just listening to a man all but profess his love in a way that makes me wish he was talking to me instead.”

  One arm raised, I thread my fingers through my wind-whipped hair, not sure what the hell to do. I feel like I’m standing in a Robert Frost poem, but instead of two roads diverging in the woods, I’ve got two boats parked at a dock.

  If I get in one, I know I’ll be losing something I may never have a chance to get back. But if I choose to stay and believe what Forge says is true, I’m putting my heart at risk, and I know better than to bet more than I can afford to lose.