Heart of the Devil

by Meghan March

  But he let me go . . . to be honorable. Because he didn’t let me choose. He forced my hand. And then he let me go, even though . . . he might have been falling in love with me.

  Maybe we didn’t start out the right way, but that doesn’t matter to me anymore. All that matters is what happens now.

  “See, I’m right,” my sister says when I don’t reply. She’s completely unaware of the epiphany I’m having.

  “I’m sorry, Summer. Truly. Completely. What can I do to fix this for you?”

  “You can’t.” She lifts her chin, her lips wobbling as she holds back a sob. “But Forge could. Juliette would listen to him if he told her not to blackball me.”

  “If that’s what you want, that’s what will happen.”

  Summer’s platinum-blond brows wing up. “How? You said he threw you out. It’s already over, Indy. God, Juliette loved rubbing it in my face.”

  “It’s not over. Not until I say it’s over.” I straighten my shoulders and shore up my emotions. “I’ll marry Jericho again tomorrow if I have to. But first, I have to find him and explain to him exactly why he doesn’t get to make decisions about our future without involving me.”

  Summer steps back on a wobbling heel. “Whoa. Really?”

  “Yes. Really. And so what if you got fired? Start your own damn fashion label. Make what you want. Fuck everyone else. That’s how we work in this family, Summer.”

  My sister’s anger drains away to be replaced by an expression of open-mouthed wonderment. “Really?”

  “If that’s what you want. I’ll be your investor. But you have to promise me you’ll take it seriously.”

  Summer’s big blue eyes shine with glee instead of tears. “I will. I swear. I really will. Juliette doesn’t know it, but I studied everything she did—and I can do it better. I just need a splashy way to enter the market. Something daring and incredible.”

  “We’ll come up with something,” I tell her. “Start working on your business plan. I have calls to make.”

  Leaving my sister inside with a bracing cup of tea, I step out onto the balcony with my phone and make a call to one person who might actually be able to help me.

  “Indy? Is that you?” Holly answers the phone on the second ring.

  “Thank you so much for taking my call. I know you’re busy.” I stare out at the birds swooping across the blue sky and sit on a cushioned chaise.

  “Anytime. I told you, we’re friends. What can I do for you?” The background noise, people yelling and instruments playing, fades away.

  “I didn’t have Creighton’s number, but I need some information, and I was hoping you could help me.”

  “He’s backstage with me, actually. What do you need to know?”

  “That deal with my father. Did it go through?”

  “You’re going to want to talk to him. Hold on a sec.”

  Her voice grows faint as she explains who is on the phone before she hands off the call.

  “India, it’s Creighton Karas.”

  “I need some information. Really, I just need to know about the deal with my father and what’s happening.”

  There’s a silence on the line before he answers. “The deal is off.”

  His clipped tone tells me there’s a hell of a lot more to it, but a tendril of hope rises up from the cracks in my soul.

  “Really? Why? What happened?” I ask as I rise from the chaise to pace my small balcony.

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Creighton. Please. I saw my father in Monte Carlo. He said he made the ultimatum that he would only close the deal if Forge agreed to give me up forever.”

  “Goddamned Russian. I knew there was something going on that didn’t make sense. Forge wouldn’t sign off, even when your father agreed to revert to the original agreement and drop the clause about giving him—and eventually you—a share in the new company.”

  He wouldn’t agree to give me up. That tendril of hope blooms inside me like a field of sunflowers reaching for the sky. He does care. There’s hope still.

  “I’m sorry, Creighton. I really am. Kind of. I need to find my husband.” I squeeze one hand into a fist as I wait for him to give me the information I need.

  “Indy . . . I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure you’re not married anymore.”

  “I’ve heard,” I tell him as the sun warms my face. I’m not even upset about being divorced now. Not when Jericho refused to say he’d give me up forever. “Which is why I need to find him.”

  Creighton is quiet for a few moments, and when he speaks, his tone is contemplative. “I wish he would’ve told me what was going on. We could’ve found a way to make this work. Riscoff might never speak to Forge again after this stunt, and our friendship took a huge hit.”

  “I think I might be able to fix things.”

  “What can I do to help?” Creighton asks, and I want to hug him.

  “Do you know where Jericho is?”

  “No idea. The last time I talked to him, the connection was shit and he was calling from a sat phone, so I’m assuming out to sea on one of his cargo ships. If I were you, I’d ask his employees. They’re going to have a better idea.”

  “Okay. I can work with that. I’ll be in touch. Thanks, Creighton.”

  “Good luck, Indy. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re fighting for him. I don’t think anyone ever has.”

  When I end the call, I know exactly what I’m going to do next.

  Jericho Forge doesn’t have a single clue what it’s like to be the center of someone’s world. He’s about to find out.

  But first . . . I have to lure him back to Isla del Cielo.

  34

  Forge

  “What the fuck do you mean, she’s on the island?”

  “Sir, we didn’t know what to do. Smith and Sanderson are here with her. Do you want me to have them remove her?” Dorsey asks.

  The one damn time I leave my phone in my cabin, all hell breaks loose, in the form of India showing up on Isla del Cielo, unannounced.

  I jam a hand into my hair, shifting my weight to steady myself as the ocean rages around us. The Atlantic’s got nothing on the emotions boiling over inside me.

  “What is she trying to accomplish with this?” I ask myself the question more than Dorsey.

  “She told Smith and Sanderson she wanted to check on Goliath. That’s why they agreed to bring her out. But she brought a bag, sir, and she put it in a guest room like she plans on staying here.”

  Her actions make no sense. What the hell is going through Indy’s mind?

  “Sir?” Dorsey asks. “Do you want me to remove her?”

  I think of the deal I killed because I refused to promise Federov I would never go near India again. The ruthless businessman I’ve always been would have had no problem making that vow because the potential profit should have eclipsed every other consideration.

  But for the first time in my life, something was more important than closing a deal. Someone. When I pictured living the rest of my life without seeing or touching India Baptiste, it stretched out before me like a wasteland. No meaning. No purpose. Just yawning emptiness.

  In my whole life, she’s the one thing I want more than the satisfaction of winning.

  I told Federov to shove his ultimatum up his ass. I would never agree to his terms, and the deal could go to hell.

  It was the right choice. The only choice.

  And now Indy’s in my home. Making herself at home.

  Hope, something I’ve never let into my life before, weaves its way into my soul. The same way Indy did.

  “No. Don’t make her leave. Watch her, though. Find out what she wants.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Dorsey?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t tell her you called me.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  As soon as I end the call, I head out to the deck to suck in fresh air and stare up at the sky above me. The sal
t spray in the air clings to my face as I thank whoever’s listening for giving me a second chance.

  My next message goes to the helicopter pilot with our current coordinates.

  * * *

  Forge: Get me off the boat as fast as fucking possible.

  * * *

  The Fortuna, one of Isaac’s first cargo ships, used to be the place I felt most at home. The only place I could find any comfort, because I could feel Isaac’s presence here more than anywhere else in the world.

  But not anymore. I have a life to get back to . . . and a woman to claim as my own. Come hell or high water, if she’ll have me, I’m never giving her up again.

  India . . . I hope you’re ready, because everything I am, and everything I have, is yours. Including my heart.

  35

  India

  The staff gape at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I feel like I’ve finally found it. I know what matters, and I know what I truly want. For my entire life, I’ve been fiercely loyal to my family, or at least the family I knew. Since Isaac’s death, Forge hasn’t had a single person who wasn’t on his payroll to care about him.

  Whatever it takes, that ends now.

  I’m setting up for a game on the poker table I had delivered from La Reina, a favor I called in from Jean Phillippe. To his credit, he didn’t ask many questions.

  “Ms. Baptiste . . .” Dorsey has been hovering around me like she’s afraid I’m on the scary end of a mental break and is waiting for me to snap at any moment.

  Her concern is misplaced. I’m not losing my mind . . . I’ve finally found it.

  “Indy. I told you to call me Indy.”

  She clears her throat. “Okay. Indy, do you really think this is a good idea?”

  I straighten the final stack of chips and stand back to inspect my handiwork before I turn to answer her. She’s dressed in the same uniform of white slacks and navy polo with the stylized F on the breast as she usually wears.

  “What’s your first name, Dorsey?”

  The woman blinks, looking shocked that I would ask such a question. “Darcy.”

  “Darcy Dorsey? Really?”

  Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip before she answers. “I wasn’t always a Dorsey. It was my stepfather’s name. I took it when he adopted me in hopes that he wouldn’t knock me around as much if he thought of me as his kid.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, wishing I hadn’t brought up the subject.

  “It’s over and done with. Not important anymore.” But her tone says that’s not true.

  “It is important. Old hurts . . . they stick with us. I’m going to get real for a second with you. I make a lot of mistakes. I’m rash. Impulsive. Overconfident one minute and terrified the next. I learned to survive because I had to. I fuck things up as often as I get them right. But I know when to admit I’m wrong, and I should never have signed those divorce papers. I love Jericho Forge, and I’m not giving up on him.”

  Her lips, devoid of any gloss or color, press together. “I understand what you’re saying, but Jericho Forge isn’t a man who can be swayed to do something he doesn’t want to do. I like you, Indy. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up that this is going to work out. Once he’s made up his mind, he doesn’t change it.”

  Hearing something so grave from his employee’s lips doesn’t help my confidence, but it doesn’t lessen my resolve either. I knew the odds would be stacked against me, and I can handle it. Nothing worth having ever comes easily.

  “I’m willing to take my chances. Will you help me?”

  Dorsey peers off into the distance as she considers my request. Then her gaze swings back to me. “What do you need me to do?”

  36

  Forge

  When I climb the steps of the cliff face, the sky is dark from the raging storm. The ride in on the chopper was rough, and we were forced to land at the airport rather than on Isla del Cielo. The rain beat down on me the entire boat ride out here, but nothing short of the apocalypse could keep me away.

  Dorsey called to warn me that Indy planned a massive poker game to take place on my island. I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking, but it’s not happening without me.

  When I tied up the tender at the dock, it was empty but for the other runabout we use for errands. If there’s supposed to be a giant game, where the fuck is everyone?

  Did they all get ferried out and dropped off? Or did the weather keep them away?

  I hurry up the stairs, and when I reach the top of the cliff, the house is lit up like it’s welcoming me home. And it was home, until I threw Indy out.

  What is going through that brilliant mind of hers?

  I slip inside quietly, my hair hanging wet against my face from charging the boat through the rising waves. Instead of hearing laughter and the chatter of guests in my house, I find it completely silent.

  Did Dorsey lie to me? What the hell is going on?

  I stride into the living room, and there’s a poker table set up where a table with a bronze Henry Moore sculpture used to sit. Two chairs sit on either side of it, and they’re both empty.

  What the fuck?

  Is this an intimate game for two? Who the hell is she playing? Jealousy crashes through me like a tsunami. I have no right to be jealous. I gave her up. I tore us apart.

  But she came to me. To my house. That has to mean something.

  “I wondered how long you’d keep me waiting, Jericho.”

  My head swivels toward Indy’s voice. She leans a shoulder against the archway to the kitchen. She stands casually, like she’s not every man’s fantasy come to life in that gold dress she tossed in my face that first night at La Reina.

  Goddammit. She looks fucking beautiful. Her cheekbones are sharper than they were before, and her curves aren’t as voluptuous.

  Was she not eating? Why didn’t they tell me? Why didn’t her mom and sister make sure she was taking care of herself?

  “Nothing to say?”

  I tear my gaze off the details I’m memorizing. Why the fuck did I listen to her father? Why did I give a shit about honor?

  My hands flex, needing to touch her. Being so close to her and not being able to pull her against me is fucking torture.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice comes out low and harsh. I sound like a man dying for his last glimpse at the woman he could have had but gave up . . . in an attempt to be noble.

  “I liked your island. It felt like home. At least, it did until I came back and you weren’t here.”

  The knot in my chest that’s been strangling me for weeks loosens a fraction. Why is she here? What is her plan? I glance at the poker table, with cards in the center and chips stacked in front of both chairs.

  “So you came back and decided to redecorate?” My question is cautious, because I’m not sure how this is going to go down.

  A secretive smile stretches over her ruby-slicked lips. Lips I’d cut off my right fucking arm to be able to kiss again.

  She pushes off the archway and strides toward the table, and my nails dig into my palms when I get a good, long look at her legs. Fuck, but I missed those legs.

  Who am I kidding? There’s not a single fucking piece of her mind, body, or soul I haven’t missed.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but they’re calling me the best poker player in Europe . . . but I don’t feel like I truly claim the title yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Indy stops on the other side of the table, behind the chair. “Because you beat me, and I want a rematch. That’s the only way I’ll know I’m the best.”

  The hope growing inside me disappears like a ship in the fog. “That’s what this is about? You went through all this trouble . . . to prove you’re the best?”

  Her smile turns predatory as she grips the wooden back of the chair. “Also because it’ll be financially beneficial to me.”

  Indy throws my own words at me, and I stare at her as my brain races. This isn’t about a poker
game. This is about us.

  “Financially beneficial. Sounds familiar.”

  “So, what do you say? Will you play me?” The question carries a wealth of challenge.

  I walk around the table, past the seat I assume is mine, and she releases her grip on hers as I close the distance between us. I grasp the back of her chair and pull it out, leaning forward to inhale her scent. Citrus and sun and sea. It makes me go hard as a rock as I meet her gaze.

  “I’ll accept any challenge you throw at me, India. If you want to play, we play.”

  37

  India

  When he stops beside me, I almost lose my composure.

  There’s nothing I want to do more than throw myself at him and tell him I don’t give a fuck about titles or games or anything but him, but I can’t. I have a plan, and I’m going to follow it.

  Coyly, I look up at Jericho, my ex-husband, from under my lashes. “Thank you. You’re the gentleman tonight.”

  He breathes in deeply, like a predator would scent its prey, as I lower myself into my seat and he pushes it in.

  “I guess we’ll see if you’re right or wrong about that,” Jericho says as he backs away. “I’m definitely underdressed for this game.” He motions to his work pants, boots, and rain jacket, and then to my dress.

  “I don’t mind, if you don’t.”

  For the first time, I’m seeing the man beneath all the expensive clothes and veneer of sophistication. Jericho Forge ruthlessly carved out a place for himself in the world, and he didn’t do it wearing custom-made suits and expensive watches. However, he never showed that side to me, and I love seeing it.

  “Fair enough.” He pulls out his own chair and sits down, glancing at the chips in front of him.