Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(22)

“We can’t be married.” His declaration echoes in the room, and there’s no mistaking his words.

Searing-hot rage rises from the very depths of my soul.

I snatch the petition off the desk. “So you’re just going to shove this at me like I’m nothing? Like we’re nothing? What the fuck is going on, Jericho?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in the chair, like I’m not shattering into a million pieces in front of him. “You wanted a divorce. I’m giving you what you want.”

I throw the papers at his face. “Well, I don’t want it anymore!”

Part of me expects him to rush around the desk and wrap me in his arms and pick me up . . . but he doesn’t. Because he doesn’t love me. Tears burn my eyes as he rises from his seat, plants both palms on the desk, and deals the death blow.

“Too bad, because I do.”

I rear back, like he punched me in the gut. I never knew words could cause such intense physical pain, but his shred my damn soul.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats.

“Why?” I whisper the question like it’s torn from my dying breath.

“Because this never should’ve happened to begin with. None of it.”

“This was all you!” I scream. My rage takes on a life of its own as I slam my fist on the desk. “You did this! You manipulated and coerced me into marrying you! And now you just decide you’re done? What the fuck, Jericho?”

I heave in a breath and stare at him, but my words have no impact. He’s an impenetrable wall.

“Sign the papers, Indy.”

Oh no. He did not just fucking use my name like I mean something to him.

“Don’t you dare say my name. We are not friends!” I shove the chair next to me across the room.

Jericho pushes off the desk and stares down at me. “You’re right. We’re not. So sign it, and we can both move on with our lives.”

Another killing blow. Tears stream down my face and I lash out, wanting him to feel the same pain ripping me apart.

“You draw me in and then push me away, because you can’t handle getting close to anyone. All you want is your fucking business and your money and your revenge, and you don’t have room for anything else in your goddamned life.”

It’s like watching a volcano erupt. His expression morphs from stoic to enraged in the space of a heartbeat.

“Did it ever fucking occur to you that I’m doing this to keep you safe? And if it weren’t for my fucking revenge, none of this would’ve ever happened? Bastien would never have come after you! Bates and Donnigan and Koba would be alive, and you wouldn’t have been fucking terrorized!”

I stumble back a step. “If you gave a single fuck about me, you wouldn’t do this.”

His lips flatten into a hard line. “It’s over, India. Sign the fucking papers. Take your money and get out.”

I stumble back, my body trembling so hard that my teeth chatter. How could he do this to me? I love him.

I shove the feeling down. How could I love someone who could do this to me?

“Fuck you, Forge.” My voice shakes as hard as my hands. “Fuck you. I hate you. You want your divorce so fucking bad, to be rid of me?”

I grab sheet after sheet of paper off the desk like a woman possessed, trying to find the one piece that needs my signature. I spot it and grab it, not caring that the paper crumples in my hand. I snatch the pen off the desk and scrawl my signature as the shattered pieces of my heart are ground into dust.

“Here you go. You can fucking have it. And this too.”

I rip my ring off my finger and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest and pings when it hits the floor. As I back away, I expect to leave a trail of blood from the destruction he has caused.

But he doesn’t seem to care that I’m broken. Jericho watches me with his stony gaze as I reach behind me for the door handle.

Tears blur my vision as I grip the knob.

“You can have your fucking divorce, Forge. But you should know—I didn’t want this. I wanted you. Only you. Fuck the money. I don’t want a goddamned thing from you ever again. I can take care of myself. Always have. Always will. So, fuck you.”

His mouth opens, but I’m not waiting to hear another goddamned word.

I rip the door open and charge out, slamming it behind me. Blind from the onslaught of tears, I almost collide with Dorsey and her armful of towels.

“Mrs. Forge?”

“Don’t call me that ever again,” I bite out, swiping at my face. I don’t want to cry another tear for him, but I can’t stop.

The steward’s face goes pale, and as sorry as I should be for taking this out on her, I can’t apologize. I’m going to pass out or throw up or both.

“Can I . . . can I help you, Indy?”

Another sob tears free from my lips. “Get me off this fucking island. I’m going home.”





18





India





With every step away from the villa, a stupid, naive part of me hopes he’ll rush outside, chase me down, and say this was all a huge mistake. That he can’t bear the thought of letting me go. That he loves me.

Right. That’ll never happen.

Forge doesn’t need me. He doesn’t need anyone. The glimpse of the man I saw behind the granite wall was a mirage. He doesn’t exist.