Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(44)

“He had his reasons,” I tell her. “But it’ll never happen again.”

“Why didn’t you close the deal you were making with him? I know he offered you what you wanted.”

From inside the house, the whap-whap-whap of the rotors grows louder as the chopper approaches the island.

“Then you also know why I couldn’t close it. I couldn’t give him the promise he wanted in return.”

“To give me up forever.” Indy’s pained gaze locks onto mine.

“I could never agree to that.” I thread my fingers through hers on the counter. “Not for all the money in the world.”

“Even if your partners were pissed the deal fell through?”

“They’ll live. Nothing is more important than you.”

A hint of mischief winks in her blue eyes as she presses her lips to mine. “I think we can have it all, and that’s exactly what I’m going to tell my father.”





44





India





I’ve never been a businesswoman. A gambler, yes. But a legitimate businesswoman? Not exactly. I’m still about to facilitate a business deal, though, because it’s time.

Federov may never have the daughter he wants at home in Russia, but I’m hoping we can find a way to have a relationship, and for Jericho and his partners to get what they need from him.

Jericho goes outside to meet the chopper, and a few minutes later, he leads my father inside. Kostya waits just beyond the door. The older man’s face creases in surprise, his eyebrows going up, when he sees me sitting in the kitchen.

“You . . . you’re here. With him. How?”

I walk toward him. “You told me what I needed to know. I made my decision.”

My father glances from me to Jericho. There’s no mistaking that we’re having a cozy meal for two.

“Then my presence is de trop, I assume,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“I wanted to tell Forge that I was wrong to interfere. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was an old man protecting his daughter, and after many years of being denied such a privilege, I may have been overzealous in my approach.”

“No,” Jericho says, surprising me. “You weren’t. Things needed to be said.”

“That is good you agree,” my father says.

“But if you ever try to meddle again, all bets are off,” I tell him.

My father gives me a look of respect. “Point taken.”

“One more thing,” I say. “You’re signing the deal. Original terms. No more bullshit. I won’t be used as a pawn in anyone’s game ever again.”

Jericho turns to stare at me in surprise, but my father just smiles. “Fine. Bring the contract. But I do have one condition.” He pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket.

I tilt my head to the left. “And what’s that?”

“I do want to be part of your life, Ill—India. For what little time I have left.”

I blink. “What . . . what do you mean?”

“I’m ill. The doctors say I do not have many months to live.”

“I . . . I didn’t know. I’m . . . sorry.” My words come out stilted.

He’s dying? How is that possible? Why didn’t he tell me before? His ruddy face shows signs of hard living, but nothing of the gaunt paleness I would associate with being terminally ill. I just found out I have a father, and now I’m going to lose him.

“There is no need to be sorry. I have lived a long life, and my final wish has been granted.” He walks toward me and takes my hand. “All I wanted was to tell you that you have always been loved, whether you were with me or not.”

I squeeze his much larger hand with both of mine. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I am very proud of the woman you have become, even if I did not have a hand in it.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as he lifts my hand to press a kiss to the back. “Your mother would be proud as well. Now, let us get the contract signed, and we shall toast the beginning of a new venture. One that, hopefully, my grandchildren will oversee someday.”

My gaze collides with Jericho’s, and he smiles. “I can toast to that.”





45





Forge





Riscoff and Karas sign off on the agreement as soon as I tell them the deal’s back on. Indy, her father, and I sit out near the deck of the pool. As he tells her about his home in Russia, Dorsey refreshes our coffee.

“I would like you to see it someday. After all, it will all be yours,” Federov says. When I shoot him a sharp look, not wanting him to pressure her, he adds, “But it will be managed easily until you decide it is time. I have a board of directors who have the power to oversee everything, and all profits flow into a trust for you if they are not reinvested in the company.”

Indy looks a little overwhelmed, but she’s rolling with it. “I don’t know anything about steel, or . . . what else do you do?”

The older man laughs, and it’s still hard to believe he’s dying. He looks healthier than most men his age. Before I can think further on that, a boat catches my attention as it roars toward the dock.