Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(11)

“I can’t believe you’d even consider going with him. What a fucking joke,” Bastien says, sounding like a spoiled little boy who lost a game he thought was fixed. “I didn’t lie to you, Indy. That’s all he’ll do. He’ll never tell you a fucking bit of the truth. You’re his pawn, not his wife.”

Forge’s arms tighten around me. “Don’t you fucking speak to her.”

Forge barks out the command, and even though I know I should be asking for answers to all the questions Bastien raised, I don’t care right now.

I want to be angry, but I can’t summon the emotion when I’m pressed against the silky material of Forge’s suit, breathing in the sandalwood and fresh man scent. His fingertips brush my arm over and over, soothing me, and I soak up the sensation. I wish he could trail his fingertips all over me and not just that small patch of skin.

It’s the drugs. I’ve taken party drugs before, so I know what’s happening, and I also know there’s nothing I can do but ride it out and maybe even enjoy it.

Stupid, Indy.

The critical voice in my head tells me I’m an idiot, and it’s probably right. But my brain just dumped every bit of my serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine into my system, and every sensation feels amazing. It’s been years since I’ve felt this incredible.

I nuzzle his neck, wanting to get another hint of the scent coming off his skin. One of my hands reaches up to comb through the too-long ends of his black hair. Ooh, smooth and silky. I curl the locks around my fingers, and he lets me.

He’s so warm and strong and cuddly. At least, right now he is. No doubt, as soon as the drug wears off in a few hours, my entire world will come crashing to a halt, and Forge will once again be a prickly beast. Maybe it makes me a coward or a moron, but I’d rather enjoy this hazy, happy feeling rather than hurry up the inevitable return of cold reality.

I also don’t want to be anywhere near Bastien when I come down, because I’ll want to kill him. The next wave of sensation hits me, and my head and fingers drop against Forge’s shoulder.

“I need to lay down.”

His breath caresses my cheek as he replies. “We’re leaving now.” His lips brush the shell of my ear as his head lifts and he speaks to Bastien.

“Goliath will make sure you don’t follow us. Your friend who was driving the red Lambo will be on the roof if you’re looking for him.”





10





Forge





I’ve never carried cargo so precious or been so fucking worried about another person as I make my way into the villa and head straight for my bedroom. Every minute of the short flight to Isla del Cielo, I kept Indy close to me, brushing my hand over her forehead to check her temperature in between giving her sips of water.

Over the years, I’ve seen plenty of people in her state, and not once has a single one of them had any adverse complications. However, just to be certain, and because of the knot on her head, Donnigan contacted my private physician. He told us to watch her, try not to cause her any distress, and he could be out within thirty minutes if we needed him.

Indy’s not showing any signs to cause concern, but I’m not about to take chances or spend a minute not watching her like I have her under a microscope.

“Are you too warm?” I ask her as I lay her on the bed and press the button on the remote to automatically close all the shades to shield her eyes.

“A little,” Indy replies as she rolls over onto her back and snags the hem of her shirt to pull it up over her head. Thankfully, she’s still wearing the bikini she bought in Saint-Tropez beneath it. Then she wriggles out of her skirt, and I untangle it from between her feet.

“Better?”

“I want a shower. That would feel so good.”

Her eyes are closed and her tone is languid. Because I have every interest in keeping her body temperature within safe ranges, I agree with her suggestion.

“You can open your eyes now. It’s dark enough. I’ll get the shower running.”

I rise to step away, but she reaches out and grasps my wrist. I look down into her big black pupils and faintly see the slivers of blue around them.

“I’m okay, Forge.” Her features take on a serious cast. “You don’t have to take care of me. I’m not going to die and screw up your plans. Don’t be nice to me if you’re just trying to cover your own ass. I don’t trust you either.”

Her honesty, whether a side effect of the drug or not, is like an elbow to the gut, and I wish I didn’t deserve the disdain her words convey.

“India, I have things I have to tell you,” I say, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t fuck up my roll, Forge. It might not have been my choice, but I’m going to enjoy this before I have to face reality.”





11





India





Forge’s lips press together, and he nods before walking toward the wide doorway that must lead to the en-suite bathroom. As soon as I hear water, a rush of power sweeps over me.

I gave Forge an order, and he followed it.

The entire way home, he watched me like a hawk, lines forming in the tanned skin around his eyes.

Either Forge feels something for me whether he wants to or not . . . or Bastien’s right, and Forge is just protecting his asset because he needs me. I don’t know which it is, but I don’t want to be any man’s pawn.