Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(20)

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Jesus, great way to make brunch super awkward right out of the gate, brother dearest.” Summer’s tone is heavy on the sarcasm.

“Summer!” Alanna’s tone is sharp with worry. “You told me you were working as an intern at fashion shows.”

My sister tosses her blond hair over her shoulder in one of her signature defensive moves. “It’s not like Indy didn’t break every goddamned rule in the world to get into poker games when she was first starting out.”

I raise my finger, but Forge speaks first.

“This isn’t about Indy. She can do whatever the hell she wants. This is about you, pretending to be someone you’re not, and putting yourself in situations that make your mother and sister worry. You won’t be doing that again, will you, Summer?” Forge faces my sister, and not a single hint of his rigid posture invites argument.

Summer pops her hip and drops a hand on it. “Indy, are you seriously going to let him talk to me like that?”

I pretend to consider it for a moment before nodding like a bobblehead doll. “Yep, sure am. He’s right. You fucked up. And what’s more—you were pretending to be me when you cheated and got caught. Did you even think for one second how that would reflect on my reputation that you were trading on to get into the game?”

Summer’s head jerks back. “What the hell are you talking about? I never cheated! And if I had, I sure wouldn’t have gotten caught, because you taught me better than that. I didn’t even get to play the game!”

A shroud of silence settles over all of us as we process Summer’s admission.

My pulse beats in my ears as I realize they played me.

“They lied,” I whisper. “The kidnappers . . . they lied to me.”

I don’t know why I’m so shocked. It’s not like kidnappers are beacons of truth and honesty, but that changes everything. Especially because Bastien claimed the kidnapping was a setup and that Forge was behind it.

I turn and look at Forge, who’s also staring at Summer with surprise lining his features. “Did you know . . .”

His lips flatten into a hard line. “We’ll discuss this later.” He glances at Summer. “You need to write down everything you remember from the moment you found out about the game you tried to play until the second you set foot in my chopper. Understood?”

She nods, her lighter blue eyes finally showing fear. My resilient, ballsy sister might have just given us a lead to help find out what the hell is really going on here. If Forge didn’t set up the kidnapping . . . that means Bastien had to have been involved.

I’m going to find out every damn thing, and then I’m going to strangle him with my own bare hands.

“So, how about we have some brunch?” I say, forcing cheerfulness into my tone.





18





Forge





“Enter,” I call when someone knocks on the door to my office a few hours later.

The wooden panel swings open and Indy strides in, her hips swaying in a short green sundress that looks like it’s meant to be casual, but on her, it emphasizes every curve of her body. She’s wearing a pair of Adidas sneakers as well, which makes me assume her sister brought her clothes this morning. Part of me is annoyed because I would have happily kept her naked or wearing my clothes for as long as possible before I broke down and had something sent for her.

Yep. I’m fucked.

“We neglected a very important piece of our conversation earlier,” Indy says. She sounds part sharp and partly mocking.

Actually, that may just be the special tone that she reserves for me. I must be fucked in the head, because it makes my dick hard.

“And what piece was that?” I ask, affecting boredom as I lean back in my chair and cross an ankle over my knee.

“I’m going to need an advance on that hundred seventy-five mil you owe me.” She lifts her chin as if daring me to question her.

Which is exactly what I’m going to do.

I sit up. “What the hell for? You have a credit card. What else could you need?”

Indy crosses to my desk and plops into the chair across from it. She leans back, kicking her white sneakers up on the edge as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“You really think I’m just going to sponge off you for the next month? Sorry, Forge. That’s not how I’m built. I work for my money. Always have, always will. Being married to you isn’t going to change a damn thing about that.”

Ah. Now I know what she wants.

“You’re asking if I’ll allow you to sit a game?”

A myriad of emotions cross her face, and it’s not until the rage turns into a burst of laughter that I realize I’ve miscalculated with my words.

“Asking if you’ll allow me? That’s cute, Forge. Real cute. I don’t know how your arrangements with your women worked in the past, but I’m going to lay out how things are going to work between us.”

Her attitude doesn’t help deflate my dick. As a matter of fact, all it does is make me want to bend her over my desk and fuck the sass right out of her.

“Is that right?”

She slides her feet off my desk and repositions herself to lean forward and plant both elbows on the antique wood. “I’m going to live my life and you’re going to live yours. You don’t bother me; I won’t bother you.”