Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(24)

“Mr. Belevich, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The Russian I played against the night I lost to Forge eyes me. “Ms. Baptiste. I do hope your luck has not yet returned.”

I keep my well-practiced fake smile in place. “I suppose we’ll see, sir.”

“Like you’d have a chance to beat her on even her worst day, Belevich.”

I freeze at the mocking words coming from behind me. Bastien. I turn toward him slowly, denying the urge to touch the knot on my head from his stupid boat.

What the fuck? He has a black eye and his shoulders aren’t quite square, like he’s nursing some kind of injury I can’t see.

“What the hell happened to you?” I ask.

“I ran into a door,” Bastien deadpans.

Was Forge the door? No. He couldn’t have been. Goliath, maybe? He was only a minute behind us when we climbed into the chopper, or so I thought.

“You should be more careful,” I tell him, and we both know I mean he should stay the hell away from me.

One corner of his mouth curls. “Maybe you should take your own advice.” He glances behind me. “But then again, I suppose your bodyguards take care of any doors in your path.”

Okay, now this conversation is turning cryptic, and I don’t have time for distractions. Focus on the game, Indy.

“I didn’t expect to see you playing tonight,” I say carefully, my tone measured and even.

“I’m not playing. I’m just here for the entertainment,” he says with his trademark smug smile, and I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’m missing.

Something about this feels . . . off.

“Enjoy the entertainment, then.” Wanting to put as much space between Bastien and me as possible, I turn back to Gallardo and ask for an introduction to another player I’ve not yet met.

“Of course, Ms. Baptiste, I’d be happy to introduce you to—”

“It’s Mrs. Forge now, Gallardo,” Bastien says, interrupting. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally offend your favorite billionaire by calling his wife by the wrong name, would you?”

Gallardo’s dark eyebrows shoot up to his receding hairline at the announcement. “Mr. Jericho Forge?”

Fucking Bastien. Of course he had to go there.

“Yes, Forge took a wife. Shocking, isn’t it?” Bastien grins broadly, and I hope it strains his black eye, because now Belevich is staring at me intently as well.

Fabulous. Just fabulous.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Forge. I’ll have the server fetch a bottle of champagne so we can toast your nuptials,” Gallardo says, and I smile sweetly at him.

“Actually, I’m ready to play.” I gesture to the table. “Gentlemen, shall we?”

We select chairs, but before I take mine, Bastien stops at my side. Batman takes a step toward me from across the room, but I hold up a finger to halt his movement.

I face Bastien. “If I were you, I’d stay far, far away from me.”

“Good luck, Indy,” he says with an enigmatic expression. “You’re going to need it. And I’m not talking about the game.”





24





Forge





From the way Federov goes through the contract, line by line, scratching things out and scribbling in the margins, you’d think he’s never seen it before in his life, which isn’t the case. Page after page, he slides them across my desk, each one changed in some way.

I read over the revisions and make a list of counterproposals on the notepad beside me. I haven’t done business like this in years, maybe ever. But sometimes, when you reach that upper echelon, billionaires do things the old-fashioned way.

Hell, if I’d turned India over to Federov, there’s a hell of a good chance that he would have agreed to my deal with just a handshake and nothing else. His irritation and the number of changes he’s making are in direct proportion to his anger at being thwarted from seeing his daughter tonight.

When he reaches the end, he pushes the final piece of paper across my desk. “When you agree to all of those changes, then I will consider signing your deal.”

I scan the remaining sheet for his objections before adding it to the stack. “You realize you’ve completely reversed several of your positions that we negotiated previously.”

Federov leans back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest, reminding me enough of his daughter to be uncanny. “Because we made a deal and then you changed things. I will not let you manipulate me, Forge.”

I rest my elbows on the arms of my chair and lace my fingers together in my lap. “Sir, under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t hesitate to manipulate you in every possible way to achieve my aims.”

The Russian’s stare intensifies, and I’m lucky he left his bodyguards outside the room. “Why would you tell me this?”

“Because this is a completely different situation than I normally find myself in, and I’m trying not to manipulate either of you more than necessary. In fact, your daughter doesn’t want to know anything about you. As far as she’s concerned, you don’t exist, which is exactly what she was raised believing.”

Federov’s nostrils flare as he jerks forward and slaps a hand on my desk. “This is not my fault!”