Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(28)

“Ah, Mrs. Forge. Indy,” he says, his patronizing tone grating on me. “You assume too much. Rumors spread quickly in our crowd.”

I grit my teeth, knowing I won’t get a straight answer out of him tonight. “If you had something to do with any of this, be aware—I will find out and I will make you pay.”

“You have a temper that would make your father very proud,” he says as he raises the glass to his lips. “As long as he did not catch the sharp side of your tongue.”

The statement catches me off guard, and I don’t have time to school my reaction. Instead, I blurt, “You know my father?”

“Everybody knows Grigory Federov,” Belevich says over his vodka.

Grigory Federov. I repeat the name silently before meeting Belevich’s gaze again. “How long have you known who I am?”

He purses his lips and considers. “Long enough to form a hypothesis that ended up being very financially beneficial to me.”

The phrase financially beneficial threatens to make my head explode, but I push it aside and try to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

“You were the one who told him that I could be the long-lost daughter, weren’t you?”

Belevich shrugs. “When you abandon your ploys and go in for the kill, you play like him. Bold. Aggressive. Out for blood. He would be proud to know this.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

His expression turns serious again. “I want to win my money back from you.”

The abrupt change in conversation leaves me struggling to figure out what the hell his angle is, and what he really wants from me.

“Too late. Game’s over.”

“Not now,” Belevich says with a shake of his head. “Next week. The Prague Grand Prix. We’ll play again at the final table.”

I know the game he references well. I won it years before in an upset they still talk about at the tables. It caught the attention of the people who needed to know I existed, and helped me cement my career as a professional poker player. I don’t need to play it again. I have nothing to prove.

“I’m not interested,” I tell him, shifting on my heel as though ready to leave.

“Of course, the pot isn’t big enough to pique your attention. Why don’t we make it more interesting?”

“How?”

“Five-million-dollar side bet.”

He tosses it out like it’s off the cuff, but I have to believe Belevich has been thinking about this throughout the game. Why, though? Instead of asking the question I really want answered, I taunt him.

“I’m married to a billionaire. Your five million doesn’t even get my blood pumping,” I say, injecting my tone with a bored note.

“What if I promised, win or lose, I will give you all the information I’ve been told about your sister?”

Abandoning my intent to stroll away and tell him to fuck off, I step closer into Belevich’s personal space. “Why don’t you just tell me now and we can skip this bullshit?”

I want to slap the half smile off Belevich’s face as he speaks.

“Because I’m Russian and stubborn, and I want another chance to win my money back.”

“I’ll give you every fucking penny I won tonight.”

He shakes his head. “It is not the same. I do not want you to give me anything. I want to take it from you.”

My jaw clenches, and a vein throbs in my temple. “Why Prague?”

“Because everyone will be watching, and they’ll all cheer when I win.”

Fucking men and their egos. I’m not going to get anything out of him tonight, except maybe . . . maybe I can get a little reassurance.

“I’ll only consider it under one condition,” I tell him.

He inclines his head as if waiting for me to continue.

“Is Summer still in danger?”

The Russian presses his lips together. “I would never assume that you or anyone you love is completely safe, especially not now when you’ve married a man with many enemies who would love to see him brought low.” He lifts his chin in the direction beyond my right shoulder. “De Vere is only one such enemy.”

Great. More riddles.

I glance over my shoulder to where Bastien is still on the phone, eyeballing me and Belevich. Now, the only thing I want more than information is to get the fuck out of here, right now.

“If an invite to the grand prix shows up in my hand, I’ll consider it. I make no promises.”

“You’ll get the invitation. I look forward to seeing you there.” He lifts his vodka in salute before backing away and disappearing into the crowd beyond the dais.

Batman crosses over to me as soon as Belevich is out of sight. “Mrs. Forge, are you ready?”

“Yes, but I’m not staying here tonight. I want to pack my stuff and get the hell out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Batman pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’ll contact the pilot and pick up your winnings.” Glancing at the other two guards, he says, “They’ll escort you to your room, and we will arrange to depart as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

With two bodyguards trailing me, I stride past where Bastien sits at the bar, still on his cell phone. His gaze trails over me, leaving a creepy feeling in its wake.