Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(33)

“If you need investment advice, I know a guy,” he says with a wolfish grin.

“You?”

He shakes his head. “No. You don’t trust me yet. But I have a good friend and business partner who’s on the island with his wife for vacation and business. He has a gift for making money that I’ve never seen before. Sometimes I wonder if he’s human, but then you meet his wife and see them together, and you realize he’s just a man.” Forge drums his fingers on the table. “As a matter of fact, they’ve invited us to dinner tonight, if you’re interested.”

I try to hide my surprise. Forge wants me to meet his friends? Be part of his life and not hidden away? What does that mean?

Cautiously, I clarify. “You want to take me to dinner and introduce me to your business partner and his wife?”

“Yes, I would. Very much.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’d enjoy a night where you’re not constantly trying to figure out what’s happening three moves ahead.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat, because I’m not sure how to feel about this at all. Dinner with friends sounds so normal . . . and not like our marriage is based on something financially beneficial to Forge.

Maybe I can learn more about him. Figure out what makes him tick. Figure out how to make him want me for me.

The last thought strikes out of nowhere, but I can’t say that it’s a lie.

“Okay. I’ll go.”





33





Forge





Indy changes her outfit seven times. I know because I count, and she’s officially run out of what she considers proper clothes for drinks by the pool and dinner.

“If you don’t make up your mind, I’ll have my personal shopper send an entire store of clothes over.”

She spins around in the bedroom and shoots me a look that says I would have done better to keep my mouth shut. Something about this whole day feels domestic in a way I’ve never experienced, and instead of unnerving me, I don’t want to lose it.

The scowl on her face says I’m doing just fine.

“I’ll figure it out. I just . . . I don’t know what to expect. I usually study people before I meet them in real life.”

“Stop worrying. You’ll be fine. They’re good people. If I thought there would be any issue, I would’ve said no and not brought it up.”

She scrunches her nose. “I know I’ll be fine. I can handle myself. I sit at the poker tables with billionaires and sheikhs.”

“I know you can. Once you figure out what to wear . . .”

Indy shoots me the middle finger. “I’ll be ready in an hour.”

“Good, because otherwise we’ll be late.” I take a step toward the door, but Indy tosses a shirt at my head.

With one brow tugging upward, I stop. “Yes?”

“Just so you know, I’m paying for something tonight.”

Her expression is mulish, but I push back anyway.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Maybe not to you, but it is to me. I don’t care if it’s the appetizers or dessert, or even a damn rose for his wife. I’m paying for something. I am a millionaire, after all. It might not be much compared to what you have—”

I almost start laughing, because technically, as long as we’re married, what’s mine is also hers. But clearly, Indy doesn’t think that way, which confirms for the dozenth time that she’s nothing like any other woman in my past.

“You’re a multimillionaire, Ace. Don’t sell yourself short. I’ll make sure you can spend some money tonight. You have my word.”

Her chin juts stubbornly. “Good. Now go. I want you to be wowed when you see me.”

With my lips still tugging upward, I step out and close the door. To the empty hallway, I say, “You don’t have to worry about that. I always am.”





34





India





I’m going to kill him. Literally. With my bare hands. Maybe drown him in the blue waters of the pool beside us. Or maybe drag him out across the beach and let the ocean take him for good.

How could he not tell me that the people we were meeting with were the infamous billionaire Creighton Karas and his megastar wife, Holly Wix?

I keep my forced smile in place through the introductions on the deck of the pool and manage not to choke on my own spit when a woman I’ve heard on the radio more times than I can possibly count shakes my hand.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, India. Or can I call you Indy? From what Jericho has said about you, I have a feeling we’re going to get along just fine.”

For a second, I wonder what the hell Forge said about me, but I’m too tongue-tied to ask.

“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Wix. Or is it Mrs. Karas? What should I call you?”

The breeze rising off the sea sends her loose dark hair rippling out behind her like she’s in a photo shoot. The woman is even more stunning in person than on TV.

“Call me Holly, and I’ll call you Indy. I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends.”

Holly’s Southern twang reminds me that she wasn’t always married to a billionaire, but won her first recording contract on a TV show. Now she sells out stadiums all over the world. I would expect her to be dripping with diamonds and wrapped in couture, but she’s dressed in a flowing white-and-blue sundress and silver gladiator sandals.