Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(35)

“You find an artist you think has talent, and then you sign them to your label? Just like that?” Indy asks Holly with an awed expression on her face.

“Pretty much. I go with my gut. I can tell who wants it bad enough, and who isn’t willing to work hard enough for it.”

“I thought it took months and a million committees before a record label would sign someone.”

Holly tips the rim of her glass at her husband. “It does, unless your husband decides to go over your head and buy your record label for you.”

Indy’s blue gaze bounces from Holly to Karas. “No way. He didn’t.”

“Oh, he sure did,” Holly says as Karas picks up the bottle and pours the remains into his wife’s glass.

“You forgave me eventually. I think you even thanked me.”

“Men,” Holly says. “What do you do with them?”

Indy finally shifts in her chair to face me. “Don’t think I forgot you said you’d let me pay for something tonight. I meant it. And don’t go buying the freaking hotel so you can use the argument that it’s really already bought and paid for.”

With any other woman, I would have said it was the champagne that helped make her comfortable in the situation, but I know that’s not it. Indy has a hard-won confidence about herself that comes from the way she had to survive. I recognize it because it’s the same way I am.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what she said earlier. That life seems to work out the way it’s meant to.

Part of me wants to start believing what’s between us is real and could actually last, but my cynical side won’t let me give in to that idea. It’s not like buying a record label behind her back; I lured her into marriage without telling her the true reason why. She’s only staying for the money. I’d be a fool to think she won’t walk away the second the divorce papers are signed and the deposit hits her account.

And that’s no one’s fault but my own. Pushing the stabbing regret aside, I lift the tumbler of whiskey off the table and down the last sip.

“I promise I won’t buy the restaurant or the hotel,” I say, and shoot her a wink to cover the morose turn of my thoughts.

“And you’re definitely not paying for dinner,” Karas says, slapping a hand on the table.

“But—”

“It’s already been charged to our room. How about I invest some of your poker winnings, and we can consider this a business dinner that I’ll then write off, and you won’t feel guilty because you’re helping me pay less taxes.”

“Like you weren’t writing it off already,” Holly says with a playful roll of her eyes.

Karas rises and steps behind his wife’s chair to pull it out. “Of course, but you didn’t need to spill all my secrets.”

“Hardly a secret. But now, I think we need to go walk. I want to see this castle that I was told I couldn’t leave the island without seeing,” Holly says, lifting her chin to look straight up at him. Karas takes the opportunity to lean down and press a kiss to her lips before helping her out of her chair.

Indy’s eyes light up. “You haven’t seen it yet? It’s not far. An easy walk. Let me be your tour guide. And . . . just so you know, there are some incredible ice cream shops on the way.”

“I’m sold,” Holly says as she stands.

“What do you say?” Indy asks me. “Want to go explore like tourists?”

I pull out her chair and offer her my hand. She slides hers into it, and I squeeze tight.

“Lead on.”





36





India





Holly is enamored with Castell de Eivissa and its weathered stone walls and their carved inscriptions. As we wander through the medieval structures, I realize how lucky I was that my mother decided to disappear after she brought us to this island. It’s been my home for so many years, I’ve started to take its beauty for granted, and I wonder if Jericho has done the same.

Jericho.

His first name is popping into my head with more and more regularity, and each time, I have to check myself. This time, I stumble on the cobblestone street, and his hand is there to steady me.

“You okay? Too much champagne?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Just missed a step.” I can’t tell him the reason I missed a step is because of him.

After learning about his childhood this morning, and now seeing him with friends while he jokes and laughs at playful ribbing, he’s no longer this forbidding titan of industry or ruthless opponent. He’s flesh and blood.

I sneak a glance over my shoulder as the sea breeze ruffles his hair and the dimming light casts shadows from his sharp cheekbones. Incredible flesh and blood, I amend, and someone I like spending time with.

Maybe even more than like it. I’m starting to crave his droll comments and sarcastic wit. He makes me smile, and that’s not something I thought I’d ever say.

Not to mention, he has the world’s most incredible penis and he knows how to use it.

Maybe being Mrs. Jericho Forge isn’t the worst thing in the entire world. He’s done nothing but help me so far, and while I know there’s plenty in it for him, he didn’t lie about it. He just didn’t tell me the whole truth about his motivations.