Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(49)

I wait for her to elaborate, not in the mood to play twenty questions.

“I just wanted to tell you that they’ve already cleared out all the broken stuff, and cleaners are tidying up everything as we speak. I was going to ask you to thank your husband for Alanna . . . but it sounds like you’d rather stab him.”

A teeny-tiny sliver of my rage fades away, but only because I’m not an ungrateful bitch.

“Is that all?”

“Alanna thought she saw one of the prostitutes this morning while she was at the market. I told her that there was no way, but she swears it was one of them. Of course, you know she now probably wants to save them too.”

Which was my first thought when I saw them last night. Then I remember what Forge said about my safety, and immediately I extrapolate it to my sister and Alanna.

“Did she have security with her? One of Forge’s people?” I chew on my lip, waiting for a response, because I can’t stand the thought of Alanna taking chances with her safety if there’s some kind of threat now that my identity has been exposed.

“Yeah, he insisted. It annoyed her a little, but she went along with it.”

“Good, that’s good,” I say, nodding even though she can’t see it. “Please tell her that she needs to keep going along with it.” For as long as this lasts, I add to myself.

“Oh, and Juliette pushed my start date for work back to today instead of Monday. Apparently, she had business in Saint-Tropez that took more time than she thought, so I’m leaving in a few minutes. Wish me luck?”

The last thing I want to think about right now is Forge’s ex-mistress, but still, not an ungrateful bitch.

“Of course. Be polite and professional. You know you’re capable of anything she puts in front of you. And if she tries to test you because of me—”

“Stop.” Summer interrupts my rant before it starts. “Don’t worry, Indy. I got this. I’ll call you tonight and fill you in on all the details.”

When my sister hangs up, I realize that there’s no boat coming for me. Summer has more important things to do—like secure her future by making a good impression on her new boss.

The whore.

Juliette, not my sister.

Either way, there’s no help or rescue coming from that direction. Which means, as usual, I’m on my own.

I open the sliding door that leads from the master suite to the patio and the pool, and the first thing I see is the distinct black boat, the one that looks more like a military attack vessel than a civilian runabout, speeding away from the island. It’s still close enough that I can also make out the wind-blown mane of black hair belonging to the man at the helm.

Forge.

Oh no, he didn’t. Except, he fucking did.

Even more determined to find a way off this island, I yank out my phone and scroll through my contacts. I will not be here when he gets back.





51





Forge





“I didn’t expect to see you before we left tomorrow. I thought you said you had everything handled?” Creighton Karas asks me as he opens the door to his suite.

I look around the room for Holly, not sure I want to have this conversation in front of her.

“Where’s your wife?” I ask Karas as he closes the door behind me.

“A designer flew in from Milan to bring her an entire season’s worth of dresses to choose from for her awards-show circuit. They’re in the bedroom.” He gives me a wry look with his eyebrows raised. “Now, tell me you didn’t come here just to see my wife before I gut punch you.”

“Trust me, that’s the last thing I fucking need this morning.”

Karas frowns at my strained words. “What’s going on?”

“Federov sent me an email this morning stating that he’d give on everything he marked up, but only on one condition. And there’s no way I can agree to that condition without both you and Riscoff signing off on it.”

“He’s willing to give on all the revisions he made in person?” Karas’s eyebrow rises.

If I were in his position, I’d be asking the exact same thing. When someone who has a reputation of being an impossible negotiator says they’ll give in on everything, you can’t help but wonder why he’d make such an insane shift in behavior.

“In exchange for what?” Karas asks.

“Something you won’t fucking believe.”

I hold a printout of the attachment to the email Federov sent me with his “must be accepted word for word” addendum to the deal. Without it, he won’t agree.

Karas reads over it and looks up at me, just as surprised as I was when I read it. “He’s fucking serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Karas says, rereading the language that states that the only way Federov will consent to signing the contract is if he’s made a full partner in the entity Karas, Riscoff, and I created, and upon his death, his daughter will receive his share and all rights related to it.

“It does, when you consider that he doesn’t trust me because I married his daughter behind his back.”

And I refuse to feel fucking guilty for it. It was the right choice. I’d do it again. Even as I tell myself that, a shred of doubt assails me and I force it down. I did what I had to do.