Luck of the Devil

By: Meghan March


From behind me, Karas chokes on his drink. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

I lift my glass and swallow deeply before shifting to face him. “No. It was a means to an end. The only way I could secure her and the deal.”

Karas strides across the room and stops in front of me. “You married her to secure the deal? Jesus fuck, Forge. We’re going to have to throw you a bigger cut of the profits for taking one for the team, because I distinctly recall you saying not too many months ago that you’d never get married.”

How could I forget that? I stood in Karas’s California cliffside mansion and swore off marriage right before Riscoff tied the knot.

“I did what needed to be done.” I toss down the rest of my drink. “I won’t let you or Riscoff down. The ships will be built with Russian steel. The world will be stunned. And we’ll all be even richer than you ever planned.”

Instead of brightening like I expected, Karas’s expression turns thoughtful. “And what about your wife? What does she think about all of this?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t told her yet. She doesn’t even know who the fuck she really is.” To myself, I add, and I have no fucking idea how I’m going to tell her.

I’ve never given a shit about collateral damage resulting from doing whatever it takes to close a deal. But for the first time ever, it’s all I can think about. Because of her.

Karas gives me a worried look. “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing, Forge. Because complicated doesn’t even begin to cover the situation you’re dealing with. Let me get you another drink.”

He snags my glass, and I stare out the window toward the island where I left India.

I shouldn’t care how this is going to affect her.

But I do, and I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do about it.





3





India





Bastien’s hand wraps around my fingers like a vise, and I know I’ve made a terrible mistake.

“No, I’m not going anywhere with you.” I jerk back, but he won’t release me. “Let me go, Bastien!”

“Sorry, Indy. I can’t.”

He hauls me forward with all his strength, yanking me off my feet. I fly off the dock and over the side of the boat. My head slams into something hard, and pain explodes in my temple.

“No,” I mumble as I hear a man yelling my name in the distance.

“Gotta go,” Bastien says.

He lowers me to the deck as everything goes black.





4





Forge





Karas runs down the list of action items he and Riscoff have been handling on their end as my phone buzzes incessantly in the pocket of my suit pants. I ignore it for as long as possible, but when it starts up again, my gut says something’s wrong.

Karas pauses, and I pull it out.

“Excuse me for a minute.” I walk toward the marble fireplace on the opposite end of the living room from the table we’d taken over. “Forge,” I snap out in greeting.

“We have a problem, sir.” The voice belongs to Donnigan, one of my security people on the island. “Your wife . . .”

An icy shroud settles over me as I prepare for the worst, because somehow, my gut says that’s what’s coming.

“Where is she?”

“Gone, sir.”

I grip the mantel, and the sharp edge of the wood digs into my palm. “How the fuck did she get off the island?”

“By boat. She was down on the dock. I believe it was Bastien de Vere. I don’t know if the meeting was prearranged or not. At first it looked voluntary, but then there was a struggle. I’m climbing in the chopper now. We’ll pick you up on the roof of the Nobu, sir.”

A struggle. The ice melts and my temper boils with rage as I picture de Vere putting his hands on her. That motherfucker took my wife.

My jaw clenches, and I grit my teeth. I flex harder on the mantel, needing the bite of pain to keep from punching through the fucking wall.

“Get here. We’re going to hunt down that piece of fucking shit. I’m done playing games. I want his fucking head.”

I disconnect the call and release the mantel as fury rolls through me. Blood pounds in my head as I face Karas. Normally, I would school my reactions before someone could see my temper, but right now, I don’t fucking care.

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