Luck of the Devil

By: Meghan March


The lobster and fish I ate earlier threaten to make a reappearance on the white tile floor.

“You’re lying,” I say, my tone ragged as my stomach twists. I don’t want to believe it. I can’t believe it. Who would be so horrible?

“You don’t have to believe me,” Bastien says with a smirk. “You can figure that shit out for yourself. All you gotta do is think, Indy.”

I dig my nails into my palms as I try to steady myself. I know what Bastien’s trying to do—make me question everything. And it’s working.

I flip through the memories of how Forge said he’d help me get my sister back, but only if I said yes to his no-questions-asked favor that would be financially beneficial to him.

I remember the shock I felt when the chopper touched down on the deck of the yacht and Summer stumbled out. I couldn’t believe she was already there and safe. I was too stupid and happy and grateful to ask the million questions that popped into my mind about how he managed it.

Forge didn’t kidnap her. There’s no way. Is there?

When I don’t reply, Bastien continues.

“Actions speak louder than words, right? You know none of this adds up. He’s been playing you since day one. Fuck, even before day one. You think he walked into that card game at La Reina by accident?” Bastien taps his chin. “I wonder who told him about it? Jean Phillippe, maybe?”

I swallow. “Give me one good reason why Forge would do any of this.”

Bastien’s lips twist into a predatory smile. “No one gets something for nothing around here.”

Of course. Of course he wants something from me. I can only imagine what it is.

“Not so quick to ask questions now, are you?” His smug tone makes me want to backhand the smirk off his face.

Play the man, not the game. Pull it together, Indy. He’s trying to bait you.

“That’s not it,” I tell him, my tone frigid this time. “I just know you won’t answer a single one. I shouldn’t be surprised either. You always go back on your word.”

Bastien’s expression sharpens. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You said you’d tell me everything if I came with you. My instincts to run the other way were absolutely right.”

“And stay with Forge? He’s the one who fucked you over . . .” His lip curls as he drags his gaze up and down my body. “Literally and figuratively.”

A greasy feeling pools in my stomach and I sidestep toward the door. “You want me to believe he’s the bad guy in this scenario? Give me proof.”

Bastien laughs caustically. “I didn’t peg you to be so fucking naive, Indy. Answer one question for me—did he make you sign a prenup?”

I freeze. It’s the same question I asked myself. How the hell could Bastien know to ask that?

“If only your face was this expressive at the poker table. You’d never fucking win,” Bastien says with a cruel grin. His index finger taps the rim of the glass. “So, no prenup . . . Did you even bother to ask yourself why a billionaire would commit financial suicide by getting married without a prenup?”

I may as well have turned into a statue, because I did ask myself the question . . . and just let it go like a freaking idiot.

Bastien’s tapping stops as his grin turns shark-like. “One answer . . . because he has more to gain than to lose by marrying you.”

“I’m broke, Bastien. What the hell could Forge possibly have to gain?”

A fractured memory comes back as Bastien crosses the room to sit on the bed.

“Forge is using you to get what he wants from your father.”

But I don’t have a father.

Bastien pats the mattress beside him. “Why don’t you sit down, Indy. It’s a long story.”





6





Forge





Death by a thousand cuts was the wrong way to play Isaac’s revenge. I should have killed de Vere. If he were dead, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

Now I’m going to kill him with my bare hands, and I don’t give a fuck who he is.

His father can scream down the House of Lords, and it will make absolutely no difference to me. De Vere took my wife. Somehow, he’s involved in this whole fucking mess, and I don’t know how. Yet.

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