Deal with the Devil Read online

  After that, I tried to use his computer, but unlike me, his shit is impossible to hack into. None of the creative passwords I tried worked either, including bigdickswinging69 and releasethekrakenwithindy.

  He stands before me now, his arms crossed over his chest, studying me like he’s coming to some sort of decision.

  “What, Forge? Just tell me already.”

  He’s silent for another moment before he replies. “I’ll bring your sister back to you safely, but in return, you have to do something for me, no questions asked.”

  That gives me pause. “What kind of something?”

  He looks skyward, and I wonder if he’s trying to find the patience to deal with me. He meets my gaze again, but this time, there’s no humor in his expression at all.

  “No questions asked, India. Do you understand what that means?”

  I bite my lip because I have at least seventeen questions ready to fire off at him.

  “I will tell you, though,” he says, “it’s not sexual in nature, but it is something that will be financially beneficial to me.”

  Not sexual in nature, but financially beneficial? Neither of those clues gives me any kind of assistance in solving the riddle that is Jericho Forge and what he wants in return for saving the person who matters most to me.

  “Yes or no, Indy. You have sixty seconds to decide.”

  My eyes widen, and I blink several times in quick succession. “What? Sixty seconds? That’s—”

  “How it’s going to be. It’s not a hard decision. You shouldn’t need more time to decide. After all, you did say you’d do anything, even sell your soul, to get your sister back, didn’t you?”

  I grit my teeth, because I want to say so many things, but none of those things are going to change the situation.

  He glances at his watch. “Forty-five seconds.”

  I wait, on purpose, until he hits fifteen. “Fine. I’ll do it. Whatever it is. I’ll do it.”

  I expect a victorious smile to spread over his features, but instead, he just nods without even a hint of humor.

  “Come with me to the bridge.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” I say, my mocking quips not lost on the man, at least I assume not given his raised eyebrow before he leaves the salon.

  I follow him outside, along the side of the yacht, through a single glass door and then up two curving flights of stairs through another set of double doors.

  The captain and Koba both stand near the massive steering wheel of the yacht.

  “Captain, can you confirm for me that we’re in international waters?”

  What the hell does that matter? Is he going to start diving for treasure and pull $10 million out of the ocean?

  “Yes, Mr. Forge. We are indeed.”

  “And this ship is registered under the flag of a country that allows marriage at sea?”

  What in the actual fuck is he talking about?

  The captain nods again, but with confusion this time. “Yes, sir. That’s correct.”

  “Excellent. Then you can do Ms. Baptiste and me the great honor of marrying us.”

  Forge did not just say that.

  The captain looks just as shocked as I’m sure I do. “Sir?”

  “Are you questioning my order, Captain?”

  “No, sir. I just wanted to confirm that you, in fact, want me to perform a wedding ceremony right now. Between you and Ms. Baptiste?”

  “Yes.”

  The captain looks around the room, as if to buy himself time to respond. “We’ll need a second witness.”

  “Dorsey is on her way up with the marriage license.”

  Forge looks at me, as if waiting for me to say something. But for the first time in maybe my entire life, I’m speechless. Completely speechless. I don’t know what to say or what to think. Nothing makes sense.

  Am I still drunk? Am I dreaming? I reach down and pinch my arm, but the sting tells me I’m wide awake.

  “Nothing to say, Ms. Baptiste?”

  I stay quiet, watching him like he’s about to sprout a second head at any moment.

  Jericho Forge wants me to marry him? Why on earth could he possibly want to marry me? I recall his words in the salon.

  “It is something that is financially beneficial to me.”

  I can buy that, but why me? I desperately want to ask the question, but I agreed to no questions. It takes everything I have to keep it inside.

  Dorsey enters the bridge carrying a file folder and a pen. She hands them both to Forge. He flips the folder open and signs his name to a document.

  “Where the hell did you get a marriage license?”

  “Friends in high places.”

  I shake my head at him. “There is something severely wrong with you. Possibly a mental defect, because this isn’t normal.”

  I take the pen from his hand and the piece of paper that reads Certificate of Marriage on the top. My hand hovers over the line waiting for my signature.

  I glance up at Forge. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “No questions asked, Ms. Baptiste. That was the stipulation.”

  “I’m not asking for your reasons, Forge. I’ll do it. I don’t have a choice. But I need to know you’re sure that this is the only way.”

  Something in his expression softens for a beat. “I’m sure.” He presses his lips together and adds, “But you always have a choice with me, Indy. Choose wisely.”

  I study his face, looking for any semblance of a reason that he’d want to marry me, especially after he pushed me away last night.

  All I see is unreadable dark gray eyes, and a face that haunts my waking and sleeping hours.

  I bite my lip and make my decision.

  I don’t know whether it’s the wise choice, but I scrawl my name on the signature line right below his.

  He planned this. Last night, while I was asleep. Jericho Forge planned our goddamned wedding.

  But why?

  I hand him the license back, and he tucks it away in the file before reaching down to grab my hand and pull me next to him in front of the captain.

  “Now, if you’ll proceed, Captain.”

  I don’t recall a single word the captain spoke. They all blurred together like I’d been plunged underwater. Then Forge slides a ring onto my finger, bringing everything into laser-sharp focus.

  It’s a silver band with a big fat diamond in the middle. So, probably not silver. More likely platinum.

  How does he have a ring? And how does it fit perfectly?

  As the captain says, “You may kiss the bride,” Forge’s dark eyes lock onto my face as his mouth descends toward mine. Our lips collide, and it’s no chaste kiss. No, it’s possessive and hungry and all-consuming. His fingers curl around my upper arm and his hand presses against my lower back, moving me closer to his body.

  Every shred of confusion and lingering question about why he secretly arranged a wedding disappear from my brain as I learn his taste and spar with his tongue. My fingers tangle in his long dark waves, and I pull his head down harder against mine. He nips at my bottom lip, and a bolt of pleasure shoots lower until I’m squeezing my thighs together to fight off the urge to mount him right here, right now.

  And in a split second, it’s over. He pulls back and sets me away from him. My disengaged fingers hang limply between us like I’m still reaching for him.

  Forge turns to the captain. “Thank you.”

  Then he turns to leave the bridge as I gape after him.

  He pauses at the door and holds out a hand. “Come, India.”

  I’m still deciding how to respond to his Jekyll-and-Hyde personality switch when I hear a distinctive whap-whap-whap sound.

  Forge cranes his neck to look toward the sky before looking back to me. “Come on. They’re here.”

  I move to him and look up at the chopper approaching the boat.

  What the hell?

  “Who’s here?”

  “You’ll see.” Forge takes my hand and pu
lls me toward another stairway that leads to the top deck, which I now realize is a helipad.

  The chopper sets down and the door opens. A man gets out, followed by a slim woman with blond hair whipping in the wind created by the rotors.

  Summer.

  29

  Forge

  I’ve never seen so wide an array of emotions flash over someone’s features with such clarity. Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. Relief. And then something I’ve never seen on Indy before.

  Pure joy. It lights up her entire countenance.

  All the stress and worry and panic I’ve seen on Indy’s face since the first time I stepped foot in the card room at La Reina give way to bliss. I didn’t think it was possible for her to look any more beautiful, but apparently, I was wrong.

  Stop. Don’t get soft. And what the fuck was that kiss? Get yourself together, Forge.

  “Summer!” Indy yells as she drops my hand and speeds toward her sister, who looks like a younger version of the woman I just married.

  As I watch the two collide in a grapple of a hug, I let what I just did sink in.

  I married her.

  I can’t stop the wave of possessiveness that charges through me at the knowledge that she’s mine. It’s fierce and primal and goes beyond the knowledge that I’ve removed her from de Vere’s orbit permanently.

  I married her . . . and I haven’t even fucked her yet.

  Tears stream down both their faces, and they look like the perfect reunion of long-lost siblings.

  I shut down the emotion and remind myself why I did this. I didn’t just buy her loyalty today. I bought her.

  Everything else will play out in good time. For now, I need to get my head straight and get back to work. This is just the beginning.

  30

  India

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.” I run my hands all over Summer’s shoulders and arms before she grabs my wrists.

  “I’m okay. I swear. No one hurt me.”

  “You’re okay. Thank God you’re okay.” I cup my hands around my little sister’s cheeks and tilt my face until our foreheads touch.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for getting me out of there. I was so scared that I . . .” Summer trails off and lifts her face to meet my eyes.

  “I know.”

  She shakes her head. “You don’t. You never should know. I’m so sorry, Indy. I fucked up bad, and that’s on me. I’m so fucking sorry. I won’t ever touch another deck of cards as long as I live. I swear to God, I won’t. I’ll . . . I’ll . . . get a job waiting tables or scrubbing floors. I’ll never—”

  I drop my hands to grip my sister’s shoulders and squeeze her. “Just breathe, Summer. It’s going to be okay. You’re home now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  I’m saying it just as much for myself as for her as I pull her against me and hug her hard. For long moments, neither of us moves.

  Finally, Summer releases me and looks around. “Where the hell are we?”

  I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see Forge, my new husband, standing behind us and watching intently, but he’s nowhere to be found.

  Dammit, Forge. I have a million questions right now, for both him and my sister, but it’s clear I won’t be getting any answers from him.

  “Indy?” Summer asks as I go silent.

  My gaze returns to her dirt-streaked face. It looks like someone gave her a mostly clean towel to wipe off the grime.

  “We’re safe and everything is fine.” Just the thought of what she must have gone through makes me choose my words wisely.

  I’ve always protected Summer. When our mother brought her home from the hospital, she made it very clear that Summer’s health and safety were my responsibility. I was eight at the time, but I took the vow I made in that trashy little flat very seriously.

  I won’t let anything bad happen to her.

  At that time, it meant her dirty diapers were changed and her bottles were the perfect temperature. I can count on two hands how many times our mother took on either task, and still have plenty of fingers left over.

  It’s not a responsibility an eight-year-old should have to bear, but I did it gladly. Summer was the one person in my life who loved me unconditionally and depended on me for everything. She was mine in a way nothing and no one ever has been, before or since.

  And now I’m married to a man I don’t know because that’s what it took to save her life . . . Except how the hell did he get her out so fast? I just told him the truth last night.

  My joy at seeing my sister still burns just as brightly, but a sliver of confusion and resentment stabs into me.

  He already had his plan underway when the captain pronounced us man and wife.

  What the hell is Forge’s game? There’s no way he would have married me unless it was extremely “financially beneficial.” He’s already a billionaire, and he made it clear that mere millions are the equivalent of pocket change. I have to find out what his motives are and why he maneuvered me into this situation.

  “I thought I was going to die there,” Summer says, her shoulders shaking as she breaks into a sob.

  Every other thought in my head evaporates as I wrap my arms around her. “You know I would never let anything bad happen to you. Ever.”

  Her body shakes harder as tears soak my shirt. “I can’t believe I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I knew better. And all I could think was—Indy is going to be so mad at me.” She lifts her face, and I wipe away the tears dripping down her cheeks with my thumbs.

  “I’m not mad at you. I promise. In a few years, I might want to shake the crap out of you and ask what the hell you were thinking, but right now, I’m just so glad to have you back.”

  My sister flings her arms around me and squeezes me even tighter. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Indy. I swear I’ll pay you back. I promise. Even if it takes me the rest of my life, I will.”

  That’s when it hits me. Forge paid $10 million to save my sister . . . and now I have to go thank him and find out why.

  But first . . . a tear slides down my cheek as Summer cries on my shoulder, and I send up a prayer to anyone who may be listening.

  Thank you for saving my sister. Please protect me from whatever is coming next.

  Bad luck has always come in threes in my life, and I have no doubt that this isn’t completely over.

  31

  Forge

  I’m in my study on a call when I hear a knock at the door.

  I gave orders not to be interrupted. Which means . . . it could only be one of the two people on this boat who didn’t receive those orders.

  The knock comes again. “Forge?”

  It’s India. My wife.

  That rush of possessiveness keeps taking me by surprise. I never planned to get married. Never realized how the knowledge that a woman belonged to me and only me would affect my brain and body.

  Even now, blood rushes to my dick at the sound of her voice. Fuck. Now I can’t stop picturing her kneeling between my legs, showing me exactly how fucking grateful she is that her sister isn’t being sold off as some perverted fuck’s toy.

  I end the call with a terse excuse.

  “Enter.”

  As soon as I say the word, the door swings open and India stands there with her wind-ruffled hair and tearstained face. Instead of her poker face in place and her guard up, her emotions are easy to read.

  Just like I thought before I made myself walk away from the reunion scene—she’s never looked more fucking beautiful.

  Maybe that’s because she’s mine.

  More blood rushes to my dick at the thought, and I force myself to stop thinking about it. Or at least I attempt to.

  “What do you need?” My tone comes out clipped, but it doesn’t faze her.

  She steps into the office and closes the door behind her, not realizing she’s entering the den of the beast. I’m approximately thirty seconds away from rippi
ng her clothes off, bending her over my desk, and mounting her to get rid of this fucking fascination I have with her and her luscious body.

  She takes another step forward, and I wrap my fingers around the arms of my chair to prevent myself from leaping up to do exactly that.

  This woman doesn’t have a fucking clue, and for some reason, I like that way too goddamned much.

  “I don’t need anything,” she says, sounding more hesitant.

  Well, that makes one of us. Because I need to blow my load in your tight cunt and show you who owns you.

  I clench my teeth to keep from saying what’s on my mind. She’d be fucking terrified if she had a clue. For some reason, a smile tugs at the edge of my mouth. Maybe I want her terrified. Maybe I want to hear her beg.

  I’m a ruthless motherfucker, and up until this very moment, women have been disposable objects. Fungible goods, each one no different from the last. But India Baptiste—correction, India Forge—is the exception to the rule.

  Because she’s the only woman I’ll ever give my name.

  Forcing back the urge to smile like a fucking madman, I raise an eyebrow. “If you don’t need anything, then why are you here?”

  I sound like a dick, and that’s not an act. I am a dick. Life is easier when people don’t know you give a fuck about them.

  India’s brief attempt at timidity sheers away, and she bristles with the confidence that never fails to fire my blood. She crosses her arms over her chest, lifting her tits deliciously, and stares me down.

  “I came to say thank you. I don’t know what your motive is, but regardless, you did something that I can never repay, and I need to thank you.”

  I study her carefully. “Who says you can’t repay it?”

  Her blue eyes go wide. “It’ll take me years to—”

  I shake my head, cutting her off. “I don’t want money from you. I never have.”