Heart of the Devil (Forge Trilogy Book 3) by Meghan March

Author:Meghan March [March, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Dress Press
Published: 2019-03-11T18:30:00+00:00

25

India

Two weeks later, Summer has had enough of my hibernating. Apparently, she doesn’t buy that I’m too busy with my latest Netflix series binge to leave the flat.

“You have to get out of here before you become furniture. Seriously, Indy. This isn’t you. You need to be out doing things. Living. That’s what you love.”

Love. What bullshit.

But I’m not about to spew my jaded views at my sister right now. “I showered today. What more do you want from me?”

Summer’s temper snaps. “I want you to leave this fucking flat and stop scaring Alanna to death! This isn’t only affecting you, you know.”

And here comes the guilt. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I . . . didn’t think about that.”

“Probably because you’re only feeling sorry for yourself.” She plops down on the table between me and the TV. “So what if your marriage is over. Your life isn’t. Go out and fucking live it. Your phone won’t stop buzzing with invites to games all over the world. People are talking about Prague and what a beast you were. If you don’t capitalize on it now, you might never get another chance like this.”

“Wait.” I hold up a finger. “How did you get in my phone?”

“You used my birthday as a pass code. It wasn’t hard.”

It reminds me of when Forge hacked into my phone, and now I know it wasn’t for the reason he gave me. He already knew my sister had been kidnapped.

I slam down the lid on the iron box that I’m keeping all Forge thoughts in. Stop thinking about him. It’s over. He tossed you out like rotten fish. Focus on the present.

I have my winnings from the Prague Grand Prix, and I have a $5 million side bet to collect from Belevich to add to my stash. And apparently, I have invitations to play all over the world.

The old Indy would scan through them with glee in her eyes, but I feel no such excitement. I feel . . . nothing. Like I’m dead inside.

Stop being so dramatic. That’s Summer’s MO.

But I’ve also never fallen in love like this before . . . Slam. The. Lid. Down.

I glance at my sister’s concerned face. Someday, I have to tell her that her mother was a kidnapper who lied about me being dead to my father, but not today.

“Where’s my phone?”

My sister hops off the table and scampers into the kitchen with way too much energy. A moment later, she drops it in my lap. I tap in the code, and sure enough, she’s opened all the texts that have been sent for the last couple weeks. Many of the games have already taken place.

I get to Belevich’s message.

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