Hateful Games: (An arranged marriage billionaire romance) (Arranged Games Book 2)

Chapter Nineteen

“Slow down, Miya,” I whisper-yell. “I can’t walk any faster in these heels in the dark.”

The grass tickles my legs as I hold the skirt of my dress up as we sprint across the mostly deserted road, lined with several luxurious cars, as if every student here is from a rich family. A few people lurk nearby, huddled in small groups or pairs wearing masks as per the dress code.

While the ancient-looking castle looms ahead, straight out of a gothic movie. The full moon rising behind the high tower, giving the illusion of being close enough to touch or hold in the palm of my hand.

“Hurry,” replies Miya, shockingly walking expertly in her equally high heels. She could give the models a run for their money walking on the runaway. “I don’t want anyone to recognize us until we’re in.”

“Are you afraid they’ll tattle on us to Nova?”

“And Malcolm. Although, it’s you they’ll be tattling on, not me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re their undefeated champ’s secret fiancée,” comes her swift reply. “Boys are intrigued why he kept you hidden. While the girls are swimming in petty jealousy for taking away their favorite fuckboy. On that note, do not, under any circumstances, take off your mask.”

“I don’t care,” I answer, bored. “They can have him for all I care. At least I’d finally be rid of him. Me being here shouldn’t stop him from being a Casanova.”

“Nova is not a manwhore.”

“Yeah, right.” My tone is sarcastic.

“No, seriously,” answers Miya, sincerity ringing in her voice. “Contrary to the gossip, Nova doesn’t fuck around.”

“So he’s discreet,” I counter. “A day before I came here, he was fucking some other girl.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“A friend of Malcolm’s.”

“Who?”

“A guy named Hunter or something.”

“Hunter?” She chuckles. “That guy is drunk half of the time. He can’t tell his hands from his arse. Not the most reliable source, babe.”

Is she implying Nova has been faithful to me? I find it hard to believe. I might as well believe unicorns exists. So, I say, “But you’re not denying he has slept around while being engaged to me?”

Giving me a knowing look, she replies, “And you’ve gone on dates with the same intentions.”

“Failed dates.”

Her face hidden behind the mask, she simply rubs my shoulder apologetically. Our conversation gets cut short when we arrive in front of the tall gates. Miya raps her knuckle thrice and a tiny window slides open, a masked man peering through it.

“Welcome to…?” he asks.

“Transylvania.”

That’s the password? Oh my god. Not at all what I expected. I couldn’t have guessed it in a million years. No one could have. Kudos to Malcolm, who I’m still pissed at for joining Nova on his quest to torment me. Although, he did look apologetic.

Shocking, I know.

We’re finally allowed entry, giving my heart a zap of excitement. A short dark hallway greets us. The security guard or whoever he was vanishing into thin air. A stunning chandelier hangs from the ceiling, glinting streaks of light on the blood red carpeted floor.

A curved spiral staircase beckons me, subtle music reaching our ears. There’s also another hallway to my right that pulls me in with the floor-to-ceiling zigzag mirrors lining the walls. A disco ball hanging that reflects colorful blinding lights.

An uncanny resemblance to a house of mirrors in a circus, which I used to visit often with my mom as a kid.

The corridor seems to go on, piquing my curiosity to where it leads. Thank God, I have the whole night to explore it. Like me, Miya is studying the caverns of the mansion with her mesmerized gaze.

A soft giggle, followed by a manly chuckle, makes us jump slightly. The snickering couple goes past us, paying us no mind as they take the flight of stairs.

“The party must be upstairs,” says Miya, while her eyes skirt to the mirrored hallway.

Glad I’m not alone in my curiosity, I intertwine our hands and tug her in the opposite direction to the stairs. I don’t want us to get separated since she’s my ride back home. I have no clue when Nova will be returning to his place but I sure as fuck need to be there sound asleep when he does.

“We shouldn’t,” Miya protests. “We don’t know what’s there.”

“Don’t be a scared mouse, Miya,” I tease. “Sneaking in here was your idea.”

“I just don’t want to get caught because we decided to play the thieves in the night and ruin said night before it’s even begun.”

“Oh shush,” I murmur. “That’s what our pretty masks are for.”

On my right, I see my reflection staring back at me as I tug a not-so-reluctant Miya after me.

The black full-length dress I’m wearing reveals more skin than it hides. One-shoulder neckline with a diagonal cut in the center exposing the sides of my breasts and another cut bares my midriff, revealing my pierced belly button. While the skirt of my dress cinches on the top of my right thigh with a slit before flowing to the floor.

With each step, my garter belt plays hide-and-seek teasingly.

I feel like the heroine from a James Bond movie.

My attention is snagged by my glittering butterfly mask, only hiding the upper half of my face. The dark red painted lips complementing my dress.

Behind me, Miya is the light to my dark in a stunning red ball gown. Her big and flowy skirt trailing behind her. She could make a runaway princess, out to search for her knight in shining armor. Or being stolen by a villain.

With the wickedness swimming in the air, the latter is a more likely possibility.

The hallway seems to go on and on, with sharp turns until we’re walking up another spiral staircase. This one narrow, like that of a haunted lighthouse. The vibration of the music from behind us disappearing until only the clicks of our heels remain.

“Are you sure we’re not going to get lost?” murmurs Miya.

As soon as she says it, a hulking figure, dressed head to toe in black, appears at the landing. His black metallic mask feels like staring into an abyss. We stop short two steps below him. There better not be another freaking passcode.

Crossing his arms, he informs, “Party’s in the right wing.”

“So wh—” My words trail into a low squeak when Miya squeezes my hand too hard.

“Why are you here then?” she asks mockingly, so I shut my mouth. “Having a lame party of one?”

I hold back my laughter. Miya is hilarious in her response when she wants to be.

“Let’s just say, this side isn’t safe for little girls like you.”

“Aww, did I hurt someone’s feelings?”

Is she forgetting we need him on our side to pass through? Taunting him will accomplish the opposite.

“Turn around and go.”

“No. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“Then you know only couples are allowed.”

My humor evaporates into utter shock when Miya slips her hand from mine to wrap around my waist and presses herself against me before sultry whispering, “And who told you we aren’t together?”

“Fuck,” he curses.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his typical guy reaction of us being lesbians. However, I freeze at his challenging words.

“Prove it.”

How the hel—

In the next breath, Miya tilts my head to hers and presses her soft lips against mine. My heartbeat skyrockets when she slowly kisses me and pries my lips open with her tongue to dance once with mine. I’m too stunned to do anything but let her lead the surprisingly sweet and exceptional kiss.

It ends just as quickly.

I slowly blink my eyes open and swallow thickly.

Fuck me. My first kiss happened with a girl.

“Jesus!” The guy’s low husky voice snags my attention. “Fine. Go on!”

“Thanks!” says Miya chirpily while my mind is still on the kiss. Taking my hand, she tugs me behind her. I wrinkle my nose when the guard not so discreetly adjusts his hard-on as we go past him.

One we are out of earshot, I gasp, “What the hell, Miya?”

She stops and turns. “I’m so sorry. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” I say with a chuckle, surprised it didn’t come out awkward. Goes to show just how close we’ve gotten as friends. “That was one hell of a kiss.”

“Too many drunken dares make for a lot of practice.”

“Well, whoever you date will be one lucky guy.”

“I know.”

I shake my head with a small smile. “Why did you cut me off, though?”

“Your accent, Rosalie,” she replies. “You’ll blow our cover in an instant.”

“Damn it. I didn’t think of that,” I mutter. “And what about what will happen here?”

“Oh that, I bluffed.”

“This isn’t your first rodeo, is it?”

Walking again, she shakes her head. “Nope.”

“I guess we’re in for a devious surprise then?” The excitement is visible in my tone.

“It better be real fucking good.”

A set of double doors await us, a thick carpet welcoming us. The second the door glides open with a small shove, both of our jaws drop.

“Wow!” I whisper in awe.