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

Chapter Twenty

Am I in the movie Beauty and the Beast?

Hearts light up in my eyes as I take in the thousands and thousands of books in rows from top to bottom. It’s straight out of my fantasy. Every daydreaming bookish girl’s fantasy.

As though someone peered deep into my brain and made it a reality.

The cavernous library we’ve stepped into is turned into a shimmering ballroom. The four chandeliers decorate the ceiling, glinting and shining like precious jewels. I twirl in a circle, wanting to soak in every tiny detail into a memory I’ll cherish and reminisce forever.

The dim lightening makes our surroundings even more hypnotic.

I’m too mesmerized by the spines of the books to give a flying fuck about the small crowd spread around the room. The party or our reason for being here all but forgotten. My feet have a mind of their own, aching to run toward the shelves, steal a book, and disappear somewhere to read.

I take a step, only for a firm hand to lock around my elbow in a vise-like grip.

“Don’t you dare wander toward the books, Rosalie.”

I pout. “But—”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Miya huffs. “And no. You have all your life to read. Tonight is about letting loose.”

I realize she’s right. I promised myself the same. Glancing at the books longingly once more, I let Miya pull me toward what is a bar to our right. Alcohol of all varieties and then some line the glass shelves behind it in a striking arrangement.

Miya is busy buying her drink while I decline. Instead, I search the throng of bodies dressed in custom tuxedos and suits, and a few in similar dresses to ours with their faces hidden behind masks. Some downright terrifying and creepy to sultry and innocent.

The ratio of men to women doesn’t fit the theme of everyone being a couple.

In fact, there are more men than women.

Something’s not right.

“There they are,” whispers Miya in my ear.

“Who?”

“Malcolm and Nova. Who else?”

In one of the corners of the room, which I didn’t notice before, is a small seating area. A group of five men reserve that space as theirs, sitting and quietly talking. Their aura screaming untouchable and superior to others. One can always tell with the group that stands apart. Whether in high school or college.

Besides, Nova wouldn’t belong in anything less than that.

I recognize Malcolm by his mask, which I saw in his bedroom earlier. The dim light makes it hard to make out their suits so I can distinguish Nova from the others and avoid risking being recognized by him.

“That guy lied,” mutters Miya angrily. “No one’s a couple here. Unless it’s a polyamorous relationship.”

“Yeah, I figured it too,” I reply.

She nudges her drink, smelling like vodka, toward my hand, but I shake my head.

“Oh, come on, one sip won’t hurt,” she insists.

“Fine.” I gingerly take a sip and immediately cough. “Ughh… Damn, it burns. Who in their right mind can enjoy this?”

Miya laughs, rolling her eyes at my reaction, and downs the shot in one go. Without fucking flinching.

“Show-off,” I tease.

“It’s not the taste but the high it brings in your bloodstream later.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Her gaze skirts over my shoulder and she curses under her breath, “Shit.”

“What?” I ask, when she turns toward the bar.

“Don’t look but they’re all staring in our direction.”

I look down so my hair hides my face while smoothing my hand down the slit in my skirt. “How about you and I circle around the room separately to avoid drawing attention?”

“Yep.”

Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I adjust my mask and wander away. Drawn to the books once more, I stride toward them and run my fingers over the spines. The titles are foreign to me, but I can tell they’re all classics and historical books.

Suddenly the low music playing in the background stops altogether, causing the murmurs to die down and a sinister anticipation darkening the energy in the large room.

Whirling around, I no longer see Nova’s group in the corner.

In fact, they are nowhere to be seen.

None of the men are.

Miya and my eyes connect across the room a second before complete darkness descends. Fear seizes my bones as I look left and right, seeing nothing.

Suddenly, a noise cackles through what sounds like a speakerphone.

“Whoever catches you, you’re his for the night,” says a deep, distorted voice. “The only way to escape, ladies, is to run fast… not that it’ll work.”

The shelf behind me shifts and I’m yanked backward.

“Ahh… No!!” I scream.

It gets swallowed in the other screams that pierce the night. The secret door designed as a shelf shuts in my face, taking away my hope of escaping.

I’m left completely alone in a darkish hallway that doesn’t look well-kept. Abandoned and dirty.

Twisting around, I bang my fists on the wall with all my might but it doesn’t budge. Heart pounding in a scary drumbeat, I rest my forehead against it in defeat. Nightmares that took me years to marginally overcome and even more to keep buried resurface like cancer.

“Open! Open! Fucking open!” I hoarsely shout. “Please.”

No one replies and it remains quiet as a soulless night. The longer I stay still, holding myself against the brick wall, the quicker my present blurs with the past. The rancid smell of smoke, the rapid beating of my heart, and the terrifying pitch-black darkness.

Tears sting my eyes, while my lungs feel like caving in from the lack of oxygen.

I feel like the little me trapped in the room with him.

Behind my closed eyes, I see his hand reaching out and…

“No!” I whisper to myself and force my eyes open. “I’m not her anymore. I will get out of here.”

Maybe this is my chance to completely overcome my worst fear.

My limbs shake as I take deep, calming breaths until my vision adjusts to the darkness. Slowly. I turn around and search for a way out.

Without getting caught by anyone.

I’m not being any man’s plaything.

Neither am I sneaking out ever again. I’ve learned my lesson. Risqué getaways like these always go awry.

Of course, Nova and his friends would come up with these seedy games for their thrill. Leaving a girl helpless gets their rocks off. Sure, I’m intrigued by the fantasy of being taken by a masked man. The dirty danger of it arousing.

But only if it’s on my terms.

I trail my palm along the wall on my left to guide me forward. My heels click loudly on the floor. So, I pause and take my heels off because I don’t want to alert the predators running rampant in these halls.

Besides, my heels would make for a perfect weapon.

Gripping them tight in my free hand, I resume walking and in few short steps, my fingers collide with a doorknob. I grit my teeth when it makes a horrible creaking noise as I push it down.

Or maybe it’s my frazzled brain making it seem louder than it is.

I enter a room lit up with candles. It’s furnished and maintained unlike the hallway I was thrown into. A twin bed with a canopy sits in the middle while a dresser with an arched mirror is pushed against one wall.

A princess’s room.

Lifting my gown, I reach the dresser and study its contents that have been kept organized. The tiniest of scraping sounds cuts through the air. Immediately, I stare up in the mirror above and my heart plummets to my stomach when a silhouette appears behind me.

Whirling around, I come face to face with a tall man in a black-and-white mask with hollow eyes. A sharp scream pierces out of my throat when he charges for me. Adrenaline pumping, I kick him in the balls with the pointy heel of my Louboutin.

He howls in pain and falls to the ground.

“Fucking bitch!”

Left with one shoe, I get the hell out of the room through another door on my left. Another long corridor greets me as I run farther away to avoid being caught by the man. I stop when I hear giggling.

“Hello,” I call out, because I think I’m closer to other girls being chased.

My head snaps behind me and I watch them run past, followed by a guy confidently going after them. Hardly running. As if catching them is a foregone conclusion.

Unlike me, those girls didn’t seem scared.

Again, they aren’t broken like me.

I shudder as I take a step and collide with a wall. No, a hard brick-like chest. I try to turn but strong hands grip my waist and press flush against my back. The buttons on his shirt scraping against my naked skin due to the low cut of my gown.

Fear wars with something strange igniting low in my belly as I feel his warm breath skate across my neck. However, my rational instinct wins and I knock my elbow in his gut. He exhales roughly but his firm hold doesn’t ease.

Fight or flight, I once again poorly attempt to jam my heel in his body just to dislodge his grasp. Only for him to easily wrestle it out of my hand and throw it away.

The sharp thud echoes around us.

“Let me go!” I demand, heaving a breath.

Arms circling to my front, he grabs my wrists and locks them against my stomach. The smooth material of the mask caresses the side of my face as he whispers in my ear, “Shh…”

Tugging us into a shaded corner, he keeps me caged against his body. I’m confused when the same door I left bangs open and the guy I kicked steps out—limping, actually—followed by his friend.

“Where the hell did she go?” he growls.

“We’ll catch her,” answers his friend. “She couldn’t have gone far.”

“I won her fair and square.”

Won? What am I? Cattle? The condescending asshole. I have half a mind to go punch him again. As if reading my intentions, the stranger behind me squeezes me tighter. Both of us listen as the two guys continue plotting.

“The rules didn’t say they’ll resist or fight back,” he continues whining.

“Maybe she wasn’t from the group.”

Was I that obvious? Shit.

“Whatever. I’ll teach her a lesson once I get my hands on her.”

Behind me, the stranger who is turning out to be a savior, tenses at the blatant threat. I also realize how I haven’t been scared for even a second since he dragged us into a corner.

The two men finally stride in the opposite direction. Yet neither of us move.

I’m curious what he’ll do next.

Loosening his grip until my wrists fall back to my sides, he nudges me forward with his palms on my hips. Tingles spread all over me as I obey the command. Turning, I look up into his face and gasp in shock.

Because staring down at me is no savior, but a predator in sheep’s clothing.

Malcolm.