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

Chapter Twenty-five

Silence doesn’t bode well.

An idle mind is a destructive place.

I used to believe in these profoundly after witnessing it firsthand while growing up. I avoided subjecting myself to similar situations, always keeping my head in the zone whether in my studies, sports, or women. Especially the ultimate end goal, which is finally within my reach.

Yet lately, I’ve been craving a moment of silence and peace.

I’m constantly surrounded by people demanding my time. Everything is urgent or critical that even twenty-four hours aren’t enough. Not when you run a multinational company with businesses around the globe. I’m not complaining, though. I like my fast-paced and adrenaline-filled life. It feeds my competitive nature. The thrive to succeed and achieve new heights.

However, it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind a lazy day every now and then to unwind. Either fucking or boxing at my home gym.

Neither of which is an option right now.

Some might say this wedding is perfect.

The festivities are about to begin. The hustle and bustle still running strong while I sit in my suite. The past three months, everything has been about the wedding. Despite me telling everyone multiple times that I’m not interested in the trivial details, I’m stupidly asked questions about food, the music, and goddamn flowers.

What makes them think I give a fuck about any of that?

Shouldn’t the bride be burdened with this shit?

But I forget I have a reluctant and grumpy bride, who would rather burn down the royal palace—our wedding destination—into ashes than pick a romantic song to walk down the aisle.

I’m still breathing, so I’m counting ourselves lucky.

Thank God for weed, brought by my best man Nathan, or I’d be ready to punch a hole through the wall. I inhale deeply, letting it do its job and course through my veins.

Everyone has a vice. Since alcohol is out of the question, smoking it is.

“Did you invite Kian?” Nathan asks with an irritated scowl. To say his relationship with his older brother is simple sibling rivalry would be the understatement of the century.

“My father invited your whole family, Kian included,” I reply.

“He’s not family anymore.”

“Semantics,” I answer, billowing smoke toward the ceiling. “Do you think my dad would miss the opportunity to network or study his competition?”

“So would you, you bastard.”

I smirk. “That’s how you stay at the top, my friend.”

“I heard Dash and Kian are partners again,” he says grimly while taking a puff after I pass him the roll. “The waters are becoming too crowded.”

“Your dad giving you a hard time?”

“The man is grouchy and perpetually unsatisfied.”

“Why don’t you go out on your own like Kian?” I suggest. Better than being miserable by working for a man who’ll run both his son and company to an early death.

“Because unlike what everyone gossips, I do love our business.”

It’s true and shows in his work. Too bad his controlling prick of a father doesn’t see that Nathan has doubled the profits of the company after taking over as the CEO. But there’s only so much more he can do if he keeps breathing down his neck.

A dark and hesitant look crosses his features and I narrow my eyes. “What else?”

“Dad is pressuring me to purpose to Iris and get married.”

“Because it’ll help with the family image he wants to uphold?”

“Pretty much, and the board members are replicas of him,” he angrily says. “I’ve already proven myself invaluable to the company but they still see me as the reckless teen I used to be.”

“So, what then? Wedding bells in the near future?”

“I actually love my girl so I’m going to wait and do it right,” he says smugly. “Besides, Iris still has a year to graduate and then she wants to work for another two years before we’ll even think about settling down.”

“Wow, you have it all planned out,” I taunt. “You’re both like high school sweethearts. If I hadn’t seen you fuck your way through every girl in high school, I’d bet you and Iris would’ve been saving yourselves for marriage.”

He blows the next puff in my direction and I give him my middle finger.

“Where’s Iris, by the way?”

“On her way with your precious bride. I got her text when they left. Must be here by now.” A mischievous grin lights up his face. “Might want to stay away from her. She has her ‘don’t hurt my best friend’ speech ready to give to you.”

“Oh yeah?”

Iris is a perfect goody-two-shoes girl. Shy, reserved, and too sweet for her own good. Even Nathan hasn’t been able to taint that. Though, now I’m sensing my fiancée is handling the role of corrupting her, if his statement is anything to go by.

Just the vision of her trying to threaten me is comical.

“She was practicing with me last night,” Nathan answers with a chuckle, a soft look in his eyes. “I might have given her some pointers. Stuff that makes you cry like a pussy.”

Before I can rebut with an insult, there’s a knock on the door. It clicks open and in strolls Malcolm Archford. My former roommate and a close friend. His face aglow with his perpetual stoic expression.

For a moment, my mood darkens with past memories.

Before it drives me into misplaced rage, I shove it down and stand to greet him. “Decided to come early, your royal highness?”

His scowl deepens at the mention of his royal heritage. Although he’s far down the line to the throne. Neither of us are touchy-feely, so we settle for a fist bump like old times. He takes the other chair next to Nathan and sits.

“It’s not every day I get invited to a notorious Indian wedding. Or asked to be the groomsman.” He skims his gaze around the room, briefly glancing at the joint in Nathan’s grip before flatly taunting, “Judging by the state here, reminds me more of a frat party.”

“Careful what you ask for, Ashford,” says Nathan. “There’s still a day left. Don’t say we didn’t warn you about aunties pulling you on the dance floor.”

He visibly shudders. “I’ll pass.”

I laugh and pass him the joint.

“When are you giving up this nasty habit?” he taunts, even as he accepts it and takes a long puff himself.

“Kinda pot meet kettle, don’t you think?”

Nathan chimes in with a smug look, “Might be sooner than you think. Iris says Rosalie hates smokers.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I change for her.” My tone is icy. “She’ll learn to live with it.”

Malcolm raises his eyebrows at that. “I see.”

“What?”

“Still making her life hell?”

“Still have a soft spot for my fiancée?”

Our eyes lock in a silent battle and the arrogant bastard doesn’t deny it. Worse, I hate that I even care. It’s a matter of principle. The friend’s girl is always off-limits, even if she’s an enemy.

Rosalie will be a means to an end, nothing more.

“Jesus! Don’t tell me you fucked Rosalie, Ashford,” mutters Nathan, staring between us.

“Does it matter?” calmly answers Malcolm, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth while my jaw tics. “Nova obviously doesn’t want her.”

“Miya is here with her boyfriend.” Now it’s his turn to fume. “Remind me to introduce you two.”

“First Rosalie, now Miya,” Nathan says amusedly, diffusing the tension. “Stay away from Iris.”

“His girlfriend,” I explain when he frowns in confusion.

“Are all Indian men hopelessly in love around here?”

“You two done?” quips Nathan, checking his phone. Looking up at me, he announces, “The bride’s here.”

“Is everybody in one piece?”

His phone pings with another text. I’m guessing Iris is giving him the highlights. Because he chuckles at whatever he reads and mutters, “I don’t know about everybody but the guy about to apply mehndi on her might not be.”

“Why?” I’m instantly curious.

“He asked her your name so he could write it on her hand.”

“Like a tattoo?” questions Malcolm with intrigue.

We should hand this poor guy a handbook or he’ll be completely clueless today.

“Not a permanent one,” I reply before switching to Nathan. “What did she say?”

“Why do you care?”

“Yeah? Why do you care, Cruz?” hums Malcolm.

“Because she’s supposed to be playing the doting fiancée,” I lie.

They look at each other before bursting out in a fit of laughter, which makes my jaw grind. Their twin expression screaming I’m being delusion when they are the ones being idiots. Standing up, I storm out of the room.

“I don’t think showing your face will help,” shouts Nathan before the door slams shut.

It won’t because I’m not going to her.