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

Chapter Twenty-nine

The color red is becoming a permanent fixture in my life.

Either it haunts me every time I picture Rosalie’s silky tresses or I’m feeling it in my veins every time another man gets close to her.

Maybe she’s right… I am her villain.

At Nathan’s amused comment, curiosity and trepidation flickers in her black orbs. Except I know she doesn’t possess a single inch of remorse in her bones. If she did, she would’ve confessed. It can only mean one thing.

She wants me to silently seethe and burn.

Or she’s waiting for the perfect moment to gut me.

Honestly, so am I. Soon, I tell myself. I’ll have her all to myself and I’ll carve out all her deepest and darkest discretions from her treacherous little heart.

“Malcolm is in dire need of a date, it seems,” I taunt like a sulking bastard. My mind is still replaying the vision of him boldly grabbing my Rose and feeling what her soft skin feels like. Not once in the last ten years have I seen Rosalie let another man get close enough to touch. Yes, she attempted to go on dates, but she always maintained a distance.

Except with Malcolm.

Almost like she subconsciously trusts him.

I study her profile, trying to gauge lust in her eyes as she looks at him and vice versa. My mood eases slightly when I find none on their faces. But the stupid jealous beast inside me is still burning hot in the cage and chanting to steal her away from the room and remind her she belongs to me.

To undo that sexy blouse of hers and let her sari spill to the floor in a heap.

Until all she’s left wearing is my ring.

Then I’m going to take my sweet time marking every delectable inch of her, every curve and dip in her sublime body with my tongue and my teeth. Until she’s painted in my stamp that leaves no doubt to the depths of her soul that she’s mine.

Very soon. The words burn in my veins.

My attention is drawn back to the present when Rosalie tenses at my tone, expecting a brawl to occur between Malcolm and me. So are Iris and Bianca. Meanwhile, Dash couldn’t look more bored, his arms protectively around his fiancée… wife?

Who fucking knows? I’ve lost both count and interest.

Rosalie opens her mouth to probe but snaps it shut when Malcolm simply smirks and shakes his head, unoffended at my mocking of him. The moody bastard never misses the chance to toy with me.

Deep inside, I know he isn’t interested in Rosalie.

A certain pixie-sized girl with a penchant for ignoring him has his mind enchanted.

It’s my deviant siren of a fiancée with wheels turning inside her head twenty-four seven that is stirring trouble that will end up with her receiving more than she bargained for.

“Stop being rude, Nova,” she scorns. My earlier threat taken with a grain of salt.

There she goes again. Her concern for Malcolm grating on my last nerves. While my best friends are looking seconds away from bursting in laughter. Very well aware of the reason I’m reacting like an obsessed psycho.

“He’s a grown man, Rose,” I reply with a shocking calmness. “He can handle it.”

“Don’t worry about me, trouble,” Malcolm says, adding fuel to the fire.

She bewitches him with a smile.

The last of my patience bursts into tatters.

Capturing her hand, I drag her out of the little circle. The lot of them wearing a variety of emotions. Mostly amusement at my expense. Although, Dash senses the storm brewing in my head. After all, last year I witnessed a similar interaction at Bianca and his reception where he went berserk after catching another man merely dancing with Bianca.

“Excuse us,” I grit out.

I’ve only taken a step when yet again another waiter trips. This time, slamming into me and pouring a plate full of food all over my Tom Ford loafers. Some of it splashing on the ends of my pants.

What kind of caterer has been hired, for fuck’s sake? Are they all incompetent?

Luckily, Rosalie is saved because I pushed her behind me at the last second.

“Where the fuck is your manager?” I growl to the trembling waiter, who passes tissue paper with shivering hands.

“Nova,” murmurs Rosalie cautiously as she grabs my arm.

“What?”

Her gaze skirts to the poor guy before whispering to me, “You’ll get him fired.”

“He should be.”

“Let it go.”

“Please, sir. I’m so sorry,” the guy pleads. “It won’t happen again.”

“Nova.” Rosalie stares with a soft expression I’ve never been bestowed with.

The anger twists into calmness with that one look and without glancing away, I say to the waiter, “Go away.”

With an apology and show of gratitude, he skedaddles.

“Thank you,” Rosalie mumbles before looking at the mess. “You should go change.”

“You’re coming with me,” I say before she has a chance to bolt.

Her nose puckers cutely. “Don’t know how to lace your shoes?”

“Or maybe I’m just hoping for a glimpse of you kneeling for me.”

The rosiness on her cheeks deepens. “While you’re in there, might want to wash your mouth too. Since it’s uttered nothing but filth this evening.”

“Rose.” My tone is low and rough as I capture her chin. “The same filth gets your pussy wet, your nipples hard, and your eyes glazed with lust. The same filth you read all day long and every night in bed while wearing the most innocent expression, only I know of its true depth.” Sliding my grip to her throat, uncaring of the eyes on us, I wickedly promise, “When, not if, I have you pinned naked underneath me, I’ll show you what being filthy means. What you know till now will look like child’s play. I’m going to have you addicted to my brand of filth, sweetheart.”

Taking ahold of her delicate wrist, I drag us out of the ballroom toward my suite. She’s too stunned to do anything but lower her head in shyness and mutely follow.

We’re halfway to my room when she gets her bearing and sharply looks up. “Do you really need me here?”

“You can entertain me while I change.”

“Annoy your best man with your demands.”

“Where’s the grave concern you were greedily giving to another man but can’t muster for your husband?”

“That another man is your closest friend.”

“Exactly, he’s mine and not yours.”

“Maybe we became really close while I was in London,” she casually counters with a hidden meaning just as we reach my door.

Unlocking it with my key, I tug her inside when she lamely attempts to push her feet into the ground. Her tempting tits shake with the momentum, making my mouth water. Alone without anyone to disturb us, I swallow the groan that rises from deep within my chest as I drag my gaze down her lithe form.

Every inch of her is toned to perfection.

She could give any top model a run for her money. Dead or alive.

Locking the door, I cage her against it. Desperate for a teasing glimpse, I lower my hand to her flat stomach and hook my finger in her pallu, inching it aside until I’m staring at the tiny sparkling jewel.

Fuck, how I want to bite it. Take it between my teeth and pull. Torture her like she tortures me and make her cunt weep with that single touch.

I decide I’m going to get a diamond for her piercing to match the ring on her finger.

“Did you get me alone to ogle?” she whispers in annoyance, but the hitch in her breath gives her away.

Such a desperate little thing, starving for touch.

“You’d sound more convincing if you were slapping my hand away.” Circling around her belly button, I meet her gaze. “Which you never do.”

With a glare, she does.

“It defeats the purpose if I have to remind you, Rose.”

Backing away, I turn and go to my bedroom. I hide my smirk when she follows hot on my heels and into the closet where I go to pull out another suit. She wouldn’t leave letting me have the last word.

“How about you keep your hands to yourself?” she retorts. “Or is your brain too weak to take the signal?”

“My brain works perfectly,” I answer before sitting on my bed. “Yours is the defected one that lets me have free rein to touch you all over.”

Removing my ruined shoes and socks, I pad barefoot to the attached bathroom. Again, she strolls in and hovers in the doorway.

“I think I liked you better when you were ignoring me.”

“Ever wondered why?” The edge in my voice is unmistakable.

“Was there a specific reason other than you hating me?”

“You tell me.”

“It will imply that I care, which I don’t.”

“You cared enough to point it out,” I bluntly point out. “Which means a part of you felt hurt when I pretended you didn’t exist. And I’ll tell you why.” Crossing over to her, I lean into her face and harshly confess, “It’s because we’re destructive together. I thought you brought out my worst qualities. Turns out, I bring out your vindictive streak too.”

“I’ve done nothing against you to deserve your treatment over the years.”

“Haven’t you, though, Rose?”

Hesitancy flickers in her black eyes and yet she lies, “No.”

“You fucked Malcolm.”

She reels back in shock which slowly switches to dread and then hardens into an unapologetic and unregretful expression. Yet a part of me waits for her denial.

I chuckle humorlessly when she doesn’t and steel my face into impassiveness.

Because my wrath will scare her.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“How?” she whispers.

“I’ll recognize your flaming red hair and maroon lips anywhere. They’ve haunted me since the first time I laid eyes on them. So much that they’ve burned into my psyche.”

Searching my face, whatever she sees has her muttering, “I don’t belong to you, Nova. You have no right to be upset if I slept with another man. Not when you’ve been doing the same, sleeping with other women. Not when you’ve sabotaged and made sure to not let another man within an inch of me.”

“And yet you could’ve picked any other man that night but you chose him. It might not have been to upset me but it sure as fuck was to spite me. You want nothing to do with me but your actions have always been in retaliation to mine. Malcolm was no different.”

She swallows and shakes her head. “It’s… it’s not true.”

“He may have claimed your body, Rose, but I’m going to own your mind and your soul.”

Straightening, I slam the door in her beautifully scared face.

Willing my rage to lessen, I stare at my reflection while trying to forget the stabbing memory of hearing her scream Malcolm’s name.

That single shout has been my biggest nightmare for the past eight years.

It was in that moment I knew Rosalie Kapoor has sunk way deeper in my veins than I imagined. That she may very well be my downfall.

If I let her.

***

Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in a new suit and yank open my door.

Except it doesn’t budge.

Irritated, I pull again harder and I’m met with resistance.

“Damn you, little hellion,” I mutter. She fucking locked me in. I should’ve known. I obviously haven’t learned my lesson from the time she cuffed me when we were alone.

New priority task—get rid of all the locks in my house.

Probably should add insurance too.

God knows, what creative ways she’ll come up with to wreck my place every time I piss her off. Which is always.

Thank fuck, I have my phone with me unlike the last time. Or I’d be wasting my energy breaking this door down, which opens on the outside. Taking it out from my pocket, I grudgingly dial Nathan’s number. The prick is going to be smug.

I’m never living this one down.

He picks up on the first ring and demands, “Where the hell are you? Rosa came downstairs a while back and disappeared with Iris and Bianca. Their expressions screamed cats who ate the canary.”

“Come upstairs.”

He goes quiet and suspiciously asks, “Why?”

“I’m stuck.”

“Stuck?”

I heave a sigh and rub at my eye. “She locked me inside the bathroom.”

“She what?” He chuckles hard on the other end. “Priceless.”

“Just get your fucking ass up here.” I hang up and pace in the bathroom.

After almost another fifteen minutes, two sets of footsteps stop outside the door and unlock it. I yank it open and am immediately greeted with twin sets of amused expressions. It’s Malcolm who speaks up.

“How the hell do you always end up locked or cuffed when left alone with her?”

Shoving past them, I stroll into the closet to get a new pair of shoes. Unperturbed by my livid expression, they follow in and Nathan leans against the door before beginning to count with his fingers.

“So far, Rosalie has set your car on fire and almost killed you, cuffed you so you almost missed your graduation, and tonight, locked you in the bathroom.” With a grin, he snickers, “Your days are numbered, my friend.”

“Or he secretly loves her crazy side,” muses Malcolm.

“Did you borrow my shoes?” I ask Nathan, ignoring his observation.

“No.”

I search every shelf and nook again, finding no footwear. As if they vanished into thin air. Understanding dawns on me and I shake my head, grinning. Meeting Nathan’s quizzical gaze, I ask, “Did either Bianca or Iris follow us?”

“They went to the restroom immediately after you and Rosalie left.”

“Why are you barefoot?” Malcolm questions with a frown.

“Because my bride and her little army stole my shoes.” They took every single pair, including the slippers provided by the hotel.

“Why?”

“Oh fuck,” curses Nathan impressively.

“This wedding is becoming weirder by the minute,” grumbles Malcolm in a flat tone.

“Just one of the entertaining games of the wedding,” Nathan explains, slapping him on the back. “One that is likely to leave our Nova bankrupt.”

“Stupid tradition.”

Nathan grins. “You better have brought a lot of cash. I’m guessing you’ll be paying interest for all the trouble you’ve caused Rosalie.”

“What exactly is about to happen?” asks Malcolm.

“The bridesmaid and the sister of the bride steal the groom’s shoes in exchange for money or whatever their greedy hearts desire. The groom has to pay, no matter what. Though he can negotiate.”

“You were supposed to be watching out, you idiot.”

“I had a more pressing priority. Like making sure you make it to the altar alive.”

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at that too.”

“Fuck off.”

Raising my middle finger, I huff, “Let’s get this over with.”

It doesn’t take us more than a few minutes to find our thieves because the lot of them stand outside the ballroom’s entrance, wearing proud grins. Iris gives a small smirk to Nathan, making me question he might secretly be in on it with them, playing a double agent.

Stopping before them, I shove my hands in my pockets. Rosalie wisely keeps her eyes averted from Malcolm’s direction while not meeting my gaze either. I pull my eyes away from her, which takes herculean effort, and focus on Jasmine, who steps forward.

“Name your price, girls.”

“A million dollars.”

Easy.

“Each.”

It’s like they’re not even trying.

Jasmine and the others stare with matching smug smirks, thinking they’ve caught me in a trap. They’re betting more on the fact I’ll say no.

Behind me, Nathan mumbles, “The shoes aren’t even worth that much.”

“He could just buy a new pair,” quips Malcolm.

“Only if he wants to be called a cheapskate for the rest of his life.” Arching one eyebrow at me, Jasmine questions, “What’s it going to be, Nova?”

“If I say no?”

“Then next we’ll steal Rosa,” softly threatens Iris. “No Rosa, no wedding.”

As if I’ll ever let it happen. I’ll chase her to the ends of the earth and drag her back to the altar and make her my wife. I’ve had a taste of her hate and it’s now my favorite flavor. My drug of choice.

“She’s priceless and mine,” I darkly lay my claim, staring right at my obsession. “There’s no stealing her.”

Meeting Jasmine’s stunned face as if she’s truly seeing me for the first time, I insert my hand in my suit jacket’s inside pocket and hand her the signed check I brought with me.

“It should be enough.”

She peers down and her gaze goes wide as saucers as she gasps, “It’s… blank.”

“Can’t risk being called a cheapskate now, can I?”

They all gape with their mouths open.

“The shoes,” I demand.

They shift to the side until I see the box they hid behind them. Grabbing it, I leave them with their bribe.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.