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

Chapter Fifty-three

Vegas is a blast.

So lively and glitzy that I’ve been starstruck since we’ve landed. The city is a glittering jewel at night and buzzing with thrills.

Why didn’t I come here sooner? Now that I have, I tempted to stay and never leave.

The nightlife here beats anywhere I’ve vacationed so far. Since arriving yesterday, the girls and I have explored the best foods here during the day while hitting the clubs at night. Barhopping on the streets of the Strip.

My favorite was the hour we bet at the casino. Mostly, because it was my lucky night since I won. A lot. While Bianca and Iris got smug and lost half of theirs. Iris has gone on a trivia spree, regaling us with all the spots we encountered from the movie The Hangover.

She’s gone as far as to giving us the wrong directions to drive to her favorite ones.

We’ve had to hold her phone hostage after switching it off.

Bianca, who was next in charge of navigating Google Maps, since I’m the one driving the Ferrari we rented, was worse. Because she kept driving us to the shopping malls and strolling through every store to buy clothes and whatnot.

Ultimately, I had to connect the maps app to the Bluetooth in the car. Much to their dismay.

Well, if I’m not allowed to visit bookstores, neither are they allowed to enjoy their addictions.

Despite their pouts, we’re having the time of our lives.

Especially Iris, who feels right at home at the Omnia club at Caesars Palace. Our destination for tonight’s dancing and drinking. Since all of us wanted to drink and not pick a designated driver, we decided to visit the club of the hotel we’re staying at.

“One more round!” shouts Iris to the waitress in our private booth with a view of the dance floor below.

“Slow down, woman,” I mock scold her. “We have all night.”

“I’m going to kick your drunk ass if we have to leave early,” threatens Bianca. “And miss the Magic Knights show because you passed out.”

Oh, did I mention the mother hen of our group actually bought us ticket to a stripper show? With a private room for partying afterward.

“Spill it, Bee.” I squint my eyes over the rim of my dirty martini. “The bachelorette party is a front. You just wanted to watch naked men grind and thrust.”

She gasps with her hand to her heart, gaze wounded. “I am hurt by the accusation. I accidently saw the tickets for their show and, well, it’s MAGIC KNIGHTS! No sane women would say no to that. Or scroll away without taking a peek.”

“Will Channing Tatum there be?” hopefully asks Iris. Crossing her fingers, she pleads to the ceiling. I’m guessing she’s picturing God. “Please let him be there. Please. Please.”

Biting my lip, I hold back my laughter. I don’t have it in me to break the poor girl’s heart. Glancing at Bianca, I taunt, “Are you going to tell Dash after you confess you came on a secret trip to Vegas?”

“And risk not being able to sit on my ass for a week?” She shakes her head. “Hell no! And I’m not lying to him. I did tell him one day I was going to attend a strip show. I just never said when.”

“I’m sure he won’t see it that way.”

“I would’ve invited him, but I don’t think it’s his scene.”

“Or we never tell the guys.”

“I can’t keep a secret from Dash.”

“So, you’re willing to tell half a lie but not all of it?” My tone sounds incredulous. “If you confess, we’d have to confess too.”

“Stop arguing, you both!” scolds Iris over the pounding music. “We promised no talk about our husbands or boyfriends. The trip is about us, not them.”

Bianca and I glance at each other and sigh apologetically.

“You’re right,” I admit to Iris.

“Exactly.” Pointing at us, she says, “So fuck them and let’s dance.”

Our tequila shots arrive right then. With an excited grin, we each grab ours, then down them in one go. The burn has us reaching for the lemon slices.

The dance floor beckons us with its strobe lights, the fog, and electric music.

Taking the curved stairs with mirror paneling on one side, we reach the dance floor and push our way to the middle through the throng of sweaty and drunk bodies. The three of us are twinning tonight in our matching sequin minidresses. Though our colors and styles are different.

We hoot, throwing our hands in the air when the DJ shouts, raising the bass. The song turns to “Too many nights” by Metro Boomin. He’s become my go-to artist lately. Every song of his I freaking love. Closing my eyes, I roam my hands over my hips, the sides of my waist, before traveling up my breasts while slowly moving my hips to the rhythm of the beat.

One song becomes two. Two becomes three. Yet there’s no stopping us.

Guys try to approach us, one boldly grabbing my hips, but I shove him back, giving him two middle fingers, and he scurries away. Throwing my arm around Iris, who is the best dancer in our little trio, we press closer and dance together. Bianca pulls out her phone and starts recording us, cheering and singing the lyrics.

Flicking my hair back, I lift the hem of my dress a notch and circle my hips against Iris. She smirks and seductively grabs my waist. Ever so slowly, she bends low before rising up and grinding against me.

Bianca puts the phone away and joins us until we’re all hugging and screaming in happiness.

“One more song and then we have to leave,” informs Bianca, shouting in our ears.

So, we sway and laugh like no one’s watching.

Afterward, we hail a cab to the most anticipated show of our vacation. Watching chiseled and sculpted sexy men strip and dance, what woman wouldn’t be eager as hell? Plus, what kind of bachelorette would it be if there weren’t strippers?

I’m also secretly hoping that if I see other equally as handsome men, this sudden attraction I’ve felt for Nova that has me fangirling and daydreaming about him will go away. Once I realize he isn’t that special.

Magic Knights strippers better be the cure.

“Oh wow, is every single woman in the city here?” exclaims Iris, mouth gaping at the long line of women of all ages, above eighteen years, of course, waiting for entry.

“I bet.” I nod, watching a young group of girls busy taking selfies.

“Don’t worry, I got us VIP tickets. Our seats are the best,” says Bianca. Out of us all, she’s salivating to hurry inside. “With a private meet and greet in our own lounge. Come on, we don’t have to stand in line.”

Iris and I chase after her as she somehow manages to sprint in her high heels.

“Who lit a fire under your ass, Bee?” I yell after her. “We’re right on time.”

“I don’t want to miss the opening performance.”

“Jesus.”

The security guard, a handsome and hulking black man, scans the QR code of our tickets and IDs before pushing aside the velvety red rope and letting us in. The gates open with a flourish and we’re swarmed with equally enthusiastic and ecstatic women.

While shirtless men roam around the place, serving drinks to the tables as well as from behind the biggest bar I’ve ever seen.

“I’m going to remember this night till the day I die, I swear,” mumbles an awestruck Iris.

I’m grinning like a fool too. “Me too! Every man here is gorgeous.”

“We’re in heaven, ladies,” mumbles Bianca. “I mean, just look at the architecture of this place. The aesthetic. I’m convincing Dash to get lights like these for our theater room at the new house.”

“Of course you’d be drooling over the interior,” I mutter, shaking my head.

Iris jumps in saying, “It’s raining sexy men over here and she’s staring at the dumb lights.”

“I can’t help it, okay!” Bianca pouts at us. “Besides, I have an undeniably sexy man with washboard abs back home. Why would I drool over another?”

I raise one eyebrow. “You do realize we’re here at a strip show, Bee?”

“The sole purpose is to drool over them,” reminds Iris. “Or are you going to cover your eyes when they take their clothes off.”

“I’m perfectly capable of appreciating male beauty without lusting after them,” she innocently replies. “Unlike you two, Miss Soon-to-Be Singhania and Mrs. D’Cruz.”

“Smart-ass,” I taunt.

Smirking, she turns around and checks our table number before guiding us toward it. Ours is in the front row, directly in front of the big stage. It’s going to be a spectacular view. I catch a few women eyeing us with envy.

As soon as we’ve settled down, a hot and shirtless waiter approaches our table and with a charming smirk, says, “Hi, ladies, I’m Chris. I’ll be serving you. So, what’s your poison tonight?”

“You could be,” blurts out a tipsy Iris, who then slaps her palm over her mouth.

Bianca and I chuckle. So does Chris, and winks at an embarrassed Iris.

“We’d like a round of vodka shots. Then two sex on the beach cocktails and a gin and tonic for her, please.” I point at Bianca.

Chris smiles and disappears toward the bar.

“Man, if only Nathan were here,” I tease, poking Iris.

“Shut up. It was supposed to stay in my head.”

“Was it his abs you wanted to lick or something a little… lower?” Bianca wiggles her eyebrows.

“It was harmless flirting.”

Our hilarious conversation gets interrupted as all the lights go off and a hush silence falls over the room while every woman goes still and murmurs to each other. With a loud bang, blue lights brighten above the stage.

The tall silhouette of a man fills the stage, causing everyone to scream.

“Oh my god!” shouts Iris and Bianca toward the stage, clapping their hands.

Two more shadows appear behind the first man. Slowly, the shimmering lights brighten enough to give us a glimpse of their well-toned bodies encased in button-down shirts and fitted denim jeans.

The first beat of the music drops and they each take a step toward the edge of the stage. With each deep beat, they continue approaching until we can perfectly make out the tallest one in front of us.

Messy blond hair, cut cheekbones, and gym-hardened body. He’s exceptionally handsome and giving bad boy vibes. The music is replaced by the popular song “Pony” by Ginuwine.

Our eyes lock and he winks.

Then he rips off his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

“Fuck,” I curse. Despite the Adonis before me giving us his attention, all I’m picturing is Nova doing the same. While I lay naked in bed, craving his body pushing me into the mattress with his weight. His deep and raspy voice whispering the filthy deeds he’s going to do to me. Commanding me. Pounding his beautiful, pierced cock into my pussy.

I blush at the fantasy.

At the same time, I berate my stupid brain and traitorous body for ruining my grand plan of losing the effect of Nova’s hard boxer’s physique, mischievous eyes, and dirty smirk.

Has my husband ruined me for all other men?

Apparently, yes.

I can’t escape him even halfway across the world.

Somewhere during the middle of the performance, our drinks arrive and we pick ours, sipping on them. Our eyes unblinking as we stay enraptured by the sensual dance happening onstage. The way these men move their bodies, the thrusting of their hips. Each item of clothing they rip off, they fucking hold you captive.

I am riveted.

The second performance is out of this world. As their name says—magical. I’ve seen clips of the couple’s water dance, but watching it live is a whole other experience. The chemistry of the pair is so electric and hot, it raises goosebumps on my skin.

“Is it wrong of me to wish I was that girl?” whispers Iris in my ear.

“Pretty sure every guest here is.”

“Why didn’t I become a dancer?” mutters Bianca longingly.

I’m about to shout again when a few minutes later, the dancing ends. However, my demand dies. My heartbeat racing when the next two male dancers drop to the floor, cruising through the crowd, and start randomly picking women.

The second strolls in our direction and I gasp as he comes closer because it’s our waiter, Chris. I swallow because he’s coming right to our table.

“Oh shit, is he…” trails off Iris, blinking at Chris who stops in front of her.

Stretching his palm toward her, he softly asks, “Wanna be my poison for tonight?”

Bianca and I study Iris as she bites her lip, hesitating, but I see the urge to be daring in her eyes.

“Go, Iris,” I encourage her.

Bianca nudges her. “Fuck yeah, you lucky girl. Go.”

“Okay,” whispers Iris with a bright smile and takes Chris’s hand.

Then we spend the next few minutes watching our best friend get the unholiest of lap dances.