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

Chapter sixty-one

The locations are always discreet.

Unexpected.

Often public.

Tonight, it’s a secret maze hidden above a dark, loud, and lively nightclub. With my name already on the guest list, courtesy of The Provocative Playground, I’m allowed inside. I arrive early with half an hour to go. Instead of escaping up the flight of roped-off stairs to the private booths upstairs, I shove past the crowd to the swamped bar.

A single drink won’t hurt.

Somehow past the drunken group of teen girls, who obviously fooled the security guard, I catch the attention of the bartender. A sweaty mess yet still handsome, he makes his way over.

“A cranberry vodka, please.”

Unlike Bianca, I cannot handle hard liquor and need something fruity mixed with it. The moment the bartender serves me my drink, I take a sip and slide onto the vacated barstool. Glancing around the bodies dancing, I try hard to not let my thoughts drift to Nova.

My freedom—how little it may be—is very important to me.

It’s the sole reason I’m struggling with Nova’s intentions. I’m giving him an inch; he’s vying for a mile and then some. He doesn’t realize the heartbreak I’m saving him from.

He says we’re for eternity.

We aren’t.

We’re each other’s ruination.

We can fool ourselves for a little while but the truth remains. We were meant to be rivals and we’ll always be.

Downing the drink in single go, I place the empty glass on the counter and walk toward the private stairs leading to the top floor. Down the hallway on the left, there’s an unmarked door leading to the maze.

The hunting ground for tonight.

The prey—me.

With each step, my heart climbs up my throat and it begins to pound harder once I stop before the black door. Strange yet not, the hall is deserted and no one barges in, telling me it’s off-limits.

It creaks when I open over the vibrating noise of the music below.

My heels click when I cross the threshold.

It’s pitch black.

I encounter another set of short flights. My hand on the banister, I ascend using the flashlight on my phone. Bringing it was both a necessity and a mistake. Just as I reach the top floor, I decide to hide it on the floor in a corner.

Risky but better than to lose it in the throes of action.

“Hello,” I call out, not expecting a response.

But I know he’s here.

My masked predator.

I paint a fantasy in my head, to submerge myself into the scene. I came for a night out with my friends but found myself lost and taking a wrong turn. Ending into a secret maze full of danger with no way ou—

Slam!

A low yelp slips past my lips at the harsh sound. With my hand pressed to my chest, I realize it’s the downstairs door being closed. But I already did that. Does that mean someone came to check? Did they lock it? It wasn’t mentioned in the rules.

Rushing back down, I twist the knob and pull.

It doesn’t budge.

“What the hell?” I mutter. Never in the last seven years was I locked in. The door is always left unlocked to make a quiet exit. It looks like it locks from the outside. Which is bad for me.

I swallow the bubbling panic.

Knocking won’t work because over the music, there’s no chance of my voice reaching. Suddenly, I’m regretting stepping foot outside of the suite. Climbing upstairs, I bend to grab my phone.

Full-blown panic returns.

It’s gone.

“Please, no,” I whisper, frantically searching all over the floor. It was my last hope. On their site, there’s an option to end the play at any time. Now, I can’t. Or even call Nova to come get me. Taking a deep breath, I focus on a way out.

A shadow on my right moves.

Causing my heart to lurch in fright.

“Whoever you are, I’ve changed my mind,” I shout. “I’m not playing,”

Again, no response.

Pressing my palm against the wall for guidance, I quietly walk deeper while hoping to find another exit. There has to be one. I don’t even entertain any other possibilities. Heart pounding, palms sweating, I’m only a few feet ahead when fingers brush against my back.

“Ahh!” I scream, whipping around.

Empty air greets me.

“I said I’m not playing!” I growl in frustration.

Confident footsteps sound in the distance, where I see soft light peeking in over the floorboard. Hope flares that it’s an exit, and I run toward it. In my hurry, though, I forget I’m wearing heels that give me away.

Just as my fingers brush the knob, a heavy arm locks around my waist and yanks me away from freedom. I buck and yell, “No!”

I’m pushed in the opposite direction.

Deeper into the maze.

Driven by adrenaline and a heavy dose of fear, I race ahead. Him chasing after me with unhurried steps. The sinister energy rolling off him in waves. It leaves me frightened. But my brain, conditioned to feel arousal, doesn’t sense the eminent danger.

Why the hell is it so dark?

My eyes find it difficult to adjust.

Every now and then, I hear the screams and hoots from the people dancing below. The vibrations and thumping of the music. So close yet too far to hear my cries for help. My right hand connects with another doorknob and it unlocks.

Stepping inside, it’s vacant with no furniture with low lightening. I see the ceiling and I’m in some sort of a manufacturing plant or a basement with cylindrical pipelines running back and forth.

It’s eerie.

A second too long which I spend studying the room turns fatal when I sense the man’s body heat behind my back a little too late. Strong hands span my waist and pick me up in the air. Their grip doesn’t loosen even as I scratch at the skin without mercy.

“Let me go!”

“Not so soon.”

His voice is so low that I almost don’t hear it. Does he think my fright is part of the cat-and-mouse game we’re playing? I struggle harder until the stranger drops me back down. I whirl around and swallow the gasp at the sight of the white Ghostface mask with hollow black eyes and elongated mouth. His face is completely covered. A black hood is pulled over his head but there’s no mistaking his powerful body beneath the zipped-up jacket and black washed-out denim. I’m no match for this beast.

A scream traps in my throat.

Even as my pussy dampens.

Two contrasting emotions fighting for dominance. I back away and slam into the wall. Wetting my dry lips, I whisper, “I want to leave. Back away.”

His head tilts. “Not the safe word.”

His throaty murmur—still too low to give away his real voice—momentarily distracts me. Slowly, my jumbled brain processes his words. Shit. In my haste, I completely forgot to read the invite. He mistakes my silence for the opposite and closes in on me.

I’m frozen.

A deer caught in the headlights.

“Run.”

I don’t. Instead, I blurt out like it’ll save me, “I’m married.”

Undeterred, he bends down inches from my mouth and repeats, “Run.”

He slaps his palms above my head. With a shriek, I duck underneath him and dash down the hallway. Looking over my shoulder, I see him simply strolling in my direction casually with the confidence of a man who knows his sacrificial lamb is trapped.

The creepy yet sexy Ghostface mask taunting me.

Scaring me.

Daring me.

Speeding as fast as possible, I slip into another closet-sized room. Just two more hours I need to evade him and then I’ll be free to escape. Shucking my annoying heels which give me away, I shove them into a corner and duck out into the deserted hall.

He’s nowhere.

I hear a humming. At first, I assume it’s from the DJ below but then I recognize what it is.

He’s whistling.

His nonchalance and arrogance knowing no bounds. I move in the opposite direction, intending to search for a place to hide in or find the room where I saw the light creeping in. Barefoot, stomach in knots, I walk straight ahead while looking left and right. Looking for signs of him appearing out of thin air.

A year ago, a scary man like him would’ve excited me.

Every partner of mine over the past was brutish and domineering in their own right. It’s what made me keep coming back for more. I loved being treated like I wasn’t breakable and it was exhilarating.

I relived the night over and over until the next time.

The room I saw earlier enters my line of sight. Relieved and finding the coast clear, I make a beeline and twist the knob. More colorful strobe lights filter in. A smile spreading on my lips.

“Not so fast,” a taunting voice murmurs in my ear.

My captor’s hand seals over mine and applying force, he shuts the door in my face. With it, snatching away my hope. Whipping me around until he fills my vision with his white mask, I’m slammed against the nearest wall.

My breath whooshing out of my lungs.

“Yay! You caught me!” I retort sarcastically. “Now let me go! Sex isn’t on the cards for you tonight.”

My sarcasm is met with silence.

Taking my wrists, he stretches them over my head and presses himself against my trembling body. Real fear that I might’ve signed up for more than I bargained slowly creeps in. My limbs feel frozen, like my brain can’t quite take commands.

His tall frame reminding me of Nova.

Without my heels, I reach the top of his shoulders.

Am I really wishing for my husband to replace the man before me? I must be losing my mind. I’m yanked from my mental dilemma when the stranger’s fingers ghost over my jaw, down the middle of my throat as I swallow nervously.

Just before they reach the top of my cleavage, I aim a kick between his legs.

I’m too slow. He anticipates the move and dodges, but his grip slips—or maybe he did on purpose. Whatever the reason, I shove against his steel chest and run away.

His boots thud loudly.

I look back and this time he is pursuing me.

It’s like being chased by a ghost.

I quicken my pace, my hair flying in my face and only my harsh breathing echoing around. My gait falters when I stare behind and he’s vanished again. The evil game he’s playing is getting to me.

“Fuck!” I curse, slamming into a brick wall.

The force of it toppling me over and my fingers catch on air as I seek purchase. Before I can fall on my ass, familiar hands grab my wrists and pull me flush against a steadily breathing chest.

“You!” I gasp, realizing it wasn’t a wall I smacked into. I struggle when my tormentor effortlessly lifts me up. Forcing me to wrap my legs around his lean waist, lest I fall. “Why are you doing this? I told you I don’t want you.”

It’s like he knows every nook and cranny.

Expertly catching me off guard.

Wrestling my hands, they’re held hostage.

Next, he punishingly twists my nipple through the thin material of my top. It hurts like hell. He gives the same treatment to the neglected nub.

“Please!” A single tear falls down my cheek. “Stop!”

His hard length presses right against my pussy as I squirm fruitlessly. I’m fucking confused when my body doesn’t immediately repulse at another man’s cock against me, someone who’s not my Nova. Am I that sick and disturbed in the head to be attracted to a strange man?

That I can’t sense right from wrong.

The conclusion I might be is what causes me to renew my struggle harder. An urgency to get his hands off me.

Clarity like never before bleeds into my blood, to the depths of my soul, until I can no longer deny it.

I want Nova.

My villainous husband.

I need him.

“Let me go!” I scream in his face, bucking my body. “Stop! Red! I’m fucking serious. I am not yours!”

I’m thrashing so hard and violently that he has no choice but to relent this grip. As soon as I’m free, I slap at his chest. Through blurry eyes, the white mask taunts me and with an angry swipe, I pull it off his face.

So I can remember his features when I come for him for scaring the hell out—

My inner screaming, along with my physical fight, dies a rapid death when I gaze into a familiar pool of dark chocolate brown eyes. The bane of all my nightmares and dreams.

Am I hallucinating?

“Nova,” I hoarsely cry out.

A heady potion of stark relief and shock filters in over the thundering of my heart.

Breath leaving in a rush, mind foggy, I gulp at the sight of him and stare between him and the mask thrown to the side.

Did he follow me?

Trace my phone?

I can’t seem to care about anything other than he’s here, not some man I was going to regret ever wanting in the first place. It’s official.

Nova D’Cruz has absolutely ruined me for every single man.

The way he promised.

“You’re here,” I whisper, cupping his chiseled face.

“Always up to trouble,” he darkly taunts, gaze devoid of their signature cockiness. Swiping my tear away, he presses his wet thumb against my parted lips. “Whatever am I going to do with you, little hellion?”