Hateful Games: (An arranged marriage billionaire romance) (Arranged Games Book 2)
Chapter 14

Either I’m dead.

Or I’ve become a hollow man.

A long time ago, I would’ve preferred it. But not today.

Because I definitely don’t exist to Rosalie from the way she’s ignoring me since the fiasco last night. I shouldn’t give a flying fuck. Yet for the last half hour after taking the quickest shower in history, I’ve been glaring at the pair in the kitchen acting all cozy.

The moment I returned from my morning run, I found my little hellion creating chaos first thing in the morning. My closest friend and roommate, Malcolm, all too willing to be her sidekick.

Apparently, she even slept in his bedroom last night.

While he took the couch.

And a gentleman, he is not.

We are supposed to leave in an hour for our graduation ceremony and I should go about getting ready. My feet have other ideas because I can’t get them to move. I silently seethe, watching from my perch on the couch as Malcolm cooks her breakfast. While the TV runs in the background.

Twice now, he’s done it.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s trying to impress or seduce her.

My bet is on him pissing me off for no other reason but because it amuses him.

I catch the soft and breathy sound of her giggling at something he says, which has me grinding my teeth. Rosa doesn’t giggle nor does she play silly little girly games. Period. All she has in her repertoire are glares, looks of indifference, and little smirks that say something murderous is churning in her pretty little head.

Not once did I see her crack a smile in high school.

Except maybe one or two times around her best friend, Bianca.

She assumes I wasn’t aware of her growing up. Of course I was. She was my nemesis’s daughter. The one girl in the school who didn’t hover around me like a butterfly, demanding my attention. I only pretended Rosalie didn’t exist to me.

Much like the way she’s doing now.

The taste of my own medicine is bitter.

I was accusing her of acting like a child yesterday, and now I’m the one sulking. Fucking irony is a cruel bitch.

I feel a vein throbbing in my forehead when their hands touch for a fraction of a second as Rosalie passes something to him. The black tank top she’s wearing leaves nothing to the imagination. Her hard nipples play peek-a-boo behind her naturally straight hair, slightly curled from sleep.

I’m seconds away from clocking Malcolm in the jaw if he drops his gaze below her neck. Strike that—below her eyes.

While I possessively drag mine over every inch of her.

For whatever reason, she makes me feel possessive and deranged. Whether she likes it or not, I’ve decided she’s mine.

Mine to own. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin.

Mine.

My cock is all too pleased with claiming her. It stands to attention when she hops on the kitchen island, causing her tiny shorts to ride dangerously high up her thighs. They might as well be her panties. Her braless tits jiggle, causing my dick to throb at the image of sliding it between them. They’re the perfect size, big enough for my mouth to swallow one whole.

Fortunately, Malcolm’s back is to her as he faces the stove. So, he doesn’t get the tempting view I do.

It’s a testament to my will that I haven’t dragged her away from him, covered in clothes that actually fit and are ugly as hell, and then lock her in my bedroom.

As if she can feel the heat of my gaze, she crosses her legs without turning her head toward me. Her indifferent attitude grating on my nerves. I would take her biting and hitting me any day over this annoying façade.

I never lose control or let anyone get to me. Yet at this moment, I’m a ticking time bomb, seconds away from destroying my surroundings.

However, I’m also curious to see how long she thinks she can ignore me.

I don’t plan to make it easy on her.

She will eventually need to talk to me. After all, there’s still a day left until she leaves to return home.

Last night, I gave her an ultimatum.

Not because I wanted the front-row seat to her playing house with my friend.

She’s blatantly disregarding and following with her threat. Maybe I was harsh and blunt, but she needs to realize that being my fiancée comes with conditions and a reputation to uphold. I cannot allow her to make a fool out of me or my family’s name.

My jaw tics when Rosalie grazes her fingertips down Malcolm’s forearm when he slides her the plate of breakfast, topped with fruits that I didn’t know we had.

“Thanks, Malcolm. Looks delicious,” she softly compliments and does not let go of his arm.

I see black.

Malcolm doesn’t miss the gesture and makes the mistake of dropping his gaze to her lips. Before he can lower it even an inch further, I’m across the room and ripping them apart.

“Eyes and hands. Off. My. Fiancée.”

The cocky prick smirks at my enraged expression.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters for my ears only before striding out of our view.

Rosalie, who’s on a mission to turn me into an unhinged psychopath, quietly grabs her plate and tries to move to the couch I vacated. She doesn’t even pay me so much as a glance at my display of possessiveness.

Like it’s an everyday occurrence.

Or is completely inconsequential to her.

Striding after her before she can sit her ass down, I tug the plate out of her grip and grab her hand to pull her in the direction of my bedroom. She resists, pushing her feet into the ground.

I turn and throw her over my shoulder with one arm around her waist.

Still, she continues her silent treatment.

No insult. No threat. No fucking fists punching me in the back.

Flinging open my bedroom door, I dump her on the bed. She bounces on the covers, pushing her hair back. Then regally sits with her chin held high, expression serene as if she’s a queen sitting on a throne.

I don’t immediately give her, her breakfast back, making her gaze skitter to it once impatiently. During her stay, I’ve learned my future wife is a foodie. She’s tried more cuisines and restaurants in the last week than I have in my three years here.

I’m half tempted to leave her hungry until she begs me, but I remember we have a long day ahead of us. And I’m already running late.

She thinks she’s won the battle when I put the plate on the bed.

It’s in the way her eyes glimmer. Though, she tries her best to act unbothered.

Turning around, I stride toward her suitcases in the corner and start to unzip them. I check each one. There are six freaking suitcases now and they are all filled to the brim. Although she only came with four.

I have to commend her dedication because she still doesn’t utter a word.

Although I can feel her agitation and the daggers she shoots with her eyes at my back.

I finally replace what I’m searching for, hidden underneath a pile of her black dresses, and straighten after zipping up her bags. Crossing the distance back to her, I wave in front of her face what I’m holding.

Her latest book porn.

The cover is discreet with flowers and rings, giving the illusion of something boring and innocent inside. She’s also halfway done with it. I open the page earmarked and lift one eyebrow at her when I read the first few lines, explaining very vividly how the man is eating his stepdaughter’s pussy on his office desk.

“My, my, Rose.”

Her cheeks turn a dark shade of red, even as she boldly holds my stare. Stubbornly remaining quiet, I watch her become flustered and squirm in her spot. While I skim the next few pages until the filthy-as-fuck scene is over and the heroine has come twice.

My dick is hard just imagining doing this word for word to Rose.

My mind travels back to the day I sneaked into her bedroom and read her book aloud. The way it caused her nipples to harden, even as my presence made her mad. I’m tempted to recreate the memory but I’m afraid I won’t be able to help myself from taking a bite. An addictive taste. Because no way my Rose doesn’t taste sweet.

Or potentially risk losing my dick.

“One hell of a scene to stop at.”

She pretends to check her nails, ignoring me.

“Want me to read it while you finish your breakfast?”

She looks away, as if it’ll make me magically disappear.

“Or would you rather I burn it too?”

Still no answer.

I slam her book shut and lean toward my bedside table. Yanking open the top drawer, I pull out my lighter. I have no intention of destroying yet another one of her precious books, I just want her to fight back.

I’m not giving up until she does, even if I have to miss my graduation.

“Say goodbye, Rose.” I flick the lighter open until flames lick the air.

Her challenging eyes whip to mine as she leans back and flicks her chin. “Go ahead. I’ll just buy another.”

Her mask slips.

I smile.

She realizes what she just did.

Lowering my hand, I throw the book on her lap and lean over her. She freezes with my fists caging her in. When she attempts to shift backward, I grab her wrist and tug her even closer. Fisting her tank top in the middle, I twist and keep her captive beneath my upper body.

Her pupils dilate, her breathing slowing down while her juicy lips part.

“Ignore me and I won’t stop until I have your full attention by any means necessary.”

Letting ago after grazing her skin peeking above her tiny short’s waistband, I stand straight. Cursing under her breath, she pulls down her tank top. But forgets that it gives me a spectacular view of her cleavage. I run my tongue over my teeth while unabashedly staring at them.

Catching my attention, she snatches the comforter and pulls it up to her neck. Her plate barely misses from crashing to the floor.

“Finish your breakfast,” I command. “I’m going for a shower and your ass better be here in my bed, reading your book, when I return. Then you’re getting ready because you’re coming with me. Pick something that doesn’t give every man in the vicinity the view of your hard nipples. I’d hate to begin my day with a bloodbath.”

“Bark your orders at someone else,” she snaps. “I’m going nowhere. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Then change it again.” My tone conveys my patience is running out. “Or I’m going to change you into a dress myself and proceed to drive to the ceremony with your defiant ass in the trunk of my car.”

Her mouth opens to throw some more sass but I cut her off. “You have ten minutes.”

Whipping off my shirt, I turn around and stroll to the bathroom. Inside, I switch on the showerhead and without warning, I go back out. Just in time to see Rosalie’s ass hightailing it out of my room on tippy-toes.

In two quick strides, I reach her and she yelps when I pick her up around the waist.

“Have it your way, little hellion,” I calmly state. Her pointy nails dig into my arms, leaving scratch marks I would rather have on my back from pounding into her hard and fast.

“God! I fucking hate you!”

Dumping her on the bed near the headboard, I hold her down and quickly pull out the perfect device from my nightstand. She’s too distracted with pulling away that she doesn’t notice until the clicking sound echoes.

I cuff her left wrist to the headboard and stand back to admire my handiwork.

“There. Perfect,” I mumble, throwing the key in the air before catching it in my palm.

“Are you mad?” she shouts, tugging at the restraint. “Uncuff me right now.”

I stride back into the bathroom with the key in hand.

“Nova!”

Her furious cry disappears when I slam the door shut behind me. An exhilarating rush courses through my body as I fight back a grin. Sparring with her is far more powerful and thrilling than spending hours in a gym. The flux of endorphins way more intoxicating than anything.

Nonetheless, nothing will change my end goal.

However, that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little distraction every now and then.

Have a taste of the forbidden fruit.

Because in our tale, it’s not Adam who’ll suffer.