Hateful Games: (An arranged marriage billionaire romance) (Arranged Games Book 2)
Chapter 47

My secret is out.

One I haven’t told a single soul.

Call it lack of confidence or fear of society’s judgement but I never found the courage to publicly reveal myself as the face behind my penname ‘Rose’. The author who writes dark, spicy romance.

Everyone assumes I don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone.

But like every girl, I have my insecurities too.

Sex is already considered as a taboo and shameful subject in our country. Women are made to feel they shouldn’t discuss it, let alone voice their desires. The ones who do replace courage and are bold enough need to have thick skin when immature and sexist jokes are made. Or they’re simply told it goes against our values or culture. It takes a split second for people to look down on you if you even hint at being a sexual person.

People actually forget Indians have written the Kama Sutra.

We might live in the twenty-first century, but there’s still a stigma and regressive thinking that dictates how women should behave or live. If it ever got out among my family or friends that I write erotic romance, I’d be a laughingstock everywhere. It’d nothing compared to facing my dad’s wrath. It makes me shudder in fear.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve published over eight books and am blessed with a successful career that makes me more than enough money to not depend on my father. Something always held me back.

I hate that I fear being judged.

I hate that I’m hiding.

I hate that I’m scared.

Most of all, I hate that I’m not as strong as the women I write.

I wish people understood that there’s more to romance books than just dirty sex. There’re emotions, there’s connection and love, thrill and mystery. Agony and healing. Words escape me to explain what writing and reading means to me.

To some, it’s their safe space. A way to forget the worries for a while. Hence, I made myself happy with writing anonymously.

Until I got caught tonight.

Of course, Nova had to be the one to uncover my secret.

I swallow against his fierce chocolate eyes and twist in his hold. I don’t make it anywhere.

“Answer me,” he softly probes, brushing my bottom lip.

I lick my lips, catching his thumb. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I?” I scoff. “You’re always making fun of my reading choices, calling it book porn. Did you really expect me to go, ‘Oh hey, by the way, I write it too’, huh?”

He has the decency to look apologetic. A quality I didn’t think he possessed. “How long have you been writing?”

“I’m not discussing it with you.”

His head tilts. “You know that won’t stop me from learning everything. I’d rather hear it from you.”

My heart beats faster. My palms sweat as I hold the desk behind me. While the urge to run away consumes me. I haven’t talked to anyone about this, not even my best friends, and he wants me to bare it all to him. I’m a mixed bag of emotions. Nervous, shy, and mad. Strangely, not awkward like I usually feel when someone asks what I do for work.

Does he genuinely want to know or is it his need for control?

“I published my first book when I was nineteen.”

“By yourself?”

“I borrowed money from Mom, but yeah, the rest I figured out on my own,” I answer. “I was a part of various publishing and author groups. So, I wasn’t completely clueless.”

Utter shock spreads across his face and he looks lost for words.

Have I made the mighty Nova D’Cruz speechless?

“That’s an amazing accomplishment, Rose,” he proudly says, a genuine smile curving his lips. A perplexed frown replaces it as he asks, “But why are you keeping it a secret?”

Now, I’m at a loss for words. Because how do I explain it to a man who wears arrogance and confidence like a second skin? I’ve witnessed firsthand the way he conducts his business when I used to be his assistant. He’s so imposing and arresting.

“I’m not ready,” I lie.

I wait for him to scoff and confront me, but he amazes me by instead asking, “Does this mean I’m the only one you’ve told?”

“You spied on me,” I sharply accuse.

“And you chose my nickname for you as the penname.” His tone is so smug. Like the cat who ate the canary. “I’d like to think I helped.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you would.”

“I’m kidding.” He chuckles in a husky note. Then cups my face, staring deeply into my eyes. “It’s all you, and you should be proud. As for why you’re hiding it, I’m going to make you tell me the truth. No matter how long it takes. And the reason better not be related to your asshole father.”

Before I have a chance to react, he steals a close-mouthed kiss. Pulling back, he murmurs against my lips, “My wife is so talented and I didn’t even know.”

My traitorous heart reacts by softening at his husky words. When he says stuff like this, my defenses crumble and I almost believe he likes me.

Only to remember he’s the world biggest manipulator and a liar.

Making my happiness deflate like a popped balloon. I toughen my walls and keep my face impassive. When he steps back, I reach for my book and I glare when he pulls it out of reach again.

Tapping his fingers on the front cover, he says, “I’ll be reading this tomorrow.”

Leaving my mouth gaping, he hightails it out of the room. I’m left staring at his naked back, rippling with muscles. Then it hits me like a freight train.

He’s going to read my book!

Not a stranger.

My husband.

***

I got zero sleep last night.

My word count for yesterday was less than a thousand. The lowest ever for when I’m deep in my writing cave. All because I was distracted and a nervous wreck about Nova having his hands on my latest release. The first book in a standalone series.

Writing has always been personal to me.

I leave a part of myself in each book.

To have another person read it is like baring my soul one layer at a time. Sharing it with someone close to you is a thousand times scarier than with strangers. And Nova—he comes in neither category.

So, my anxiety is at an all-time high.

I even fruitlessly tried to search for the copy in the bedroom while he was asleep after I came back to bed. But he had smartly hid it. Dejected, I fell asleep and made sure to keep Fire and Maggie as a wall between us.

Since I’ve formed a very deathly habit of snuggling with him.

When morning came, the asshole made sure I saw my novel in his hand as he left for the office.

After setting me on the chair like a child and feeding me breakfast. I couldn’t put up a fight because our cook, Tanu, was right there. I couldn’t be rude to her. Although, Nova saw it as a victory and under the same pretense, kissed me and left with a skip in his step.

He broke my two-day winning streak.

Once I was alone, I tried distracting myself to no avail. I swam, I binge-watched a documentary, I read, and when none of that worked, I went straight to the animal shelter.

I forgot my predicament for a while.

Especially when I found out that Sami was able to hire both a doctor and two nurses. But that’s not what made my heart burst with joy, it was learning Veer was making progress. After my first visit, I brought in an independent doctor and it helped a lot.

In a couple more weeks, I can bring him home.

Around seven in the evening, I’m free and I settle behind the driver’s seat to go home. As I swerve through post-rush-hour traffic, my previous jitters return. I scold myself for putting too much pressure on myself.

Who cares if he doesn’t like my book?

He probably hasn’t read a whole book in the span of a day in his whole life.

With that thought confidently cemented in my mind, I take the turn to our street and few minutes later, pull into our driveway. I haven’t missed how none of the guards are in the backyard every time I’ve gone for swimming in the pool.

If flaunting in front of other men makes me get my way, I should do it often.

I smirk, imagining Nova having a coronary due to his jealousy.

One of his cars—a sleek Lamborghini—which he took this morning, is sitting in the garage when I park mine next to it. His collection of luxurious sports cars is worthy of envy. I swear I drool a little as I brush my fingers over the hoods as I move past them.

If I’m unhealthily obsessed with books, he’s the same with cars.

Hefting my purse higher on my shoulder, I enter the house. My babies come running at the sound, almost knocking me out. With a laugh, I bend and pepper them with hugs and kisses. Maggie lays on the ground, throwing all four legs up in the air. I scratch her belly. Meanwhile, my face is smothered with eager tongues licking my cheeks.

“I missed you guys too,” I coo in a baby voice. “Yes, I did.”

“You killed me,” booms an angry voice from down the short hallway.

With a start, I stand upright and gaze into a hurt Nova. His lips pressed into a thin line and my novel hanging off his hand. I take in his broad shoulders sans his suit jacket and tie. Hair ruffled as though he’s been running his hand through it in frustration.

His tanned skin peeking through the open collar of his shirt has me clenching my thighs. My lips ache to press a kiss and trail them over his Adam’s apple and reach his enticing lips.

Why do men look sexy when they’re pissed?

I realize I’m staring until he clears his throat and crosses his arms, waiting for my response. I barely hold back my laughter while faking confusion. “Pardon?”

Coming closer, he waves the book in my face. “You can’t write a character with my name and then just kill him, Rose. It’s a crime.”

“Why don’t you file a case then?”

“Not funny.”

“I write a character named Nova in every one of my books.”

“Do they live in the other series?”

“No. I give him a brutal death each time,” I admit with a smile. “Sort of like an annoying bug that needs to be squashed. It’s my favorite scene to write.”

His jaw grinds, looking offended. “He wasn’t even the main villain. The guy was hilarious.”

“Figures you’d get attached to your own character.”

“I’m completely unbiased.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

Sidestepping him, I stride toward the kitchen. He follows hot on my heels and stands with his fists on the counter while I take out a water bottle from the fridge. When I face him, he watches me in his intense way. Still pissed and probably plotting how to reverse my decision.

My gaze flicks toward the corner, where I see around twenty to thirty parcels lying around. Some opened. “What did you order?”

“Toys.”

“Toys?”

“For Bunny.”

“Umm, why?” My tone is highly intrigued. Since when does he care about my dog’s wants or needs? He hates Bunny and vice versa. Unless… I connect the dots. Laughing, I tease, “Are you trying to bribe him, hubby?” He utters nothing but his expression gives him away. “Oh my god! You were. Aww, did it work?”

“Don’t you want to know what I thought of the book?” he deeply asks, ignoring my amusement. “Besides the obvious innocent murder.”

My mouth opens and closes. “You finished reading it all already?”

“Yes.”

“It’s over five hundred pages, Nova.”

“I’m a fast reader.”

I squint my gaze, not believing him. “Who was the one blackmailing Chelsea?”

“Her brother.” His reply is swift. “Not the boyfriend as you had us believe.”

“How many cats did she have?”

“Two. The second she adopted after losing Lola when the stalker killed her to send a message.” Circling around the island, he stops before me. “I’ve read every single word. Some even twice.”

I blush deep red.

The last words are whispered in a teasing and sensual tone that washes over me like a tangible caress over my skin. An electric shiver courses down my spine. We both know the scenes he’s talking about.

The toe-curling, kinky, and salacious sex.

Harsh gliding of sweaty bodies.

If he ever needed validation that I’m drawn to rough, filthy, and push-me-out-of-my-comfort-zone fucking. The wrong, corrupt, and addictive kind. Then I served it to him on a platter.

I hold my breath for the inevitable joke or teasing underlying with judgement. Yet I sense none. Only bone-deep desire and hunger etch across his handsome features. Dark with feral edges fighting for dominance.

“You had me hooked with your writing, Rose.” I suck in a trembling breath when one finger trails down the side of my face, over my flushed cheeks and down to the hollow of my throat. He pauses right over my pounding pulse. “What I am curious about, though, is who inspired you to write some specific scenes?”

His words drip with jealousy and violence.

I gulp under his untamed gaze.

Either I tell him there is someone but it’d be a lie. Or I let him believe it’s my wicked imagination. Neither answer is a safe choice.

I take the cowardly route. “It’s fiction, Nova. Nothing to do with reality.”

He leans in, caging me with his broad shoulders. His musky cologne driving me crazy. “That’s why I said inspired, not who you did it with.”

His cockiness makes me bristle. I have slept with other men. He’s conceited enough to pretend I haven’t. “What if I have? What are you going to do?”

“Kill the bastard.”

I swear I feel the earth shake. He can’t mean that, right? I breathlessly scold, “That’s not funny.”

“Who said it was a joke?”

“No one,” I blurt out, scared of his savage promise. “And I have no intention of ever doing it.”

It makes him smile devilishly. “Too bad. Because it’s my duty as your husband to make your fantasies true that you’re so curious about enough to write. I don’t mind if you wish to pretend otherwise. Making you blush like this only makes my cock harder, sweetheart.”

“You’re depraved.”

“Yet I’m not the one who wrote about a girl getting chased and fucked in a haunted house,” he teases. When I try to look away and shove him back, he grabs my chin. “I don’t want you to hide your desires from me, Rose. Every filthy, twisted, and corrupted fantasy you think of, I want to be the first and only man to know them. If you think I’m going to judge, you’re deadly wrong. No craving, no matter how taboo or wrong, is off-limits between us. I may treat you like my pretty slut and my dirty girl but it doesn’t mean I don’t respect you as a woman.”

How does he know all the right things to say?

My fragile heart can’t cope.

Giving me a mischievous and breathtaking smirk, full of naughty promises, he says, “Besides, it’d be a sin if you didn’t do proper research. If not for me, do it for your readers. I’m happy to sacrifice myself for the cause.”

“How noble of you.”

“There’s going to be nothing noble about the deeds I’ll do to you.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

His chest vibrates with a low chuckle. “Your body already has. I can feel your heart racing. Your nipples are hard, and you’ve been biting your lips since the moment I crowded you. Instead of saying no, you’ve left the promise of saying yes hanging in the air. You only have until we leave for our honeymoon to play your games, my wife. Then I’m taking control. I’m making you mine.”