Hateful Games: (An arranged marriage billionaire romance) (Arranged Games Book 2)
Chapter 6

Am I in the wrong apartment?

Because the handsome and broody British man guy gazing down at me is not my fiancé. Though he looks about Nova’s age.

“Are you lost, love?” he asks, the accent giving me goosebumps.

It’s an involuntary reaction, due to my low-key obsession with accents. I don’t like my Indian one at all, unlike most people. Honestly, it’s boring as hell.

While I mutely stare at the grumpy stranger, looking like a fool and trying hard not to become distracted by his half-naked state. Which is hard, because he’s towering over me with his impressive height, arms flexed and expression intense.

Why the hell are all men around here so tall?

“Umm…” I clear my throat and mumble, “I’m sorry, I think I’m in the wrong apartment.”

I expect him to slam the door in my face judging from the irritated scowl on his screaming I disturbed him. But he surprises me when he asks, “Who are you here for?”

“Do you by chance have a neighbor named Nova?”

“No.” His head tilts, giving me a once-over. “But I do have a roommate named Nova.”

“Nova D’Cruz?”

“The one and only.”

It takes a few seconds to recover after digesting that I’ll have to share with not one, but two men. One practically a stranger, even if he’s tall, dark, and handsome personified. Still, I’m hoping he’s just a friend who spent the night on the couch.

I would book a hotel room in a heartbeat but with my dad keeping a vigilant eye on my credit card, he’ll immediately know I’m staying somewhere else. Then he’ll tattle to my mom and that’s a whole other headache I don’t need.

Still, the possibility of staying with them both… My nerves are shot.

“I thought he lived alone.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he replies with an edge, indicating he’s slowly becoming irritated with my silly questions. Jeez. I should be the one irritated after a long-ass flight.

He doesn’t know that, though.

“And if you’re here to seduce him, don’t worry about me. ’Cause our bedrooms are soundproof.” I cringe in disgust, making his gaze deepen in mild curiosity. “I’m going to assume that’s not what you’re here for.”

Do I look that desperate? And just how many random women show up for him?

“Definitely not.”

“How do you know him then?”

“I’m Rosalie,” I pause, waiting for recognition to hit. It doesn’t, so I add, “His fiancée.”

His jaw drops, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. His indifferent attitude cracking and shock rooting in its place. Wow, so Nova has hidden the fact he’s engaged. Of course, he has. Declaring he has a fiancée will be an obstacle in the way of his horde of women lining up for his bed.

He rubs his chin before exhaling roughly. “Wow, he has been hiding you all this time then, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to disrupt his bachelor’s life.”

His lips twitch.

The telltale sound of the elevator opening behind snags our attention. When I look back, the doorman is bringing my suitcases. All four of them.

“Are you moving in with us, love?”

I narrow my gaze at his sarcastic tone. His features sliding back into one of boredom. As if accepting the fact there’s no getting rid of me. He shifts to the side, letting the doorman pass before gesturing for me to come in.

Fucking finally.

He guides me down the dark hallway, then veers to the left toward an open kitchen and living room space. Every inch of their apartment is neat and organized. The rumors about an ugly and messy bachelor pad sounding like a myth.

Despite the scowl on his face, the guy has impeccable manners as he brings me a bottle of water. I plump down on the softest yet most firm couch ever with a quiet sigh. “Thank you…” I trail off, realizing I never bothered to ask his name.

“Malcolm.”

“Thanks, Malcolm,” I reply with a small smile. I briefly glance around the place. My eyes going everywhere at once. On the gray walls, the white rug on the floor, and small impersonal decorations littered around the room fashionably.

“By your reaction earlier,” says Malcolm, sitting opposite me. Still very much shirtless. “It’s safe to say it wasn’t a love engagement.”

Not unless he counts burning each other’s stuff as a love language. I bite my tongue, not wanting to scare the poor guy. “Our parents arranged it when we were young.”

“Is that even legal in this day and age?”

“A lot of people have arranged marriages in all parts of the world.”

“Nova never seemed the type to let his parents pick a girl.”

“And yet I’m here, lo and behold.”

“You hate him,” he states flatly.

“No offense, but it’s none of your business, Malcolm.” I set my empty glass down on the low-rise table, not acquiescing his statement. “Where is Nova, anyways?”

“Out.”

I arch one eyebrow. “Will he be returning?”

“Not tonight.”

I wait for him to elaborate but he seems content in giving me short answers. I bet he’s secretly enjoying it, not that I can tell by his expression. I thought Nova was a closed book with his charming mask. But this guy takes the cake.

Malcolm is frosty.

“Would you please text him and let him know I’m here?” I politely ask, acting unbothered by his standoffish attitude.

“You don’t have his phone number?”

“My phone’s dead,” I lie. Confessing I stubbornly refuse to save his number sounds childish. It might be, but doing it feels like accepting my fate that I’ll be marrying him soon.

Even more solidifying than signing those papers two years ago.

“I don’t think he’ll like being disturbed, if he’ll even check his phone,” says Malcolm mysteriously. A glimmer of mischief dances in his eyes. “Besides, why ruin the surprise?”

Suddenly, I sense the similarities between him and Nova, especially with that calculative look in Malcolm’s dark eyes.

No wonder they’re friends.

Meanwhile, I’m forgetting he’s not mine. The friend of my enemy is my enemy… isn’t that what they say? I cannot let my guard down around him. Standing up, I smooth down my skirt and ask, “Can you show me to the guest room?”

“Sure.” His tone conveys I’m not fooling him.

I follow him down to a set of stairs, leading to another floor and down a hallway. He pauses at the last door on the left, pushing it open. I stop short just past the threshold. Turning to Malcolm, I point out. “This is Nova’s room.”

“Shouldn’t you share your room with your fiancé?” he retorts, crossing his muscular arms. “Besides, there are only two bedrooms. Would you rather share mine?”

It’s like choosing between the two devils. And don’t they say better the one you know than the one you don’t?

“Or either one of you could be a gentleman and stay on the couch?”

“Then you’ve come to the wrong place, love.”

I roll my eyes and decide to freshen up and rest in here for now. I’ll worry about sleeping arrangements once Nova returns, which judging by Malcolm’s statement won’t be until tomorrow.

Kudos to me.

I also kinda like the opportunity of snooping around in my nemesis’s bedroom.

Wonder what all sorts of secrets he’s hiding.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

Startled, I look up at Malcolm studying me intently. And dare I say… he looks amused.

“What could I possibly do?” I reply innocently.

“You’re trouble.” Shaking his head, he turns and walks away.

***

The incessant and loud pounding on the bedroom door wakes me up from my deep slumber. The jet lag had me knocked out cold the second my head hit the pillow. I was so tired I didn’t even put on clothes and instead passed out in my fluffy robe.

I check the time to see it’s nine in the evening and curse myself for sleeping like the dead when there’s another impatient knock.

Has Nova returned early? Fuck.

Maybe Malcolm informed him.

And here I was excited for some peace.

Irritated at being woken up and afraid he’s going to break the door, I slide off the bed, tie my robe which came undone while I slept, and unlock the door. It jerks open and I duck back just in time before it smacks me in the forehead.

“What the hell, Malcolm?” I grumble, when I see it’s him. “Is the apartment on fire or just your ass?”

His impersonal gaze runs over my undressed frame and bedhead hair before he says, “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

I gape at his bossy tone and blink when he turns to leave.

“Excuse me?” I yell at his back. His long strides eating the distance quickly. When he whips around, I observe his distressed black denim jeans and fitted tee, displaying his abundant muscles. “I think you missed a word there called please.”

“If you didn’t sleep like the dead, you would’ve heard me when I came by an hour ago. Now we’re late.”

“What made you think I would want to go out with you in the first place?”

“I don’t trust you to leave you alone here. So, you don’t really have a choice, love.”

Asshole. “I’m not coming.”

“You’ll like where I’m going and might even have fun. Unless you’re allergic to it.”

Well played. “Fine. Only because I have nothing better to do.”

“Of course.” His voice is mocking.

Closing the door, I hurry up to get dressed. I might as well have some fun before Nova’s presence inevitably ruins it tomorrow. God, I hope he stays busy. However, knowing my luck, it definitely won’t happen.

Half an hour later, I’m dressed in a similar fashion. Dark denim and a black top with a knot in the middle, leaving my midriff and piercing bare. I tie my hair in a high ponytail, put on hoop earrings, and paint my lips red with soft blush on my cheeks.

Before leaving, I grab my leather jacket in case it gets chilly or rains.

When I meet Malcolm at the door, he runs an appreciative glance down my frame before his features turn frosty again. Five minutes later, he’s seated behind his wheel, which is a sleek royal blue Mustang. I’m both envious and thrilled as it purrs to life and we’re off on the road.

When I finally get my adrenaline under control, I ask, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t like suspense.”

“Too bad.”

“Do you replace it hard to make friends or something?”

He glances at me, at the sudden one-eighty in the topic. “No. Why?”

“Because it’s the only explanation I can think of about you being friends with Nova. You must be really desperate for friendship, huh?”

“Just ’cause you hate the guy, doesn’t mean everyone does.”

If he only knew our history, let alone our families’.

I gaze out the window as we zoom past different streets until he takes us to the university’s campus. A Russell Group institution. My parents had tried to coerce me into studying abroad but I chose not to.

The sudden realization hits and I feel mildly betrayed. Turning, I hiss, “You brought me here to Nova.”

“Don’t worry. He doesn’t know you’re with me.”

“What are you plotting in that head of yours?”

“A distraction.”

“I don’t consent to it.”

“It’ll piss off Nova.”

Why didn’t he just say that? “What do have you in mind?”