Page 187 of Hateful Games

It’s one thing to let me be myself behind closed doors but an entirely different reality outside in front of the hawklike attention of the media and enemies alike.

Summoning steel into my spine, I stare at my reflection in the black satin and lace gown with a slit. It took careful maneuvering for the stylist to put it on because of the thin and delicate see-through lace on the sides, showing off my naked skin. The front and back are satin with a deep V-cut, and one arm is hidden beneath the lace.

My wine-red hair falls in curls around my shoulders. The makeup artist gave me smoky eyes, a subtle blush, and my signature red lips. The diamond bracelet glints in the light when I gather my hair over one shoulder.

Clicking a selfie, I send it in the group chat with my best friends. Their response coming immediately.

BIANCA: Gorgeous girl.

IRIS: *snorts* Nova isn’t letting her walk out in that dress, which says a lot since I’m pretty sure you’re naked.

IRIS: P.S: You’re slaying as always, Ro. I’m borrowing that dress.

ME: You’re confusing Nova with Dash, Iris.

IRIS: That’s not what I hear.

ME: I told you both that threat meant nothing.

I regret telling them about Nova’s display of possessiveness in the kitchen.

BIANCA: Denial. That’s how it starts.

IRIS: Better glue that dress, Ro. Just to be safe.

ME: Shut up, you both.

BIANCA: Have fun.

These two are having too much fun at my expense. I’ll set them straight on our next lunch date.

I decide to make my way out of the bedroom before Nova comes knocking. He has said twice already now that I’m making him late. The second was issued with a threat to spank my ass. I hate that my first instinct was to disobey him.

Descending the spiral staircase, I run straight into my husband. The expensive tux fitted to perfection as he stands with his back to me.

I can’t believe a week has passed since we got married. I thought I’d be miserable.

Instead, I’ve felt more alive than I have in years.

The purpose of tonight’s party is to introduce us as a newly wedded couple. The media will be panting to interview us. It’s not often two powerful families who are lifelong enemies and with twisted roots like ours join together for a joyous occasion.

Nova turns upon hearing my heels clacking on the floor. He freezes the second his always feral eyes land on mine. He doesn’t blink. Or breathe. Except the visible hardening of his jaw, there’s no other reaction.

I suck in a sharp breath.

The air sizzling with tension.

The kind I’m feeling more and more in his proximity lately. Tonight, his expression is even darker and edgier.

It’s the same as that night.

Ten years ago, when he waited in my bedroom like an intruder with the confidence of a man who belonged there. My body had reacted the same way. Like it didn’t know whether to run or stay.

Hide or disappear.

Fight or cower.

I clear my throat, attempting to snap him out of his startling reverie. If possible, he becomes angrier. Hotter. More rugged. My heart, that is hardly affected by any man or catastrophe, hyperventilates as the temperature thickens.

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