Page 225 of Hateful Games

He handles my tantrums like a pro. Like a sailor weathering a storm.

Man have I lucked out.

Despite it, I’m scared as hell. Which is absurd. Who complains and questions themselves for feeling alive and happy for the first time? Daddy issues don’t even begin to cover what is wrong with me.

The soft breeze jolts me out of my musings and I gaze at the never-ending blue sea. Nova’s hand interlocks with my smaller one as we stroll along the shore.

Portofino with its colorful, lively and picturesque village is surrounded by a rainbow. So bright and striking.

Yet who has caught my rapt attention while distracting me from the beautiful riviera? My husband, looking utterly breathtaking and sexy in a simple white shirt buttoned halfway to show off his washboard abs. Paired with light beige shorts. Tousled hair pushed back, and black aviator sunglasses complete his look.

Vacation mode Nova is a lot calmer, playful, and too intense in his attentiveness. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve caught him gazing at me.

I secretly love it.

A whole lot.

After we arrived yesterday afternoon, we checked into our villa at the Belmond Hotel, Splendido. The jet lag plus the day spent in Vegas had us both searching for the bed. I swear as soon as my head hit the pillow and Nova tugged me into his arms, I was out.

Though I vaguely remember the low growl when I resisted the safety of his snuggles, and he said, “That’s where you end up anyways, Rose.”

Today, we’re going cruising in his family’s yacht and spending the day at the ocean. My body is overjoyed, just itching to dive into the water.

“Umm… the harbor is to the left, Nova,” I remind Nova when he turns in the opposite direction, toward the restaurants and the cute little shops.

He replies without slowing his pace. “We have a stop to make.”

Shrugging, I trudge along behind him in my simple cut-out black dress. The huge hat on top blocking the sun while my long hair dances in the breeze. “Can we hurry? I want to go swimming.”

“Patience, wife.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll be hungry soon too.”

“It makes you cranky. I’m well aware.”

His commanding and know-it-all tone shouldn’t be such a turn-on. On the flight and in our villa, I could hear him barking orders and smartly managing his panicked staff. CEO mode Nova doesn’t mess around and is authoritative.

My dirty mind replaying the same gravelly voice ordering me in the bedroom.

“At least tell me where we’re going.”

“You’ll see soon.”

“It better not be a shopping store,” I warn. Did I mention my husband is a secret shopaholic? In Vegas, when I told him I didn’t pack clothes for our honeymoon, he took us to the luxurious shopping mall. We spent close to five hours browsing the stores. Out of which, I only took a little over an hour. Rest of the time was spent on him.

The whole scene was hilarious.

If he’s ever upset, I know how to win him over.

“I told you I’m not a shopaholic, Rose,” he sighs over his shoulder.

I snicker. “And I’m not a bookaholic.”

We finally come to a stop and the sight leaves me perplexed. I stare at the cute beauty salon before peering up at Nova, tipping my hat back. “A salon?”

“Yes.” When I remain rooted to the spot, he grabs my ass and nudges me forward. Opening the door, he shoves me inside. “Get your nails done. It’s been almost a week.”

He knows I get my nails done weekly?

---