Page 26 of Hateful Games

Malcolm doesn’t push him away when the stranger rests his arm on his shoulder. Malcolm’s lips curve to the side and before I can beat him to it, he reveals smugly, “No. She’s Nova’s secret fiancée.”

The stranger’s arm slips while his jaw hangs open, eyes widening comically.

I glare at Malcolm, who smirks.

“D’Cruz is engaged?” The friend manages to find his voice. “Since when? Just yesterday, he was shagging some first year.”

I mask the revulsion at the revelation of his manwhore ways, pissed he’s living his life while I’ve been living mine like a nun for the last two years. Not my fault, though, the guys in school were too scared to talk to me while the ones outside, who found the nerve, would either ghost me or disappear after the first date. Never to be heard from again.

It’s the sole reason I’m holding on to my virginity as if it’s the secret to the holy grail.

I’m not jealous of him being with other women. I never expected him to be loyal or had the intention of being loyal to him myself.

But the knowledge that our forced engagement hasn’t disrupted his lifestyle at all is arousing the vengeful need inside me to get even. Our relationship might be a contract, but hell if he’s going to have more power.

Back home, guys were aware of my last name, but here I’m just another girl.

It’s freeing. Exhilarating. Full of adventurous possibilities.

And the only thing I’m going to say goodbye to when I leave London will be my virginity. I have no grand desire of saving it for the right man or my future husband.

I’ll be damned if Nova gets to claim me.

Malcolm’s drunk friend continues talking, not the least bit bothered he shouldn’t blurt something like that out in the open. What if I had actually been in love with Nova—insert vomit—this would’ve been a shitty way to get my heart broken.

“But is she off-limits or not?”

“No girl is fucking your drunk ass, Hunter. Certainly not Nova’s fiancée.”

“I have a name and it’s not Nova’s fiancée,” I snap. Both of them turn to me. “Seriously, what the hell is every man’s problem in saying a girl’s name right. It’s not sexy or that hard.”

If anyone had a doubt I didn’t belong here, my accent has fixed it.

“Blimey, she’s sassy,” Hunter mutters in awe.

I look him up and down before retorting, “And yes, I’m fucking off-limits to you.”

“Why? You loyal to D’Cruz?”

“No. Because misogynistic men aren’t my type.”

“Nova wouldn’t let you touch her anyways,” says Malcolm. “The bloody bastard has been hiding her existence for the last three years.”

I glare, not correcting him that it’s two years. “Nova is not the boss of me.”

“If you say so.” His tone is sarcastic.

Exasperated with them, I turn and say behind my back, “I’m getting a drink.”

“Don’t get lost,” warns Malcolm.

The alcohol-filled table near me is too crowded, so I stroll to the next, which is on the opposite end. There is still no sign of Nova, which is a blessing, but nevertheless, I want to stay closer to Malcolm. He’s my ride home and the only person I know.

I eye a bottle of vodka. Snagging it, I pour it into one of the red cups on the side and mix it with Sprite. Twisting around, I take a healthy sip while searching for Malcolm. Even though I’m not short, people here are quite tall. I stalk in the direction I came, only for the sudden darkness to swallow us whole.

There’s a pin-drop silence.

Someone bumps into me and I audibly gasp when bright lights, almost blinding me, illuminate the cage.

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