Page 8 of Hateful Games

His gaze drops to my mouth as if he’s imagining various ways of shutting me up. I lick my lips nervously and they narrow into slits, darkening.

The storm finally erupts.

My heart drops to my stomach when he brings his lighter, which he pulls out from his pocket, into my periphery. The gold color glinting sharply.

“I don’t scare you, little Rose?” he muses cruelly. “Then let me enlighten you to a life with me since you’re apparently dead set on us marrying and becoming my wife. Obviously, reading book porn has gone to your head and is separating you from reality.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, my voice shrill when I watch him switch on his lighter until a bright flame swishes in the air. Horror etches on my face as I stare in slow motion as he brings it to the corner of my book, setting it on fire. “No!!”

Flames lick the pages so fast that my protest is fruitless.

The stench of smoke suffocates my bedroom, until it’s all I can smell and feel. My breathing turns choppy as nightmarish memories assault me. The only difference, my villain’s face is replaced my Nova’s.

As I stay rooted to the spot, watching the ashes of my book flutter to the floor, he steps over them and stalks closer. Tilting my numb face to his with one single finger under my chin, he delivers his declaration of war. “Call off the wedding, little Rose, or be prepared to burn for eternity.”

Leaving me staring at the mess at my feet, he walks to my bedroom door but turns at the last second. “You have one week.”

The ghost of his touch lingers long after.

So does his ultimatum.

Chapter Three

Nova

I thrive on control.

On perfectly crafted plans.

My whole future dictates on it.

When they veer off course, even slightly, it causes a blunder in my life that I can’t afford. Because you see, my plans aren’t for the fainthearted. It’s a long con and every piece needs to fit into its proper place.

Others’ best-laid plans may go awry, but not mine.

When you’re born to lead a legacy, flourish it to new heights, you can’t risk being lax. Reckless. Or in my case, falling in bed with the enemy. Yet, it’s exactly what my father is expecting of me. As if marrying me to the daughter of his long-term rival will magically erase the years of heartbreak, pain, and depression.

He’s deluded if he believes I’m silently going to fall in line.

When it comes to business, I may listen to him. Respect and learn from his years of blood, sweat, and tears in building an empire for me to lead one day. However, this is my future he’s wrecking apart.

All because of some grandiose belief it will end the bad blood and the vindictiveness.

What a fool.

It’s all bullshit being the bigger person. Fuck that.

I despise the Kapoors and everything they stand for. Not because I’ve been taught, but because of the high regard they hold themselves with, looking down their haughty noses at everybody while thinking they’re above us all.

My childhood was spent growing up surrounded by dirty rumors disparaging my family’s name. I heard them all, being whispered in dark corners and hummed low in my proximity. In the eyes that watched me like hawks. The constant attention of the media and the authorities.

Through it all, I stood tall and untouchable.

People assumed I was charming by nature, when the truth is, I’ve crafted it in my quest to prove the gossip wrong. To earn the respect of my peers. While maintaining a distance, never letting anyone close.

People are fools. You tell them what they want to hear, they’ll worship you like a god.

Perfecting the mask and constantly wearing it has only fueled the hatred and fire in my veins. It is always simmering under the surface, waiting to burn those around in its flames.

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