Page 106 of Hateful Games

“Yeah, just a small almost mishap,” I calmly answer, not wanting to draw any more attention. “I’m fine, thanks to Malcolm here saving the day.”

My sassy response has Nova squeezing my ass in warning. His warm breath teases my ear as he bends to threaten, “Keep singing his praises and there will be no saving you when I take you over my knee and spank your ass.”

My sharp intake of breath at the sexual threat is swallowed when Nathan joins our little circle. A confused frown mars his handsome face as he stands behind Iris until she leans against his chest and observes his best friend and Malcolm. Then mutters with a sigh, “You two at each other again?”

Again? They were fighting before. But why?

Could Nova know about his friend and me… No way.

It’s impossible.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Nova

The color red is becoming a permanent fixture in my life.

Either it haunts me every time I picture Rosalie’s silky tresses or I’m feeling it in my veins every time another man gets close to her.

Maybe she’s right… I am her villain.

At Nathan’s amused comment, curiosity and trepidation flickers in her black orbs. Except I know she doesn’t possess a single inch of remorse in her bones. If she did, she would’ve confessed. It can only mean one thing.

She wants me to silently seethe and burn.

Or she’s waiting for the perfect moment to gut me.

Honestly, so am I. Soon, I tell myself. I’ll have her all to myself and I’ll carve out all her deepest and darkest discretions from her treacherous little heart.

“Malcolm is in dire need of a date, it seems,” I taunt like a sulking bastard. My mind is still replaying the vision of him boldly grabbing my Rose and feeling what her soft skin feels like. Not once in the last ten years have I seen Rosalie let another man get close enough to touch. Yes, she attempted to go on dates, but she always maintained a distance.

Except with Malcolm.

Almost like she subconsciously trusts him.

I study her profile, trying to gauge lust in her eyes as she looks at him and vice versa. My mood eases slightly when I find none on their faces. But the stupid jealous beast inside me is still burning hot in the cage and chanting to steal her away from the room and remind her she belongs to me.

To undo that sexy blouse of hers and let her sari spill to the floor in a heap.

Until all she’s left wearing is my ring.

Then I’m going to take my sweet time marking every delectable inch of her, every curve and dip in her sublime body with my tongue and my teeth. Until she’s painted in my stamp that leaves no doubt to the depths of her soul that she’s mine.

Very soon. The words burn in my veins.

My attention is drawn back to the present when Rosalie tenses at my tone, expecting a brawl to occur between Malcolm and me. So are Iris and Bianca. Meanwhile, Dash couldn’t look more bored, his arms protectively around his fiancée… wife?

Who fucking knows? I’ve lost both count and interest.

Rosalie opens her mouth to probe but snaps it shut when Malcolm simply smirks and shakes his head, unoffended at my mocking of him. The moody bastard never misses the chance to toy with me.

Deep inside, I know he isn’t interested in Rosalie.

A certain pixie-sized girl with a penchant for ignoring him has his mind enchanted.

It’s my deviant siren of a fiancée with wheels turning inside her head twenty-four seven that is stirring trouble that will end up with her receiving more than she bargained for.

“Stop being rude, Nova,” she scorns. My earlier threat taken with a grain of salt.

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