Page 107 of Hateful Games

There she goes again. Her concern for Malcolm grating on my last nerves. While my best friends are looking seconds away from bursting in laughter. Very well aware of the reason I’m reacting like an obsessed psycho.

“He’s a grown man, Rose,” I reply with a shocking calmness. “He can handle it.”

“Don’t worry about me, trouble,” Malcolm says, adding fuel to the fire.

She bewitches him with a smile.

The last of my patience bursts into tatters.

Capturing her hand, I drag her out of the little circle. The lot of them wearing a variety of emotions. Mostly amusement at my expense. Although, Dash senses the storm brewing in my head. After all, last year I witnessed a similar interaction at Bianca and his reception where he went berserk after catching another man merely dancing with Bianca.

“Excuse us,” I grit out.

I’ve only taken a step when yet again another waiter trips. This time, slamming into me and pouring a plate full of food all over my Tom Ford loafers. Some of it splashing on the ends of my pants.

What kind of caterer has been hired, for fuck’s sake? Are they all incompetent?

Luckily, Rosalie is saved because I pushed her behind me at the last second.

“Where the fuck is your manager?” I growl to the trembling waiter, who passes tissue paper with shivering hands.

“Nova,” murmurs Rosalie cautiously as she grabs my arm.

“What?”

Her gaze skirts to the poor guy before whispering to me, “You’ll get him fired.”

“He should be.”

“Let it go.”

“Please, sir. I’m so sorry,” the guy pleads. “It won’t happen again.”

“Nova.” Rosalie stares with a soft expression I’ve never been bestowed with.

The anger twists into calmness with that one look and without glancing away, I say to the waiter, “Go away.”

With an apology and show of gratitude, he skedaddles.

“Thank you,” Rosalie mumbles before looking at the mess. “You should go change.”

“You’re coming with me,” I say before she has a chance to bolt.

Her nose puckers cutely. “Don’t know how to lace your shoes?”

“Or maybe I’m just hoping for a glimpse of you kneeling for me.”

The rosiness on her cheeks deepens. “While you’re in there, might want to wash your mouth too. Since it’s uttered nothing but filth this evening.”

“Rose.” My tone is low and rough as I capture her chin. “The same filth gets your pussy wet, your nipples hard, and your eyes glazed with lust. The same filth you read all day long and every night in bed while wearing the most innocent expression, only I know of its true depth.” Sliding my grip to her throat, uncaring of the eyes on us, I wickedly promise, “When, not if, I have you pinned naked underneath me, I’ll show you what being filthy means. What you know till now will look like child’s play. I’m going to have you addicted to my brand of filth, sweetheart.”

Taking ahold of her delicate wrist, I drag us out of the ballroom toward my suite. She’s too stunned to do anything but lower her head in shyness and mutely follow.

We’re halfway to my room when she gets her bearing and sharply looks up. “Do you really need me here?”

“You can entertain me while I change.”

“Annoy your best man with your demands.”

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