Page 113 of Hateful Games

“I wanna see too,” says Bianca as she goes to check it out.

“How do I look?” I ask once she returns and I’m wearing the veil. It’s so lightweight, I might as well be floating. I cock my hip and strike a pose, making them clap.

“Gorgeous.”

“Dreamy.”

A throat clears behind us and we startle. I turn to see my dad patiently waiting. My smile drops to the bottom of my feet. Despite the practiced smile he’s wearing for show and to fool the lingering people around us, I feel his disapproval like a tangible stroke.

I strive to not let it ruffle me.

Soon, he’ll be the least of my worries.

“Can I have a moment alone with my daughter?” he politely asks my friends.

“Of course, Uncle.”

He moves closer so others can’t hear in case they’re eavesdropping. His smile doesn’t waver as he rips me apart with his words. “I hope you don’t take me letting this dress slide as an invitation to rebel and disgrace us in the future. Your tears might have worked on Nova but will never work on me.”

“I didn’t ask him to defend me, Papa.”

“That arrogant boy can think you’re his all he wants but don’t forget where your loyalties lie. I’ve given you to him, I can snatch you right back if I wish to. Understand?”

I barely stop from flinching and nod, incapable of forming words.

“Sir,” Tamana calls, approaching us cautiously.

My dad faces her. “Yes?”

“The priest and groom are all set. Shall we?”

Malcolm and Nathan have also arrived, standing a few feet away from us with Iris and Bianca. Their attention draws to my father and I when we walk toward them. Malcolm stills upon seeing me and his gaze softens in a friendly manner.

Tamana guides us all to line up. First are Bianca and Malcolm, followed by Iris and Nathan. Lastly, Dad and I.

I’m once again swarmed by the rhyming trio as they apply last-minute touches, fixing my dress and the veil at my back. The moment they step aside, Tamana receives a nod from her assistant and then begins the soft notes of the wedding march playing outside.

“Go,” she says.

My heart travels up to my throat with each second it takes me closer to becoming Nova’s wife. It feels like it’s been forever when it’s finally my turn. Dad, who has been standing stoically the whole time, takes my hand into the crook of his arm.

“Now.”

A warm breeze caresses my cheeks, shifting the curls teasingly as I take the first step into the sunlit sky. The guests’ sharp intakes of breaths feel like my own. At first, everything appears blindingly white until I slowly take in the intimidating silhouette that waits for me at the altar.

Nova.

The vision of him standing like a dark god steals the air out of my lungs.

Because he. Is. Wearing. A. Red suit.

Red.

The color that I was supposed to wear.

I blink, my gait almost faltering as my stomach hollows. In the deep red color with a pristine black shirt, Nova looks ravishing and devilishly handsome. He doesn’t even look fazed in the slightest wearing the color that is supposedly for the bride.

Just as I’m absorbing every single detail about him, his own are traveling over every inch of me. They leave a trail of goosebumps on my skin, in my bones, and send a shiver down my spine at once.

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