Page 221 of Hateful Games

Her eyes widen into saucers. “Honeymoon? But there’s still a few days.”

“I moved it up, since you’re in the mood for a vacation.” She opens her mouth to try her weasel her way out of this. But I shut her up with a kiss.

It’s time to make her mine irrevocably.

***

Rosalie is pouting through the whole flight in my private jet—an indulgence I couldn’t resist.

I mean, her version of a pout, which is to give me the silent treatment.

Never been a fan.

Since I knew she was going to react like this, I came prepared. For every defensive wall she creates between us, I have the tool to tear them down. Until she can never shut me out.

Walking down the aisle, I approach Rosalie in the front, sitting in the club seat. She’s looking out the window, but the shiver that runs down her back tells me she senses my presence. But is being a stubborn little brat.

On our way to the airport, she recited all the reasons we shouldn’t go to Italy. Our first destination—Portofino. I’ve already made arrangements for my family’s yacht, Oasis, to be ready for cruising along the shores of Riviera de Levante.

Her most obvious excuse was her fur babies and I told her they were perfectly fine with Raghu, who I begrudgingly had to call.

Next was the shelter, how she couldn’t just abandon them. I took care of that by giving the responsibility to my assistant to help them if they need it.

When that didn’t work, she tried to guilt-trip me about how I shouldn’t leave my father in the lurch with the new merger and all. My expression was enough to make her backpedal. Since then, I’m being flat-out ignored.

Instead of sitting across from her, I take a seat beside her.

“I brought you something.”

“Don’t want it.”

“You haven’t seen it.”

“The clouds are a far more beautiful view.”

I place the item—her shiny black laptop—in front of her. She notices it from her peripheral, freezes, and slowly faces it.

Her fingers trace the top and she murmurs, “My laptop?”

“I thought you’d want to write your current book,” I reply. “I saw it is set to release in three months. I’m guessing you have a deadline coming soon to send the finished manuscript to your editor.”

She reacts the same way she did when I brought her a Kindle e-reader.

Astonished.

Tenderly.

Passionately.

She watches me like she’s seeing me for the first time. Like I’m a figment of her imagination. Beneath it, there’s also a shadow of fear. As if she’ll blink and the moment will pass. The soulful look makes me uncomfortable. Not because I don’t like it, but because I’ve never earned it from anyone.

I didn’t even realize I wanted to until now.

Desperate to bask in it more, I confess, “I also preordered it, so I don’t miss the release.”

“When?”

“The same night you told me.” Pushing a strand of her deep red hair that falls from her messy bun, I tuck it behind her ear and let my finger linger. “Actually, I bought all your books in every format available. As soon as we get home, I need you to autograph all of them. I will keep them in a display in my office.”

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