Page 239 of Hateful Games

“You’re a fucking asshole. And I will never beg.”

“You all but did just a second ago when you were riding my fingers like a cowgirl. I’ll have you riding my dick too.”

Leaving me naked and a mess, he ambles out of the bedroom.

My emotions all over the place, fueled by anger and the cruelly stolen orgasm, I pick my phone up. Without a second thought, I accept the invitation to the play party in Milan.

If I have to drug him to sneak away, I will.

We’ll see who wins the war then.

***

Destiny must be in my favor.

Because as soon as arrive in Milan, Nova receives an urgent call from his assistant that requires his immediate attention. The whole afternoon he spends in an online conference with his team, leaving me to fend for myself.

It grates on his nerves but he relents when I say I’m going solo for sightseeing. With a bodyguard chaperoning me, of course.

I might’ve lied that I’ve never been to this city.

However, I’m glad I did after his domineering ways.

“Are you sure you’re not tired after walking around all day?” asks Nova with a concerned pinch between his brows as he shrugs off his suit jacket.

We’ve just returned after having a cozy dinner, for which he made time. I ignore the butterflies flapping around in my stomach at his gesture. A lot of men could take lessons from him.

“No. I’m feeling inspired, so I’m going to write for a bit,” I lie. It’s nine right now but I also know after a quick shower, Nova will resign himself to bed around ten. The man is obviously not a human.

Who the hell in their right mind wakes up at four in the morning?

Since I’m a night owl, I’m clueless to his morning routine.

It irks me because his knowledge about my quirks and habits is superb.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Kissing me softly on the lips, which I stupidly return, he disappears around the corner. Despite the tumultuous nature of our marriage so far, he never forgets. I’m beginning to see why he’s so successful at such a young age. His tenacity is unflappable.

For the next hour or so until the clock strikes ten, I pretend to write.

He returns to check up on me again, carrying a bottled water and some snacks.

“In case you get hungry,” he explains and goes to bed after saying good night.

The location of the party isn’t far from our hotel. Only a twenty-minute drive max. I’m planning on returning before Nova wakes up. As I plot for tonight, I start to second-guess myself.

Am I cheating on Nova if I go out?

Our marriage isn’t real.

That’s what I keep telling myself. A part of me believes I’m in the wrong because despite being angry as I accepted the invite, I ticked the box for no sex.

A first for me.

If this is my last chance, shouldn’t I go out with a bang? I shake off the confusing feelings, because it doesn’t matter. I can’t revert my choice. I hate giving up control as much as I crave it. A juxtaposition, if there was one.

With Nova, I’ve only ever surrendered.

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