Page 314 of Hateful Games

How many times have I told Rosalie that I’d never let her be with another man. I’ve lost count. Yet I’ve meant them each time.

“You cannot tell her, Nova,” says Dad. “Some things are better left in the dark.”

“Nothing ever stays in the dark.”

Our eyes lock in a silent battle. The sound of a text pinging interrupts us.

I move to stand when with a sigh, my father focuses on his phone, but the stark dread on his face stops me cold. A storm brews when his gaze flashes to mine. “What did you do, Nova?”

“What?” I frown.

“Why do I have a text from Mihir saying he wants to meet? Both of us. Now.” His tone is angry. Standing abruptly, his chair skidding on the floor, he rounds the desk. “Let’s go.”

I check my own phone as I walk alongside my father to the elevator. My mood turns bleak when I see there is, in fact, an unread text. A surprise invite from Mihir is equivalent to walking defenseless into Satan’s lair.

No telling what disaster is waiting for you until it’s too late.

I knew this business merger with him was going to come bite us in the ass.

We take my car, both of us lost in our own thoughts as I drive toward Mihir’s house. My mind plagued with what fresh hell he has in store for us. I’m already filled with boiling fury at the role he played in damaging my parents’ marriage. My mother has always been easily led and naïvely fooled. She and Dad could’ve had a semblance of a good relationship, even a friendly one, had it not been for Mihir.

How am I ever going to tell Rosalie and stand a chance to fix it?

I circle down the driveway I’ve driven only a handful of times and never for a good reason. Déjà vu slams into me as I park and kill the ignition. The flashback of Rosalie blasting my car providing a momentary distraction and bringing a smile to my lips. It vanishes just as fast when my dad and I step out.

The sun beats down on us as we walk toward the front gate.

It opens with a flourish by one of the many staff members.

Lily must not be home. Another bad sign.

“Mr. Kapoor is waiting upstairs,” the woman says and walks us to the study upstairs. Like we don’t already know the way.

My father is silent but I can sense his unease. I see him in a new light. He’s flawed but also lonely and sad. Maybe he’s right. I’ve only seen and believed one side of the story. I imagine being in his place and I can’t bear the thought of watching Rosalie settle down with another man, have his kid. I would rather be dead.

Love is a tricky notion.

It possesses the power to bring out our worst and most vindictive qualities, as well as our good sides.

Which side do I fall on?

I harden my expression upon reaching my father-in-law’s study and wear false boredom as I enter first. Then my father.

Mihir’s conceited and slimy face fills my vision. I stiffen even before an arrogant and vicious grin etches across his mouth. Relaxing against his big chair, as if we’re mere peasants showing up at his doorsteps, he greets us. “Gentlemen. I’m so glad you could visit on such short notice. However, urgent business matters can hardly wait, as you’ll both agree. Have a seat, please.”

His politely spoken words don’t perfectly veneer the gloating tone underneath. He’s practically foaming at the mouth, as though he’s won a lottery we don’t know about.

“Why are we here, Mihir?” demands my father, putting his hands in his pockets. “If it were business, we have a perfectly good office to discuss this in.”

“I prefer to conduct my most important and discreet ones at home,” he answers. “In a minute, you’ll be thanking me for the privacy as well.”

The more he talks in circles, the more my hackles rise.

I’ve no patience for his sick mind games. So, I coldly taunt, “Then how about not wasting our time with chit chat and getting to your point?”

His gaze flashes to mine, his jaw tightening. I hold his stare as flashbacks of our previous encounters raise blotchy redness to his cheeks.

“Always so blunt,” he sneers, his mask cracking.