Page 319 of Hateful Games

The fate of how our story ends in her hands.

Softening my gaze, I graze her bottom lip with my thumb. “I love you, Rose.”

“I don’t love you.

“Never did.

“Never will.”

Dropping my hands, I step back. “I knew you were going to be my downfall. Guess I did fool myself. This isn’t heaven, you’re my hell.”

She taught me my first heartbreak too.

The broken pieces of it belonging to her.

“I’ll send you your stuff back. Don’t bother returning.”

Chapter Eighty-one

Rosalie

As soon as Nova exits my bedroom without looking back and his footsteps recede, I crumple to the floor in a heap. Sobs I held in now fall freely in ugly waves. His masculine scent that is my safe haven lingering strongly and taunting me with the loss. Every inch of my limbs quake to chase after him and say sorry for breaking his heart.

I love him.

I love him so much.

Every word I spilled to him was a lie, except for the part where I made a deal with my father. At that time, burned by the pain of him treating me like crap and disrespecting me, I thought I had no choice and was desperate for a way out of the engagement. I accepted the deal without thinking about the severity of my actions.

Have I broken his trust irreparably? Will he ever love me again?

Each flinch and pain I caused, bleeds and fractures my heart alongside his. However, it’s the only choice I have to protect and save him.

The nightmare I thought ended was hiding in plain sight and I never escaped it.

He’s back.

My monstrous uncle is back.

They say the dead never returns… Mine was resurrected by my father.

My manipulative father, ever so cunning, had a contingency plan in place in case the deal went awry. As he if had predicted I would fall for Nova long before I did. The naïve me thought I could keep my distance and avoid him, while no longer doing his bidding and hope everything would be all right.

Then I ran into him at the port.

There was no avoiding it.

Still, I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t help him sabotage Nova and his family. Only to meet a ghost from my past. The stark horror, the crippling fear, and the harrowing scream I let loose still sends a tremor rocking down my spine.

Summoned like the demon he is, his boots fill my line of sight. I duck my face as his boot connects with the side of my head until I fall sideways. I don’t give him the satisfaction of listening to my pained groan.

The scent of alcohol no longer wafts from him.

He’s running eight years sober, as he boasted after reappearing in my life.

Somehow, that makes me him even more dangerous. Drunk men are likely to be caught off guard or slip up, but I no longer have that advantage.

His eyes are sharp and alert as they stare me down. Flipping me flat on my back with a kick in my ribs, he praises, “You did good, kid. Didn’t know you had it in you. Must have really charmed and did a number on him because he looked enraged when he left.”

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