Page 46 of Hateful Games

“Are you serious!?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “This isn’t the time to let your ego get in the way, Rosalie.”

“We can’t let him get away,” I counter. “Do you trust me? You said you wanted to be my friend. It’s your chance to prove it.”

“You don’t play fair.”

I quirk one eyebrow and wait.

She huffs. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

“Let’s draw him out in a corner and demand why the fuck he’s following us.”

“He’s twice our size.”

“We’re two people and I have pepper spray.”

“You better hope that’s enough to take him down.”

“We’ll be fine.”

She and I circle around the block aimlessly for the next half hour and the man keeps following us while keeping a short distance. He obviously isn’t bright because we purposely pass the same shop twice and he doesn’t even notice. It also becomes evident he is stalking me, not Miya.

Why, though? I have no clue.

Miya and I concocted a plan that we’ll pretend to say goodbye and she’ll take a cab while I would draw him out to a dark alley. I shut down her protests of it being too risky and dangerous, which it is.

But I am not letting that man get away with scaring me.

I’ve had enough of it.

I hug Miya and say goodbye. Then I pause to check my compact powder and see the stalker’s reflection in the mirror. He is closer now, pretending to check his watch. I resume walking again and see an alley up ahead with no one around.

Heart pumping faster with adrenaline, I move toward it. Turning sharply, I hide behind a dumpster just as the man rounds the corner. He searches left and right. The streetlight points right at his face, making me shudder in alarm.

I’ve seen him before.

Back home a few times. He enters deeper into the alley, yanking out his phone. While he’s distracted, I step out of the shadows and pepper spray him right in the face. Behind him, Miya appears and stands guard with what looks like a rock. Her choice of weapon would be funny if it wasn’t for the very tangible threat before us.

“Why the fuck are you following me?”

He shrieks in pain, rubbing at his eyes. Appearing to be in his forties, he’s built like a linebacker, which doesn’t ease my anxiety. He recovers slightly and puts up his hands, ambling closer. “I mean no harm, Miss Kapoor.”

“I asked. Who. Are. You?” I growl, holding up the pepper spray in warning.

“I’m your bodyguard.”

Chapter Thirteen

Nova

Rosalie comes storming in, guns blazing—figuratively speaking. The front door to my apartment slamming behind her while a pissed Miya trails after her, staring at me with disappointment.

A blazing fury of fire, wrath, and beauty stops right before me.

I lean back and relax against the couch. Malcolm glancing once at the girls before resuming to scroll on his phone, as if it has the most riveting sight on earth on it.

He’s fooling no one.

“You put a fucking bodyguard on me!” yells Rosalie with barely concealed rage, throwing her shopping bags to the side.

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