Page 48 of Hateful Games

I wanted to know the real her, not the one her father painted to the media. Maybe one or two dirty secrets to have the upper hand.

Just another plot device to ruin her.

So, I hired a personal bodyguard independently, who watched her twenty-four seven and reported back to me for a couple of days.

It makes me a bloody bastard. But fuck if I care.

A small part of me also wanted to protect her. Mind-boggling, I know. But the truth all the same. Especially as vivid memories of my own kidnapping flared. Her family may be dangerous but they are nothing compared to mine. My enemies are the ones that lurk in the dark. They wouldn’t hesitate to use her against me as a weakness.

Because to the public, we’re a happy couple, whose love brought the two rival families together. A spin put in the media so no one uncovers the real ugly truth.

The first time I sabotaged her date after finding out about it, I did it for my own amusement.

But with the next and then another, it became a toxic addiction. It became about control. About the power I had over my fiancée without her even knowing it. Besides, I didn’t secretly upend her life, ruin her dates, and threaten each man just so some nameless asshole can steal her for himself.

Until today, I’ve been patiently waiting for the day she finds out, just to see which creative way she’ll use to try to kill me next.

“Why?” she demands.

“To protect you, of course.”

“As it appears, it’s you I need protection from.”

I hold back laughter when she air-quotes protection. “I would be more concerned with your blind dates.”

Gaze widening in disbelief, her jaw grinds. I wait for the wheels to turn in her head as she connects the dots. I smirk when recognition dawns and she curses, “You bastard!”

That does it.

She launches herself at me. I easily dodge her fist coming for my face and grab her around the waist. I use her momentum to pick her up in my arms and rise from the couch. Wouldn’t want her to mistakenly flash her panties to my friend.

Twisting her arms behind her back, I cross and hold them hostage.

“What the hell did you do to my dates, you controlling, manipulative dickhead?” she hurls in my ear, trying her best to uncuff herself out of my hold. It only enrages her more, like a wildcat, when she fails.

“I’m going to have a private chat with my lovely fiancée,” I tell the other two bystanders in my living room, one watching with her mouth agape. One moment I’m distracted, the next I hiss in pain because Rosalie decides to use the only weapon she has left—her teeth. They lock on my collarbone sharply. Locking my fist in her hair, I tug her head back and earn a satisfied smirk in return. I mumble to the others, “Sorry, I mean my bratty fiancée.”

“Then stop picking me up like a child, idiot.”

“You better hope to God you didn’t draw blood, little hellion.”

“Aww, is it hurting?” she taunts with a pout. “Pussy.”

Malcolm’s shoulders shake in silent laughter.

“Stop. Both of you,” scolds Miya. “Quit being an arsehole, Nono. What you did wasn’t right at all. We were both scared for our lives.”

“Stay out of this, Miya.”

“Put me down,” snaps Rosalie.

I hike her higher until she’s hanging off my shoulder and her ass is in my face, tempting me to spank it red. She wisely doesn’t hit or bite me, as if remembering the spanking from the fight night.

Miya tries to follow us when I lead Rosalie down the hall. But doesn’t make it one step before Malcolm grabs her wrist without lifting his eyes from the phone and holds her back.

Reaching my bedroom, I step through and lock us inside. Once again, I lower a pissed Rosalie to the floor and cage her against the door.

“Why didn’t half of my dates show up, Nova?” Her tone is demanding and all business. “What the hell did you threaten them with?”

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