Page 59 of Hateful Games

“What?”

“He handcuffed me first!”

“Jeez. What the hell is wrong with you two?”

“I didn’t know his parents were coming.”

“Fuck!”

“Did you drive here?” I ask hopefully, and suggest, “Maybe we can quickly run back and bring him here.”

Miya checks her watch and curses. “The ceremony is about to begin any minute now.”

Behind her, through the doorway, I see everyone filing into their seats. I am fully panicking now. There’s no way Nova will make it on time. We’ll have to tell his parents that it was my fault. If Teresa didn’t hate me before, she definitely will now.

“What do we do?” I mutter, chewing my lip nervously. “Maybe Malcolm can help.”

“No!” she says sharply.

I quirk my eyebrow and drawl, “Okayyy.”

“I mean, he’s busy himself. Besides, there’s no way to talk to him with the bodyguards surrounding him.”

“Is he really like a prince or something?”

“He’s cousins to the prince, which probably makes him a duke or something else. I don’t know.”

“But you live in London.”

“I haven’t lived here my whole life,” she retorts and then becomes serious. “I told you to stay under Nova’s radar for today, Rosalie. It’ll be a hundred times harder to sneak into tonight’s party because he’ll be watching you like a hawk.”

“I honestly cannot focus on that right now, Miya. We have other pressing matters.”

“We’ll just to have to tell Uncle Danish.”

“That I have his son hostage? Hell no,” I say in a disgruntled tone.

“Aunty Teresa will send the whole army in search of him if you don’t.”

Sighing, I curse my luck. I know she’s right and we’re running out of time. A headache forms and I rub my forehead before reluctantly agreeing, “Okay, fine. I’ll tell them.”

Miya intertwines our arms as we reenter the auditorium. In the right corner, at the front, I see Danish pacing with a phone to his ear. Teresa is nowhere to be seen, making me insanely worried.

I’m running through all the possible explanations behind my actions with no other choice as we bridge the distance. Danish turns, frowning as we stop before him.

Miya squeezes my hand encouragingly as I clear my throat. “I wanted to tell that Nova—”

My words die on my tongue when I hear a small female laugh from behind. Puzzled, I slowly twist around, only to blink back in utter shock. Even Miya goes ramrod still.

Nova, sharply dressed in an all-black three-piece suit with his hair perfectly styled and highlighting the angular structure of his face, stands with his mom. A small smile graces his mouth as she adjusts the knot of his tie, gazing at him with adoration and pride.

How the fuck did he get here?

Does he practice magic?

He whispers something to her, making her laugh in that same melodic baritone. This tender and loving side of him with no mask takes me aback. My mind imagining he’s doing some sort of sorcery.

“Did you have something to say, Rosalie?” questions Danish from behind.

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