Page 85 of Hateful Games

Men like Mihir need to be put in their place before they develop sore beliefs that they can control everyone around them. He’s used to everyone putting him on a pedestal. Not me, though. I’ll be damned before I let him interfere in our marriage.

He and my father may think the union will bring peace and prosperity.

All I’m plotting is to bring chaos and vengeance.

Mihir struts around priding himself on the self-made success of his ancestors and his value-fueled upbringing. In his quest to remain at the top, he destroys innocent lives in his wake without a care for the repercussions.

His time to pay has come.

It took me awhile to realize that this marriage could be a blessing in disguise. One I’m going to take full advantage of. For the longest time, I thought of ways to get my revenge for all he’s done to my family like a hidden venomous snake. At first, it was the raw determination to defeat him in the business world. Nothing stings more than watching your rival climb higher than you.

However, it wouldn’t have been as satisfying.

Observing him over the years, especially after the engagement, I’ve learned a lot about him. Perks of having your enemy closer.

Besides his business, it’s his pristine family reputation he prides himself in. Imagine what it’ll do to him if the world saw his true ugly face.

That behind closed doors, he’s a selfish and neglecting bastard. Or that he offered his sixteen-year-old daughter in exchange for a merger with his rival.

His fragile ego won’t be able to handle it.

All I need is the contract Rosa and I signed, and then I’ll destroy his world brick by brick, watching it fall like dominos.

Not bothering to knock, I enter his man cave.

Last time I was here, I was just as powerless as Rosa. Bound by family obligations. Although, she may say otherwise. The women think they’re sacrificing in the world of the rich. Little do they know, men are just as duty-bound.

Inside, the scent of tobacco and wood permeates the air.

At the slam of the door, Mihir looks up from the file he was reading and casts it aside upon seeing me. His brows pull together for a second before he resumes his annoyed expression. As if I’m a nuisance.

“Nova,” he says, leaning back against his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I saw Rosalie.”

His expression doesn’t waver. “And?”

“And I want to know why she looked like she had seen a ghost.”

“Ignore the drama queen,” he replies dismissively. “She was due for a lecture.”

I reach his desk in three strides and push my hands in my pockets to withhold the urge to punch his wrinkly face. Still peering beneath his nose at me. “Did the lecture include you laying your hands on her? Last I checked, it involved talking with your mouth.”

The vein in his forehead bulges. “Are you accusing me of hitting her?”

“Did you?”

“Don’t tell me how to treat my own daughter.”

“That’s the thing.” My voice is dark and edgy. “Rosalie became mine the moment she signed those papers ten years ago. It means you don’t talk to her, touch her, or lecture her without first going through me.”

“Know your place, boy,” he growls furiously. “You’re standing in my house.”

“Your house means shit to me. I make more than it costs every single minute.” Leaning over his desk, I pin him with a deathly stare. “What my fiancée wears or does is none of your concern. If she wants to dress in black or all the goddamn colors in the rainbow, then that’s what she’ll wear. I said yes to marrying the Rosalie you’re keen on locking away in your house, not a spineless girl without a mind of her own.”

“She’s already manipulating you with her pathetic tears,” he says arrogantly with a low chuckle. “Rosalie needs to be tamed every now and then.”

“How about you leave the taming to me?”

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