Page 95 of Hateful Games

I should leave, yet my feet are rooted to the spot.

Rosalie sneaks a glance at me. A mistake because the little action isn’t missed by the other three troublemakers. Miya sees me first and I know there’s no walking away now. Right then, she waves at me and shouts to come down.

Panic strikes Rosalie’s face.

Seeing her squirm is my favorite pastime, so I don’t think twice before taking the stairs in the corner that leads me directly to them. By now, every guest’s attention has zeroed in on me. Their hollering and teasing blend into the background as I approach the girls’ group. I purposely stand next to my bride, who tries her best to appear unflappable. But I’m riveted by the sight of her nervously biting the corner of her mouth while wearing a fierce expression.

“How long have you been watching, Nono?”

That bloody nickname will never leave me alone till the day I die. It’ll probably go over my tombstone. “For God’s sake, stop calling me that, Miya. We’re not kids anymore.”

“I’ll stop once you stop being so annoying.”

“Aww, it’s not that bad, Nono,” teases Iris with a giggle. “Way better than calling you Jiju.”

“I’m so telling this to Dash,” snickers Bianca before shaking her head and pulling out her phone. “Wait… I’ll just text him right now.”

My terrifying glare has no effect on either of them. Today is so not my day. First, it was those two jackasses upstairs, and now them.

“Oops, sorry,” says Miya with a wince. Though her face says the complete opposite.

Ignoring them, I divert my focus to a suspiciously quite Rosalie, who stares anywhere but at me. Up close, it’s harder not to gawk at her with my jaw dropped. Her lips are void of her red lipstick, naturally plump and pink. A rosy hue highlights her cheeks and those coal-black cat eyes slowly lift to mine.

Holding them for a heartbeat and letting her feel the heat of my stare, I roam my gaze down the hollow of her throat to a slim diamond necklace dangling between her cleavage. Curiosity has me paying extra attention to her henna-covered hands looking beautiful with intricate patterns and details.

I want to know if she’ll be wearing my name once the color darkens her naturally tanned skin. Circling her tiny waist, I carefully pull her as close as possible and bend to whisper huskily in her ear, “Did you say no?”

“What?” she mutters, pulling back and putting our mouths inches apart.

“Are you wearing my name on your skin, Rose?” I ask. Everyone ceases to exist until it’s only her I see. “Did you allow the guy to write my name on your hand?”

It must be the same for her because she sasses, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Answer me.”

“I will.” A dangerous and mischievous smile graces her face. “On one condition.”

I drag her even closer until our lower halves touch and she has to lift her arms and rest them on my shoulders. We’ve done this dance before, well-versed in the act of pretending to be madly in love in public. My hands drift to her hips and I keep her pressed against me possessively. “What?”

“You write my name on yours first.”

It’s my turn to smirk. “You think I won’t?”

“Will you, hubby?”

The nickname catches me completely off guard. Then there’s no taking it back. She meant it as a taunt but her eyes go round when she feels me thicken beneath my pants. A nervous swallow as her cheeks flush and my fingers flex against her, digging into the flesh.

She softly gasps in my ear.

Before she unintentionally gives me a full-blown hard-on, I take a step back. Turning to the mehndi guy, who is working on another woman, I call him out until he meets my gaze.

“I want you to write Rosalie’s name on my hand.”

Surprises flashes on his face and he quickly obeys, bringing the henna cone with him. Everyone, including the bridesmaids and my cousin, raptly watch as I raise my palm toward the guy. However, I’m peering into Rosalie’s face as her mouth drops open.

“Write Rose,” I say to the man.

The crowd is in awe and cheers upon hearing my nickname for her. The one I only ever called her in private. If I’m going to have her name on my skin, it’ll be the one I gave her. Nothing else.

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