Page 98 of Hateful Games

“I’m just doing my bridesmaid duties.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” I taunt before taking mercy on her and exiting the room. Bianca takes the lead, her steps so eager she’s literally running. Throwing open the door, she stops short from barely slamming into none other than Dash.

He stands outside, fist raised to knock on the door. His broody face relaxes a little as soon as he sees Bianca. His chest expanding as he runs his gaze down her appreciatively. “You look so beautiful, kitten.”

In an instant, both of them forget the rest of us.

It’s the moment I’ve read and obsessed over countless times where the main characters forget the world around them until all that exists is them. Witnessing it is nothing short of magical. It’s what makes me know they’re perfect for each other.

Bianca takes a step forward just as his arm circles her naked waist in the lehnga and yanks her flush against him. “What is taking so long?”

“We were just coming downstairs,” Bianca murmurs.

I clear my throat, snapping Dash’s attention to mine. His expression turning hard at the interruption. No surprise there.

“Stop hogging my wife, Rosalie,” he grunts.

I smile deviously. “Is my wedding an inconvenience for you, lover boy?”

“Did you think otherwise?”

“Careful or I’d be tempted to keep her away from you even longer.”

“Stop, you two!” sighs Bianca with an amused smile. Before rising on her toes to kiss him, which he only ends after he’s satisfied. Bianca breathlessly whispers, “Just a few more minutes and then I’m all yours, darling.”

His green eyes soften and he cups her cheek, stealing another kiss. As if he needs her to breathe. “Promise?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll wait downstairs.” Reluctantly, he lets her go and disappears down the hall.

“Do the butterflies ever go away, Bee?” teases Iris.

Bianca blushes. “Never.”

“Let’s go before he comes searching again,” snickers Iris.

“Or Nathan,” I add.

“Oh, we’re safe. He’s busy with Nova.”

Just hearing my fiancé’s name brings the shivering memory of this afternoon. I can’t believe he actually wrote my name. Or how in a single glance, he found his on mine. In a couple of minutes, I’ll be wearing his ring, too, on the same finger.

A claim that’ll irrevocably change my world.

I can only imagine how smug he’ll be then.

He’s silently unhinged, unstoppable in savagely tying me to him in every way.

The truth is, even if our pasts weren’t twisted because of some rivalry and it was a simple arranged marriage, I still wouldn’t be willing and prepared. Or truly happy. Because how can another decide on the person you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with?

The whole concept is based on the logic that your parents know your choice in your life partner better than you do yourself. When the blunt truth is that no parent truly knows their child. Although they might think otherwise.

Each of us have a side, dreams, hopes, and values we keep close to our hearts while waiting for someone worthy to share them with. No one but you should get to decide who the one is for you.

I don’t want to be just another girl falling in the same rabbit hole. An ancient tradition we’ve been fed for centuries and are too afraid to break.

Some might say I have gamophobia, I call it being a free-spirited person.

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