Page 15 of Sinful Games

I washed my hands with more force than necessary, catching my reflection in the mirror. Rosy cheeks, red eyes, and quivering lips—yep, I was officially drunk.

Bravo,Caia.

I sighed at my reflection, feeling a pang of disillusionment as I wondered if this was really what adulthood had come to.

Grabbing my clutch, I stumbled out of the stall, phone clutched in one hand as I pushed open the bathroom door. I was so preoccupied with my search that I didn't notice the wall—at least, that's what it felt like—until my forehead met it with a dull thud. I pressed a hand against the pain, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me.

As I blinked away the stars, my eyes slowly focused on the towering figure before me.

There, standing in the doorway like a misplaced statue of intimidation, was Alexsei Romaniev. He had the kind of build that made a tree trunk look scrawny, and his eyes, the bluest I’d ever seen, seemed to pierce right through me.

It was as if someone had decided to personify intimidation and then dressed it up in a designer suit.

What the hell is he doing here?

I stared up at him, my heart racing.

Romaniev’s eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his lips as he reached out and grabbed my chin, his fingers pressing firmly against my skin. The touch was hot and invasive, sending a tingling burn through my face.

“Almost didn’t recognize you with all that shit on your face,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Planning to enroll in a fucking clown school?”

I winced at his grip, trying to ignore the sting while glaring up at him.

I tried to pull away, but his hold was ironclad.

“Careful,” he murmured, his smirk widening. “Wouldn’t want to mess up all that makeup you’ve caked on."

His fingers lingered a moment longer, as if he was relishing the discomfort he was causing, before he finally letgo.

Bastard.

I shot him a glare, my lips curling into a sarcastic smile that barely masked my irritation. With deliberate slowness, I stepped closer, pressing my palms flat against his chest through his grey suit. The heat of his body radiated through the fabric, and I could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my hands. Rising on my tiptoes, I let my lips graze his ear, my breath warm and tantalizing.

“Keep talking sweet to me, Romaniev,” I murmured, my voice a low, sultry whisper. “And I might just start believing you actually like this face of mine.”

I could feel his body tense as I lingered in that tight space between us. The air seemed to crackle with the heat of our proximity. When I tried to pull away, he seized the back of my neck, holding me firmly in place. He pressed himself against me, his lips brushing against my ear, his hot breath creating a sensation of molten warmth on my bare neck. The contact was electrifying, and for a moment, everything else seemed to blur into the background.

“I’d have to be fucking blind or high to likeanythingabout you, Caia,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.

The comment hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water, and I shoved him away with all the force I could muster.

Whether it was the alcohol in my system, the anger burning in my chest, or the bitter taste of self-loathing on my tongue, I was losing all sense of decency and politeness. This man was pushing me to the edge, making me want to hurt him and humiliate him just as much as he had done to me.

I stared at him, my voice low and venomous. “Funny, Romaniev. I was just thinking how someone with such a big ego must have an even smaller—” I let my eyes drop to his body before finishing, “—intellect. But then again, it makes sense. You need something to make up for the lack of anything worth liking about you, too.”

His expression darkened, but before he could retort, I spun on my heel and stormed out.

Of course, in true Alexsei Romaniev fashion, he followed me, his imposing figure towering over me as I tried to make my escape.

“Interesting dress. Trying to snag a rich husband to rescue you from your Papa’s clutches?”

I shot him a withering look and turned my attention to finding a server, desperate for one last drink to numb the night. As luck would have it, one of them in a white suit with a black tie approached, his forced smile barely hiding his boredom. I snatched two glasses from his tray, downed them in quick gulps, and shoved the empty glasses back onto the tray, nearly toppling it.

I turned back to Romaniev, a sneer curling my lips. “And you? Still searching for a girl desperate enough to trade a blow job for your bloody fortune? It must be exhausting being you, constantly compensating for that pathetic excuse of a personality.”

It seemed I’d hit a nerve, as he looked ready to kill me on the spot. If his eyes were guns, I’d be sprawled on the ground in a bloody heap.

“You seem really obsessed with who’s sucking my dick, Caia,” Romaniev sneered as he got closer, his breath warm on my skin. He reached out, grabbing a loose strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear like he had every right. “Careful, or I might think you’re begging to be next in line to wrap those pretty lips around it.”

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