Scandalous Games (Arranged Games Book 1)

His challenging and arrogant promise leaves me fuming and my imagination running wild. My mind, fantasizing all the filthy ways he could seduce me. The confidence that lies underneath his tone that he can have me begging without laying a finger on me is irritating.

I especially hate how my body is attuned to his every command, every dirty word spoken, betraying me by melting at his husky voice.

Before I can respond with a comeback, Rosa speaks from behind him.

“Hey, Bee, we have to leave.”

I sidestep from behind Dash’s hulking frame, instantly missing the warmth of his touch as his hand slips from my shorts. Of course, only he would find a loophole and use it to his advantage. I can’t actually believe he had the nerve to grab my ass with our friends standing a few feet from us. It’s my fault, really. Didn’t I sense a trap when he agreed so easily? Should’ve listened to my gut.

He’s unashamed, arrogant, and wicked.

And apparently even in public, I’m unprotected from his devious ways.

Justin is nowhere to be seen when I look around the room while Iris and Rosa stand beside each other with an apologetic expression. Well, Iris does while Rosa’s face is pinched in pure annoyance. The one she wears when it’s anything related to Nova.

“I thought you were gonna stay for longer?” I remind her and she shrugs.

“My mom wants me to go look at wedding venues,” comes Rosa’s disinterested answer. “Apparently, not all of the money in the world puts you high on the waiting list.”

“And I’m meeting Nathan,” adds Iris.

I feel Dash’s body heat and his musky scent before he presses against my back and leans forward to whisper a taunt in my ear, “And you say being alone with me doesn’t scare you.”

“Shut up.” I glare at him, making his lips twitch in amusement. Facing my two grinning friends, I roll my eyes before moving closer as I tug them both out of the room. “I’ll walk you both out.”

“Shall we start calling him jiju?” whispers Iris. Rosa snorts behind her hand.

“Oh, you find it funny, Ro?” I snapped before smiling sweetly. “We can call Nova jiju too if you like it so much.”

Her mouth flattens into a thin line. “You wouldn’t.”

“Stop, you two,” says Iris in a cool voice before stealing my attention by fanning her face. “Dash is superhot, Bee. I understand now why you gave your virginity to him.”

If I didn’t know Iris was wholeheartedly committed to Nathan, I’d be jealous of her awestruck voice. Then I remember I have no claim on Dash, despite our mutually beneficial arrangement. He might play the act of the doting husband in front of the world, but he’s free to secretly fuck whomever he wants.

Which won’t be a hardship for him since he’s all about discreet affairs.

As soon we reach the door, they turn to me expectantly before Rosa bluntly asks, “Are you going to fuck him?”

“What? No,” I say, affronted. “I don’t want him.”

“Is that why you let him grope your ass when we were inside?” Rosa smirks. My cheeks flame and it’s all the answer they need. Turning to Iris, Rosa says, “I told you.”

Great. I just gave them ammunition to tease me mercilessly.

“Let’s not forget you seduced him at the club,” adds Iris to which Rosa nods.

“Because I wanted him to agree to the plan,” I exclaim. “I wasn’t going to fuck him.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

I shake my head as I huff, “I’m not going to sleep with a man who has dirty threesomes on a daily basis. He’s a manwhore.” I could not sound more judgmental.

“Only means he’ll be exceptional in bed,” winks Iris. He was my first yet I knew deep in my bones he was the best. The men later in my life only proved me right.

Rosa simply shrugs and pitches in her two cents, “It’s not like you’ll fall in love with him. Just enjoy the free orgasms and say goodbye once Arya is married.”

“Get out, you both.” I shut the door on their laughing faces and breathe a deep sigh.

There’s no more denying that I’m physically attracted to Dash and my body craves his rough touch, the fantasies he paints and his deep, dominating voice when he’s turned on. Knowing he’s my ex’s stepbrother and made it his mission to uproot my life in the past doesn’t make me desire him any less.

However, it’s not enough for me to have sex with him again and cross the line into dangerous territory. Our connection only brushes the surface and no matter how much I ignore it, I’ve never been the girl who has meaningless sex. Especially with a man who infuriates me half the time.

I’m not going to give in to the pull that breathes like a live wire between us.

He and I are forbidden and always will be.

Our history is too complicated to be anything but.

And being around Dash also brings up the memories of Niall, in spite of the cage I’ve locked them in. Mostly, the anger and the pain that he never once called or tried to win me back, let alone apologize for cheating on me. When I had caught him, he hadn’t even pulled out of the girl even after seeing me standing there with tears streaming down my face.

All I remember is running and ending up outside Dash’s bedroom.

I stupidly thought I had moved on from Niall’s betrayal but when you’ve never found closure, the scars never fully heal. The wound may try to seal itself but all it takes is one scratch for the stitches to come undone.

It’s not that I’m still in love with Niall. Because over the years, I realized he was never the one for me. It’s the ugly damage it’s caused to my teenage heart that I haven’t been able to repair. Every time I tried to date in the past, a flicker of doubt would make itself home inside me like a slow poison and kill everything.

Separating from him and looking back on our relationship, little snippets or memories showed me he wasn’t as perfect a boyfriend as he pretended to be. There were times he would belittle me in subtle ways, disregarding my feelings, but I could never see past the lovesick fool he had made me.

My first heartbreak became my ultimate downfall.

It hardened the layers around my heart until I stopped letting anyone in. Sadly, they’re still as strong as ever. They’ve covered my heart so deep that no one can ever rupture it.

The idea of love… feels like a hopeless dream. Because all it brings with it is a chaos of sadness and loathing. All I know is, I never want to be the pining, love-obsessed girl I once was.

“Kitten.”

Upon hearing Dash’s soft voice, I turn around from gazing out the floor-to-ceiling glass wall to face him. His expression is pinched in concern and burning curiosity while the rest of him is impassive and cold.

“Yeah, Dash?” I ask, clearing my throat.

Jeez! How long was I zoned out? I ponder as he continues to stare intensely. Can he tell I was wondering about his stepbrother? It makes me wonder whether they still hate each other. Do they still talk? Or if he bragged to Niall that he and I slept together? Niall was petty enough to do it, had the situation been reversed.

Most importantly, do I even wanna know? It’d be nothing less than opening a can of worms. Maybe it’s safe to continue to ignore the elephant in the room. The less deep we go into our shared past, the easier our coming days will be.

Or you’re just not courageous, my mind taunts viciously.

“Do you need help moving your stuff?” he asks. I expel a sigh when he doesn’t grill me about my earlier thoughts.

I focus on him and frown. “I’ve already moved all my necessary things, Dash.”

“The master bedroom upstairs is empty.”

“Yeah. I left it for you and took one of the bedrooms down the hall on this floor.”

His gaze narrows dangerously and his forearms bulge when he crosses them in front of his wide chest. “What is wrong with the master bedroom?”

“Umm… nothing.”

Every corner of his penthouse is more stunning, spacious, and lively than mine. The stairs on my right curve and lead to the floor upstairs. As soon as I took the tour, my mind was bombarded with all the ideas I could implement to spruce this place up and make it perfect. Of course, the master bedroom is the best of all rooms with a glass wall on each side of the four-poster bed and a balcony in the front.

Since Dash owns the apartment, I couldn’t be selfish and steal it by calling dibs. Trust me, I was tempted. Instead, I chose the one downstairs, far away from his. So I really don’t understand why he’s suddenly in a pissy mood at having it to himself.

He takes a threatening step forward and tilts his head as he demands, “Then how come your bags are in the other bedroom, wifey?”

“If you think I’m sharing a room with you, you’re delusional, my fake husband,” I announce the second the meaning behind his words register. It’s not as if someone is coming to visit us and check the proof of our relationship.

I gulp, my back hitting the wall as he crosses the distance between us and cages me in. Bending to be as close as possible while keeping his promise of not to touch me when alone, his breath fans across my lips as he growls, “I didn’t ask you to move in because I needed a roommate, kitten. You’re going to be my wife soon and there’s no way you are allowed anywhere but in my bed.”

“Did you even listen to my rules?” My anger rises at his commanding tone, trying to have his way. Lifting my chin, I remind him, “No bossing me around.”

“I told you I’ll give you a choice. So either you shift your stuff upstairs or I’m bringing mine down to yours.”

“That’s not a choice, you asshole.”

“I only had one condition and so far, you’re not holding your end of the bargain, kitten.”

My breasts brush against his wide chest as I exhale a rough breath. The urge to push him away rises but I ignore it because it will mean touching him. No way am I giving him the satisfaction.

“It wasn’t mentioned that I had to share the bedroom with you, Dash. I moved in like you asked. So, really, it’s your fault,” I say in a breezy tone.

Instead of making him fume like I intended, he becomes eerily calm. I sense the devious wheels turning in his head and my insides tighten into a tensed ball when a tiny smirk lights up his face.

“You say being alone with me doesn’t scare you but your actions say otherwise.”

“For the last time, I’m not scared,” I snap.

“Then prove it.”

The manipulative, bossy bastard simply shrugs and his eyebrow arches arrogantly as he waits for my answer. Like he doesn’t already know that I never back down from a challenge, especially from him. I’m torn between telling him to stick his “then prove it” up his ass and proving him wrong. The latter half of me wins.

“Fine. I’ll share the master bedroom with you.” And annoy you into regretting it. I keep the promise to myself. When he continues to breathe down my neck, I sigh, “Will you step back, please?”

“Anything for you, wifey.”

“Then stop calling me wifey.”

“I’m just practicing,” he replies with an innocent smirk.

“Don’t kill him,” I mutter to myself as I shove past him and walk away. His amused chuckle, following and taunting me down the hall.