Scandalous Games: Chapter 22

“I’m guessing congratulations are in order, Stern,” Justin mocks, slapping today’s newspaper on my desk. There’s a photo of Bianca and I standing outside the restaurant, holding hands and staring at each other, on the front page with the bold title “Wedding Bells are around the Corner?”

“And an engagement gift too.”

“Asshole,” he retorts before falling serious. “Is it true or just another media ploy bullshit?”

“What have they written?”

“They’re apparently labeling you a knight in shining armor after someone saw you rescuing Bianca. The person overheard you threaten her father, then announce you’re her fiancé. I’m guessing some poor waiter sold the story for some extra cash.”

The media has become nothing less than a god these days with their eyes and ears missing zilch once they’ve caught you in their crosshairs. No corner in the world you can hide from them. So, it’s no surprise to me that they caught Bianca and I, and wrote the gossipy article in less than three days.

At least they had their facts somewhat correct.

“Sounds about right.” I shrug at Justin, leaning back in my chair. “Veer Chopra is a fucking prick and treats his daughter like a commodity. Me threatening him was an exaggeration, though.”

“Men like him see everyone as a threat if it involves their daughter,” Justin sneers before fixing his inquisitive gaze on me. “Speaking of daughter, when did you fall in love with Bianca and what possessed you enough to propose to her? Just this weekend, you were at each other’s throats.”

“It’s just a temporary business arrangement.”

“Care to elaborate?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Details don’t matter. She wanted a fake husband so I said yes when she asked me.”

“You mean, she played you into saying yes?” He laughs out loud. “Is that why you went all ballistic on my ass that night, because you thought she was gonna ask me?”

“Shut up, dickhead.”

“Fuck! That woman is a savage.”

His amusement grates on my nerves, making me grit my teeth while he continues to snort. If he wasn’t my only best friend, I swear I would have buried him six feet under the ground a long time ago.

Once his laughter dies down, he stares at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before speaking, “Are you waiting for me to tell you it’s a bad fucking idea?”

“I’m not going back on my word.”

“She’s your brother’s girl, Dash,” he reasons, speaking in a placating tone.

The words still enrage me none the same and I grit out, “Ex-girlfriend. He cheated on her, remember?”

“Does she know the truth about Niall?”

I stiffen, guilty and disturbing memories replaying inside my head. It’s not often I think about them since they’re a chapter of my life I’ve tried hard to forget. Living in the past has never helped anybody.

“No,” I finally answer. “And I’m not going to.”

“You can’t keep it from her.” His tone is hard and forceful. “She deserves to know before finding out from someone else, which she will once your lives intertwine as a couple.”

“Our relationship isn’t real for me to confess my sins of the past to Bianca. It’s none of her fucking business anyways.”

I ignore his disappointing and sympathetic look boring into me. Besides, it’s not as if she’s asked me about Niall, which tells me she wants our history to remain just that. There’s no need for rehashing the ghosts of the past when it’s what neither of us want.

Because the alternative will have her ending up hating me.

And I’m not going to destroy us before I’ve even had her.

“You’re making a mistake,” he warns darkly. “But since you’re once again blinded by your lust for her, I suggest you be careful and don’t break her heart.”

“It won’t come to that.” I shrug. “I’ll be out of her life before then.”

His head shakes like I’m in denial. What can I say? Sometimes denial is bliss.

Justin is worrying for no reason. Though I don’t fault him for trying to be a good friend. I’ll just have to prove him wrong that I won’t let lust cloud my judgment, unlike last time. The sound of my phone pinging saves me from continuing this taxing conversation and I grab it to read the message.

“I have to go,” I announce, standing up as I button my jacket and put my phone in my pocket after texting the driver to bring my car around.

“Where?” Justin questions, doing the same.

“I’m moving into my new apartment today.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Don’t you have your own company to run?” I taunt. “I invited you for a weekend and not for you to practically move in, dickhead.”

He rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we walk out of my office. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me to fuck off? I thought we were BBFFs, Stern.”

“BBFS?”

“Boy best friends forever.”

“The fuck!” My lips curl in a wince. “What illegal stuff are you smoking now?”

“You don’t like it?”

“If you say you do, I’m throwing you over the roof.”

“What’s wrong with it? My niece taught me that one last night on video call.”

“You being a grown-ass man, for starters.” I toss his arm from my back as we step inside the elevator and turn to him. I mutter under my breath, “And you call me an idiot.”

“So I guess ‘I’m Joey to your Chandler’ is out of the question?”

“Did you hit your head somewhere?” I jibe while getting annoyed by the minute. That’s the thing about Justin. One second he can be imparting wisdom like a priest and the next, joking around like a goof.

“Besides, it would be the opposite,” I throw over my shoulder as we reach the lobby. “I get more pussy than you do.”

***

We arrive at Bianca’s apartment building just in time as the movers from my hotel. I had plans to move two days ago but both hers and my work clashed. She took half a day off and thank fuck, because I wasn’t waiting any longer. Had she not, I might have just kidnapped her from her office.

Justin steps beside me as we enter the lavish lobby and I’m pondering whether or not to tell him the real reason why I was so adamant in buying this place when he beats me to it.

“What’s so good about living here?” he muses. “I thought you weren’t interested in buying a house in the city.”

“This is more convenient.”

He eyes me suspiciously at my lackluster tone. “You haven’t been acting yourself since you met Bianca, Dash. It’s concerning.”

“You’re imagining things with all the free time you suddenly have on your hands.”

I have half a mind to shut the elevator door in his face since apparently, he’s in a really chatty mood today. Usually when he acts like this, something else is bothering him, so he creates diversions to avoid dealing with it until he’s ready.

He leans on the far side and smirks. “You haven’t fucked another woman in the last two weeks despite being at The Mirage on most nights. And let’s not forget, you’re an engaged man when you’ve basically been the preacher boy against marriage your whole life.”

“Why do you keep forgetting it’s fake?” I growl, exasperated.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Not bothering to answer, I stare at the number of floors going up while praying we don’t run into Bianca. Hopefully, she’s not back from her office yet so I don’t have to deal with a smug Justin and feed more gasoline to the fire.

The elevator finally stops in front of the private lobby, leading to the penthouse, and both of us stride inside. I notice a few big boxes lying on the side waiting to be unpacked when high-pitched voices followed by laughter from around the corner fills the apartment. My eyes close as all my hopes are quashed because I recognize one of the voices as Bianca’s.

Justin stalks in the direction of the noise while I trail after him and I hear his low intake of breath, before his feet come to a halt. My curiosity is piqued at his reaction and when my gaze lands at the view, I’m as stunned as him while my cock twitches as Bianca’s perky ass stares back at me from the floor.

God! Is she trying to kill me?

Possessiveness flares like an old friend that Justin is also enjoying the same view. Her tiny denim shorts ride up her ass cheeks and I want to spank it before covering it up from another man’s gaze.

The girls—Bianca, Rosalie, and another one, whom I don’t recognize—remain oblivious to our rapt presence. Their tangled limbs are everywhere that it looks like they’re having an orgy, only they’re playing a game of Twister. Who fucking plays it in the middle of the day? Or at all?

“I know for a fact that you can spread your legs wider than that, Iris,” grumbles a frustrated Rosalie. “Stop cheating.”

“Fuck me!” curses Justin under his breath, looking in awe at the women. I can only imagine the dirty fantasies he’s picturing in his head. Bianca better not be in one of them.

The girls are so loud and arguing among themselves that they don’t hear me when I clear my throat. Bianca has her ass up high while bent over Rosalie, their lips almost touching, and I want to yank her to my side because I don’t like anybody touching or getting close to her besides me. Apparently, all humans fall into that category.

“Can I join, ladies?” Justin asks loudly, ignoring me.

They all go down in a heap at his flirty voice before two pairs of wide eyes and a set of glaring ones meet ours. Bianca is still leaning over Rosa with her head turned to face us and when our gazes lock, color darkens her cheeks before shifting to Justin.

I glare at him when I catch him staring at what’s mine. “Take your eyes off her ass.”

“Fake? Yeah right,” he mumbles low, so only I can hear his taunt.

“When did you guys arrive?” I hear Bianca question.

“Ever heard of knocking, trespassers?” Rosalie demands at the same time.

“Ro!” I hear the third one hiss to her hellfire friend.

“This is my apartment, Rosalie,” I reply in a bored voice.

“And Bianca’s,” comes her smug response.

“It’s not mine, Ro,” answers Bianca with a roll of her eyes when she mistakes my silence as offended. Not that I care when I actually like calling it ours, which it is for the foreseeable future.

“Of course it is, Bee. What’s his is yours now,” she says matter-of-factly, then quirks one eyebrow at me. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Fiancé?”

My hungry gaze is on Bianca when I rasp, “Whatever she desires, it’s hers.”

We are suspended in an intense stare-off while Bianca tries not to blush and fails. It gives me the moment to take in her unabashedly and notice her messy bun, the slope of her neck bare under her off-the-shoulder-top, and not an inch of makeup on her stunning face.

This is what I’ll come home to every night.

“You’re moving in together?” Justin’s loud voice steals her attention.

I mask my expression into boredom because I’ve already shown more than I want to and can feel her friends observing my every move like a hawk. As much as I’m glad she has protective friends, I really wish they would leave and take Justin with them. I’m already regretting bringing him in the first place.

“They are.” Again, Rosalie answers before I can and explains, “See, that’s what happens when two people get engaged.”

“You have a mouth on you,” he taunts, irritation flashing in his eyes.

Rosalie is unaffected as she tilts her head and scoffs, “Next you’ll tell me I have a nose, eyes, and ears.”

I hide my chuckle at her retort and while they continue to bicker, I stalk toward Bianca who watches them with an amused expression. It immediately transforms into fervor when I step in her personal space, crowding her against the table behind.

“Miss me, kitten?” I tease, resting my hands on her sides.

“Your I’m-the-boss-of-Bianca personality? Not at all.”

Her fake indignation and breathless voice pulls a low chuckle out of me, making a shiver run down her spine. It’s as unmistakable as her intoxicating scent. A wayward curl falls into her dark eyes so I tuck it behind her ear with my finger. She leans into my touch before retreating like she realized it at the last moment.

It fills me with satisfaction that she’s as affected by our proximity as I am.

“Dash,” she whispers, and I instinctively lean closer to her tempting lips.

Her nervous swallow has me tracing my finger down her ear to her collarbone, where her pulse is pounding rapidly. Goosebumps rise on her silky skin, making me want to press my mouth there and suck until I taste them on my tongue.

“Yeah, kitten?” I rasp, staring into her dilated pupils.

“You’re touching me.”

“I am.” I continue tracing my finger back and forth on her bare shoulder.

“The rules.”

“What about them?”

“You promised you wouldn’t break them.” She tries to sound strong but her voice falls into a breathless whisper.

“No touching when we’re alone,” I repeat her rule before smirking. “We’re not alone, kitten.”

Her gaze narrows dangerously but she ends up looking adorable. She tries to cross her arms in a defiant stance but the tight space only puts her flush against me. It only maddens her further while pleasing me.

“Loophole or not, it’s still breaking it,” she complains.

“Your mistake, my gain.”

Ignoring our friends’ loud presence behind us, I inch my hand lower to the hem of her thin top and slide it underneath to dig my fingers into her waist. A tiny gasp escapes her mouth but it’s enough to distract her as I shove my hand in the waistband of her jeans.

“Dash!” She moans when my palm cups her ass and I squeeze while her panicked eyes stare over my shoulder. No need for her to worry though, she’s perfectly hidden from their view.

As if I’ll let them see the flush on her skin and eyes drowning in desire.

“I’m a breasts man, kitten, but seeing you bent over with your ass staring at me, I wanted to fuck you right then and there.” Her whole body vibrates, eyes going round, and I roughly palm her ass, pulling apart her cheeks until she rises on her toes to escape my touch. “If we were alone, I would’ve bent you over the nearest surface, tied your wrists with my belt behind your back, and slid my cock in your cunt until you fell apart for me.”

“Too bad you can’t touch me when it’s just us,” she sasses despite the haze of lust. Her nipples harden and poke against her top, betraying just how much she likes my fantasy.

“Don’t for one second think just because I can’t touch you, that I can’t have you begging for me to fuck you, kitten.”