Page 56 of Scandalous Games


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Wish for the night to not end.

Because once morning comes, my life will forever change. Just like the moon… Pretty from afar but filled with black scars upon closer inspection.

The smooth rumbling of my car pulls me back to the present and Dash places his palm on my waist to guide me forward. The valet lets the engine run and steps out. The jacket falls down one of my shoulders as I bend to get inside.

Dash’s fingers graze my bare collarbone when he rights it before it can fall off completely, making my breathing quicken. His hand lingers a little longer before he finally straightens and shuts the door.

Without a goodbye or a backward glance, he turns around and walks out of my life.

Even when I lay down on my bed hours later, his scent and marks still linger on my skin.

Chapter Eighteen

BIANCA

Sundays always reminded me of cozy and happy memories.

It used to be my favorite day of the week growing up because it was the one day where my whole family, including my grandparents, would spend time together. It could be going on a day-long trip, a movie night, or simply a picnic in the park.

Arya and I would wake up early and excitedly in the morning and help Mom with the preparations while Dad would finish his important meetings so he wouldn’t be disturbed later.

It continued to be a tradition—the one I actually loved—until my grandparents passed away in an unfortunate accident. The tragedy hardened my dad.

Our Sundays went from being together to everyone being in their own separate rooms.

Their deaths caused a crack in our family that could never be filled or repaired.

Today, the same premonition courses through me as I drive to lunch with my parents. I can already envision the matching disapproving scowls on their faces for avoiding them for weeks. In truth, I’ve been mentally preparing myself. I just know my father would give me a lecture. My mother, on the other hand, will most likely guilt-trip me with passive remarks.

They aren’t bad parents and I do love them with all my heart, but it becomes hard to get along when our thinking and values are poles opposites apart. They see the world as black and white and fitted in a box. If you dare to step outside of it, it’s wrong and unacceptable.

The moment I tell them I’m ready for marriage, only then will they finally be proud of me.

Just how sad is that?

I remind myself that I’m doing this for Arya once I reach the upscale family restaurant. I had sent my mom a text so I know they’ll be here already since the place is closer to their house. Parking my car, I grab my purse and stride to the hostess stand.

Families and a few couples sit on tables around me and their soft murmurs, blending with music, prickles my ears. Usually, the ambience, poolside view, and open sky brightens up my mood but right now, it isn’t.

The cool air coming from the pool on my right teases my arms and I’m glad I wore a halter neck and frayed denims so my legs are covered. I didn’t expect the weather to be a little chilly this morning. The hostess guides me to my dad’s private table which is always kept reserved for him on Sundays.

My shaky hand automatically drifts to my hair to push it away, but I bring it back down, knowing Dad hates it when I’m fidgety. One should always be calm and composed, no matter the situation. At least, that’s what my father drilled into Arya and me.

It has helped me more times than I can count but when I’m overstressed, the bad habit sneaks in.

“Bianca, beta.” My mom’s soft voice greets me as soon as I round the corner.

As always, she is elegantly dressed in a light blue pantsuit without a hair out of place. My dad is sitting beside her with his coffee in one hand and tablet in another. He’s never not working and the effect is starting to show by the stress lines marring his forehead. Even so,he doesn’t seem to show any signs of slowing down.

“Hi, Ma.” I smile and lean down to hug her while she remains seated. Turning to Dad, I greet him, “Good morning, Papa.”

“How nice of you to finally find time for your parents, Bianca.”

“Veer,” my mom scolds at his disapproving tone.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” I sigh, taking a seat across from them. “I was busy with work. I thought you’ll understand.”

“I always make time for my family.”

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