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Bought By The Man Who Hates Me Novel Cover

Bought By The Man Who Hates Me

I sat at a mahogany table in River Oaks, clutching the strap of a pilled black dress from a life I’d lost five years ago. I was an exile in a world of old money, just trying to survive a dinner party I didn't belong in. Then the doors opened, and Baron Lowery walked in. He was no longer the boy I’d loved, but a powerful man with eyes like a storm front. When the host asked if we’d met, Baron didn't even blink. "I don't know her," he said. The erasure was a physical blow. His new girlfriend spent the night mocking my "quaint" legal aid work and calling me a washed-up gold digger. Baron didn't defend me; he watched my humiliation with a cold, predatory stillness. During a game of Truth or Dare, he stared me down, waiting for a confession. To protect his career and the secret of my father’s federal crimes, I looked him in the eye and told the ultimate lie: "No regrets." He retaliated by pinning me against a concrete wall in a dark stairwell, crushing his mouth to mine in a kiss that felt like a punishment. He told me I wasn't worth the effort and left me. I retreated to my real life—a moldy trailer and a blackmailer named Harvey who was forcing me into a marriage to save my father from prison. I thought I’d hit rock bottom until Baron’s silver Bentley pulled up to my slum. He didn't come to apologize. He flipped open a checkbook, scribbled fifty thousand dollars, and held it out like I was a common streetwalker. "One night," he demanded. "Do whatever I say, and it's yours." I looked at the man I’d sacrificed my entire soul for and realized he’d finally become the monster I'd tried to save him from. I shoved the check back in his face and ran into the rain, leaving the billionaire staring at the trailer park, unable to understand why the "gold digger" he hated so much wouldn't take his money.
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Chapter 5

Bethel turned to flee, but Baron moved with terrifying speed. He took the stairs two at a time, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

Before she could reach the door handle, his hand clamped around her wrist. His grip was iron, hot and unyielding.

He spun her around and slammed her back against the concrete wall.

The impact knocked the breath out of her. Baron stepped in, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in.

He was close. Too close. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, mixed with the smoke. It was a scent that used to mean safety, home. Now it smelled like danger.

"Baron, stop," she gasped, her hands coming up to push against his chest. It was like pushing against a brick wall.

He lowered his head until his nose was almost touching hers. "No regrets? Really?"

He was obsessed with the answer. It was eating him alive.

"You're drunk," Bethel whispered, turning her face away.

He grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with a chaotic mix of fury and desire.

"Look at me," he commanded. "Tell me again. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't regret it."

Bethel stared into the grey depths of his eyes. She saw the pain there, raw and bleeding. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. She wanted to tell him everything.

But she couldn't.

"I..."

She didn't get the word out.

Baron crashed his mouth onto hers.

It wasn't a kiss. It was an assault. It was punishment. His lips were hard, demanding, bruising. He ground his mouth against hers, forcing her lips apart.

Bethel let out a muffled cry of shock. She struggled, hitting his chest, but he caught both her wrists in one of his large hands and pinned them above her head against the wall.

He was overwhelming her. His tongue invaded her mouth, tasting of bitterness and alcohol. For a second, just a split second, Bethel's body betrayed her. Her knees went weak. The familiarity of him, the taste of him, triggered a muscle memory of love that five years hadn't erased.

A tear leaked from her eye, sliding down her cheek to mingle with their kissing mouths.

Baron tasted the salt.

He froze.

He tore his mouth away, his chest heaving. He stared at her, his eyes wild. He looked at her wet lips, at the tear tracking down her face.

He released her wrists as if they burned him.

Bethel slumped against the wall, gasping for air, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Baron stepped back. He adjusted his tie, his face shutting down. The mask of the cold, elite engineer slammed back into place.

"You're right," he said, his voice ice cold. "You aren't worth the regret."

He looked at her with pure disdain.

"Disappear, Bethel. If I see you in Houston again, I won't be this polite."

He turned and pushed through the stairwell door, leaving her alone in the dark.

Bethel slid down the wall until she hit the concrete floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms, sobbing silently into the darkness.

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