HATE ME HARDER ( a dark revenge romance)

Raven Noir, stolen and sold at birth, a lethal assassin scarred by a decade-old rape, infiltrates billionaire Damien Blackwood's elite nightclub empire as stripper, her cover to get close enough to torture and kill the man who unknowingly fathered her daughter. Damien, captivated by her icy control and commanding presence, pulls her deeper with lucrative nights and charged intimacy. But when he encounters her identical twin, the buried memories flood back. Mistaking the twin for his victim, guilt drives him to propose marriage. Devastated, Raven faces an impossible choice: expose the truth, seize her revenge, or let obsession destroy them all in a dark, slow-burn thriller of betrayal and forbidden desire.

Chapters

Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

CLARISSA'S POV

The mirrored elevator doors of the Tower reflected a woman who looked like she'd been dragged through hell and back.

Platinum hair limp and tangled from fingers that weren't Damien's, lips swollen and lipstick faded to a bruised pink. The cash in my clutch, ten grand after the house cut from three private rooms, wasn't enough to wash away the bitter taste of defeat.

I straightened my pencil skirt, smoothed the silk blouse that clung to my sweat-damp skin, and stepped out onto the top floor like a woman on a mission.

Junior VP of acquisitions. That's what the brass nameplate on the office door said.

But titles doesn't really matter to me now, not when i have a more pressing issue at hand.

That masked bitch had slithered into Velvet reservoir and turned the club into her personal kingdom.

Men who used to book me exclusively now waited in line for her. Triple bids. Quadruple. And Damien, my Damien watched that bitch perform, something he has not done for me.

The one he'd bent over his desk, thrusting hard while I moaned his name until my voice cracked.

The one who'd earned her place in his bed, his boardroom, his life.

I bypassed the front desk and headed straight for the conference room at the end of the hall. The lights were low, only the city skyline glowing through the glass walls.

He was already there, as promised. The strange man. No name. No title.

Just a referral from a client who owed me a favor.

He sat at the far end of the mahogany table, silhouetted against the glittering Manhattan night. Mid-forties, suit cheap but tailored, face scarred from old knife fights. His eyes were cold, assessing, like he was pricing my organs.

"Clarissa Voss," he said, voice gravelly, almost amused. "You said you had a problem."

I slid into the chair across from him, crossing my legs slowly, deliberately.

The leather creaked under me. "I do. I replied to him, voice low, threading with caution.

A woman, a new recruit, masked. She's stealing my clients. Stealing... everything."

He leaned back, fingers stepping. "And why do I care?"

"Because I hate her." The words spilled out hot, burning, like acid in my throat. I leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping to a hiss. "She waltzed in with that lace mask and that body, and suddenly every man in the room wants her.

First night at the club and she already has all the men wrapped in her fist. They leave the bigger tips for her. Like I was nothing."

The strange man's eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt.

I kept going, voice rising despite myself, hands trembling slightly on the table.

"She threatens me. My position, everything i represent.

And Mr. Backwoods, i have a gut feeling he's already obsessed with her. I can't share. I won't share."

He chuckled, low and humorless. "Jealousy's expensive."

"I'll pay. Whatever it takes. Take her out." I met his eyes, unflinching. "I hate threats. I can't share my clients, and most importantly, I can't share Damien."

The words hung in the air, heavy as lead. The man studied me for a long beat, then nodded once. "Fifty upfront. Fifty when it's done. Clean. No trace back to you."

I slid an envelope across the table, half the cash from tonight's tips. My fingers brushed his as he took it, and I felt nothing but cold satisfaction. "Make it hurt. Make her disappear."

He got up from his position, pocketed it without counting. "Pleasure doing business."

He left without another word.

I sat there alone, heart pounding, a smile creeping across my lips. Raven Noir or whatever the bitches name is wouldn't see it coming. And my Damien would come back to me. He always did.

************************

DAMIEN'S POV

The conference room was my battlefield.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed Manhattan like conquered territory, but the men across the table didn't appreciate the view. They were cowering, and I liked it that way.

"Five million," I said, voice flat, leaning back in the leather chair.

My fingers drummed once on the table, slow, deliberate.

"Take it or walk. I don't negotiate with amateurs."

Harrington, the lead partner from the sinking tech startup, swallowed hard.

His tie was knotted too tight, sweat beading on his forehead despite the air-conditioning. "Mr. Blackwood, that's half our valuation.

We have investors. Projections for next quarter"

"Projections are fantasies," I cut him off, eyes cold. "Your code is buggy. Your market share is shrinking.

Your CEO is one scandal away from prison.

I'm offering five million to buy the scraps. Take it, or I leak the audit to the press. Watch your stock tank to zero by morning."

The room went silent. The other two partners exchanged glances, faces pale. One fidgeted with his pen, clicking it like a nervous tic. The air smelled of desperation, expensive aftershave mixed with fear sweat.

Harrington broke first. "Four and a half. Please."

I smiled, slow, predatory. "Five. And I keep the IP. Sign here."

He signed. Hands shaking. The pen scratched like a surrender.

"Good choice," I said, sliding the papers to my lawyer. "Get out."

They scrambled, chairs scraping, doors closing with a click.

I exhaled, rolling my neck. Another deal crushed, another company absorbed into the empire.

The ruthlessness was second nature now. It kept the board quiet, the competitors scared, the money flowing.

Elena, my secretary, efficient as a blade knocked and entered, stack of files in hand. "The weekly reports, sir."

I took them, flipping through. Real estate: up 12%. Tech startups: 8% growth. Clubs: Eclipse steady, but Velvet reservoir... I paused. Massive revenue spike. One night alone, triple the usual take, private rooms booked solid, tips record high.

Raven.

I made a mental note, to do anything to retain her, double her rate if needed, triple even.

She was gold. The way she commanded the room, the way men scrambled, it wasn't just sex. It was power. And I wanted more of it.

"Elena," I said, closing the file. "Dig into Raven Noir.

Anything you can find. Background. Address. Connections.

Bring it to me tomorrow."

She nodded, no questions. "Yes, sir."

She left.

I stood, grabbed my coat, headed for the private elevator. The city sprawled below, mine for the taking.

The convoy waited in the underground garage, three black SUVs, drivers armed, lead car with my bodyguard. I slid into the middle one. "Estate."

The driver nodded. We pulled out, merging into Manhattan traffic. Late night, streets empty. I leaned back, closing my eyes, mind on Raven.

Her lips under the mask. The way she'd outdone Clarissa in Room 3. The way she glanced up at me from the floor, knowing I watched.

And then suddenly, a screech of tires.

The lead SUV swerved. Gunshots cracked.

Glass shattered.

"Ambush!" my driver yelled.

The car lurched, more shots rang out.

I reached for my gun under the seat, stepping out from the car, i aimed back at my attackers firing multiple shot at them.

This wasn't the first time i have been attacked, from angry business partners, to an angry obsessed fan, to ex's i have lost counts of over the years.

The gun battle dragged on for close to 30 minutes leaving me exhausted.

And then, my shoulder exploded in pain, warm liquid seeped out dripping down my cloth. Blood soaked my shirt.

I ducked back into my car seeking cover.

Then a high-pitched voice rang out, sharp, very familiar?

"Take him dead or alive!"

Darkness crashed in.

I lost consciousness.

Continue to next part

My entire family was slaughtered three years ago by Alistair Kirkland, the usurper who stole the underworld throne. I was the only survivor. Smuggled out of New York as a child, I was trained in the shadows to become a flawless weapon. Now, at sixteen, I returned to the city that was supposed to be my graveyard. But the New York I returned to was a suffocating cage. Kirkland didn't just wipe out the Valenzuela bloodline; he branded my few surviving loyalists as traitors. He paraded my men down the streets in heavy iron chains, letting the very people we once protected hurl rocks at them. He bought the doctors, ensuring my wounded soldiers would bleed out in the dark. Even worse, the mother of my only ally—Julian Morgan—secretly sold us out to a Chicago warlord just to keep her archaic grip on power. I stood in the shadows, watching an eleven-year-old boy get his head smashed with a jagged stone just for defending his father's honor. How could the city my grandfather built cheer for our extermination? Why did the old guard prefer to cower and die in the dark rather than fight the monster who stole our home? "Ghosts don't knock on my door, Athena. What do you want?" Julian asked me. I tossed a blood-stained ledger of Kirkland's deepest secrets onto his desk. "I'm here to help you take back what's yours, and burn Alistair Kirkland's empire to the ground."

Action Mafia Modern

9.0

Jilted Bride's Revenge: The Valkyrie Awakens

9.0

I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.

Action Modern Romance

9.7

Mafia's Captive Desire

9.7

He leaned in, inhaling her sweet scent as his hands traveled from her back to her waist, and then down to her thigh. She felt her breath hitch as she let out a small gasp. "We shouldn't be doing this." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then tell me to stop." His voice was low, daring, as his fingers traced slow circles on her skin. *** Lucy had always lived life on her own terms, until the night everything changed. One moment, she was free; the next, she was bound to Barry Cooper, a cold, dangerous man who ruled the underworld with an iron fist. She never expected to be trapped in a world of power struggles, deceit, and unspoken desires. But as the lines between captor and captive blur, Lucy realizes she's caught in a deadly game, one where trust is a luxury and survival is not guaranteed. Will she escape the ruthless mobster who owns her... or will she become his greatest obsession?

Action Adventure Mafia

8.6

Marrying His Rival: The Jilted Wife's Sweet Revenge

8.6

"Her blood type is a match. It’s the only option." I froze outside the conference room door, the quarterly reports digging into my ribs. I knew that voice. It was Ben, my husband’s best friend and doctor. But the next voice, cold and devoid of warmth, shattered my world. "Then we do it," my husband Ethan said. "Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava is the match, then Ava is the solution." For the past month, Ethan had been obsessed with my health, insisting on daily "vitamins" and endless checkups. He called it love. Standing in that hallway, I realized he was actually shopping for spare parts. "She is your wife, Ethan," Ben argued weakly. "You can't just harvest her like a crop." "She became my wife because she was useful," Ethan replied, his indifference cutting deeper than any scalpel. "Now, she can be useful for this." The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The nausea I’d been feeling wasn't stress. I was pregnant. And those "vitamins" he fed me every morning? They weren't supplements. They were poisons designed to ensure I remained a viable donor. He was killing his own child to save his mistress. To him, I wasn't a partner. I was livestock. An asset to be liquidated for parts. I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream. I walked away in silence, my hand hovering over my stomach. He wanted my kidney? He wanted to carve me up? I decided right then. I wouldn't just leave. I would terminate the pregnancy, fake my death, and burn his entire world to the ground.

Action Modern Romance

8.9

Pregnant With The Ruthless Billionaire's Secret

8.9

Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed. Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away. But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree. She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom. Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move. Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago. Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.

Action Billionaire Mystery

9.4

Taming The Sinner: The Doctor’s Cold Game

9.4

I stood before the double doors of the master suite, my hand hovering inches from the polished brass. As a surgeon, I was trained to steady my heart before a cut, but the silence in the Alexander estate felt like the heavy, oppressive pause that always preceded a scream. I pushed the mahogany door open to find my fiancé, Authur, tangled in Egyptian cotton sheets with a woman named Jasmine. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and a floral perfume that wasn't mine—a brutal reality check just twenty-four hours before the merger meant to save my family from total ruin. Authur didn't look guilty; he looked amused, coldly telling me to close the door because I was letting in a draft. When his parents unexpectedly arrived, I was forced to hide his mistress and pretend our "intensity" had ruined the room, donning his discarded shirt to look disheveled just to protect the Lawrence family stock price. The humiliation only deepened on our wedding morning when Authur issued a sadistic ultimatum over the phone. "Wear your scrubs to the altar—the ones covered in blood—or I'll watch your father's company go belly up by lunch." He wanted to turn our wedding at St. Patrick’s Cathedral into a public execution of my dignity. I walked down the aisle in shapeless navy cotton and crimson stains, enduring the horrified gasps of the elite who labeled me an "insane gold digger." Authur stood at the altar, reeking of whiskey and malice, certain he had finally broken me and turned my professional oath into a circus act. But as the priest began the vows, I looked at the man who thought he owned me and realized I wasn't his victim—I was his surgeon. I had the footage of his debauchery ready to play for the world, and as we shared a punishing, hateful kiss for the cameras, I knew the real war had only just begun.

Action Modern Romance

HATE ME HARDER ( a dark revenge romance)

Chapter 7

You may also like