Hate To Love You My Billionaire Lover

Arianna’s family was falling apart and facing a tragic demise; however, her heart sank when she clearly saw Travis Cooper’s name on the acquisition papers. She had no choice but to negotiate with him. Arianna lowered her head and relaxed her shoulders to ease the tension. She should show him gratefulness to make him happier, she thought, but she just couldn’t do it. “How would you be willing to leave my grandfather alone?” He casually poured her a cup of tea and placed it in front of her before replying, “I think the correct person to ask is the judge, no? The offenders are usually punished. This is a matter of justice, isn’t it?” Arianna was beginning to grow tired of his mood swings. “He is old, and his body is failing him. He would not last long in prison.” Arianna tried to contain her anger. “What can I do? I always admire devoted children.” His voice carried some ridicule, “But I’m not a charity. I only do transactions with interests. What would you do in exchange for the freedom of your grandfather?” Travis intertwined the fingers of his one hand with the other and rested his hands on his stomach as he leaned back in his chair once more. His expression was a bit lazy, “Since you entered this door, I’ve been waiting for the drama of you selling your body and soul to me in order to save your family member.” When Arianna didn’t reply, Travis explicitly said, “Maybe I’m just bored. I’d like to try something fun.” Arianna’s stomach felt like it had flipped. She looked at the handsome face that was now showing evil.

Chapters

Chapter 3

She learned to follow his lead as much as possible. Obedience, though degrading, could yield moments of thoughtfulness from him.

Even this past night, she wasn’t sure if she fell asleep due to extreme fatigue or passed out in a massive impact of his carnal desire.

Arianna dried off her body with the bath towel before wrapping it around her body.

She unlocked the door and stepped out of the humid bathroom.

Travis was sitting on the sofa by the window, wearing a silk bathrobe. He was reading a stack of papers with a cigarette in his hand.

When he saw her, he gestured for her to come and sit next to him.

Arianna strode over to the sofa and took a seat on the armrest. As Travis realized he was sitting in the middle of the couch, he slid over to give her a spot.

She slipped off the armrest and onto the couch; however, she was sitting tightly against him now.

Travis’s cigarette-holding hand moved from the back of the sofa to her bare shoulder. He hooked her neck and pulled her in as he went for a drag of his cigarette.

Holding her breath, Arianna fought the urge to bite his arm to free herself. She remained motionless. Her body was exhausted.

At least in this position, he wouldn’t touch her with the cigarette. She hated it when the glowing ashes dropped on her body. She believed he never felt guilty about hurting her.

He finally finished reading the paper and put out his cigarette.

Grabbing a magazine, he flipped through the pages with Arianna. They were looking at beautiful advertisements for expensive jewelry.

Travis suddenly asked, “Which one is your favorite?”

Arianna’s body stiffened as she leaned away from him slightly and said, “None of them.”

He pointed to one image, “How about this one?”

The picture showed a large diamond-encrusted square emerald. It was crystal clear and translucent. It looked gorgeous and elegant on the young woman’s back.

“The model is pretty. Is she your new love?”

Travis laughed mildly, “No, but I should consider it.”

Arianna remained silent but slowly sunk back into him. Travis was warming up, “Do you like this one, though? You were looking at it for longer than the rest.”

“I was looking at how the jewelry doesn’t match the model’s personality. It doesn’t reflect well on the brand.”

“You’re right. This model is nowhere near as charming and sexy as you.” He turned to her, “Arianna, you know that I like you being obedient, but are you just trying to please me right now?”

She ignored him and rested her head on the armrest with her eyes closed.

Travis folded the papers and threw them in the garbage can. He turned on the TV with its remote before lighting another cigarette.

Arianna was tired of the smell of smoke and said, “Give me one.”

Without his consent, she leaned forward to take his cigarette case. Her arms had to stretch across his body to place her fingertips on the case.

But before she could capture the box, he slid the case further away from her and said, “A smoking woman is not charming.”

As she was bringing back her arm, she snatched the cigarette from his mouth and sucked on it hard for two seconds before placing it back in his fingers.

She blew a ring of smoke and said, “You used to say you wanted to see the real me. But I don’t think that’s true.”

Travis moved his body backward a little, peering at her like she was a stranger.

Arianna looked back at him without fear; her eyes were focused.

They confronted each other like two martial arts masters. It seemed peaceful on the surface, but two invisible forces were raging between them. Arianna lost her momentum first. She stood up and tried to step away.

However, when she stood up, he held the hem of her bath towel. The towel was torn off as she tried to get away, and she fell into his arms.

Using his strength, he turned her over and pinned her body down on the sofa. His lips pierced through the already injured skin on her chest. She whimpered in pain.

The sofa was very small, though particularly soft. Arianna was like a small bug trapped in a cobweb with nowhere to escape.

She pointed to the bed and spoke weakly, “There.” But her request was totally ignored.

****

When Travis stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his hair dry, he noticed Arianna was already dressed.

She wore a light blue cotton shirt and jeans. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, and she did not have any makeup on.

A folded pile of clothing caught her eye. It was one of the pantsuits she wore for work. She forgot she left that here. It must have been there for over a year by now.

Arianna rarely stayed overnight, and when she did, she tried to make sure that she never left anything behind. Whatever she needed was always delivered to her while she was there.

Surprisingly, she had never found any other woman’s belongings. She sometimes wished that Travis would have affairs with many women, so he would torture her less often.

Travis Cooper must have other women. Arianna was not extremely stunning physically, nor was her personality amazing. It must have been fun for him to play these games with her. The torture must be his form of pleasure.

In fact, Arianna remembers one night when he received a phone call from another woman while he was in bed with her. Though his response was brief, his tone was gentle and patient.

When Arianna saw Travis approach her, she stood upright inadvertently. Travis looked at her for several seconds and said, “You are still young and energetic. Just like when I first met you.”

Her expression softened a little before she recovered. She remained quiet while scooping up her white dress from the floor. The collar and hemline were shredded.

She kneaded the dress into a ball and threw it into the garbage can.

“What a waste,” Travis said slowly.

“I’m not the one who tore it up.”

“Are you going home tonight? You’ve been full of energy recently.”

That ‘energy’ was a dangerous topic. Arianna responded with caution, “I have to finish a work file that’s due tomorrow.”

“Let Ryan drive you home then.”

“Just take me to Hillside so I can pick up my car.”

“Let Ryan drive you home.”

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The candles flickered across our dining table, casting dancing shadows on the walls of our Manhattan penthouse. I smoothed the front of my navy dress—the one Kieran once said brought out the blue in my eyes, back when he still noticed such things. Three years. Three years since I'd become Mrs. Anderson, since my father's desperate plea had bound me to this life. I checked my watch. Eight-thirty. He was already an hour late. The roast beef was getting cold, the Yorkshire puddings deflating like my hopes. I'd spent the entire day preparing this meal, remembering how Kieran had loved my grandmother's recipe when we were teenagers spending summers at my grandfather's Hamptons estate.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.9

Betrayal Turns to Desperate Love

7.9

The elevator's golden numbers climbed steadily—thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine—each floor bringing me closer to what I thought would be the perfect surprise. Chase's penthouse key felt warm in my palm, a symbol of the trust we'd built over two years together. Today marked our anniversary, and I'd planned everything down to the last detail: his favorite wine chilling in my bag, reservations at the restaurant where we'd shared our first kiss, and a small velvet box containing cufflinks engraved with our initials. The hallway stretched before me, silent except for the soft hum of expensive air conditioning. Chase's door stood at the end, mahogany gleaming under crystal chandeliers. I'd surprised him like this before—showing up unannounced with takeout or just because I missed him. He always said it was one of the things he loved about me, how spontaneous I could be. I slipped the key into the lock, turning it slowly to avoid the metallic click that might spoil the surprise. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing the familiar luxury of Chase's living space. Afternoon sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in golden hues.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.0

Blackmailed Into The Ruthless Tycoon's Bed

9.0

Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty. But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire. Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner. But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away. Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker. "Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms. She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.9

Ex - Husband's Desperate Search

8.9

The mahogany conference table gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights as I reviewed the quarterly projections one final time. King Corporation's board members sat in their leather chairs like vultures, waiting for any sign of weakness. Being Grey's wife had taught me to read these rooms—the subtle power plays, the calculated silences, the way men like these measured everything in dollars and dominance. "Mrs. King, the European expansion numbers look promising," Harrison Mitchell, our CFO, was saying when my phone buzzed against the polished surface. I glanced down at the screen. Maria Santos—Eleanor's housekeeper. Strange. Maria never called during business hours unless... "Excuse me," I murmured, sliding my finger across the screen.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.0

Flash Marriage To My Secret Billionaire

8.0

Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street. To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon. But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever. "Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it." Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her. Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end. Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.6

If you and I cannot escape the sea of sin

9.6

Chapter 1 I’ve always loved dogs, so when I was a child, Grandfather placed a leash in my hand. He told me the boy technically my uncle, Anthony, would be my pet. From that day on, I learned to swing the whip. Laughing, I lashed him until he bled, all the while respectfully calling him Uncle. Later, the dog broke its chains and turned on its master. In public, I remained the unassailable heiress of the Jessica empire. In private, late at night, he would grip my throat, force me to my knees, and demand to know when I’d give him a child. I took it all in silence. Until the day I learned I was pregnant—and overheard him soothing his long-lost first love. “Marry me,” he said. “I’ll deal with Jessica so she won’t be in your way.” My fingers found the scar on my arm. No heartbreak, just the quiet tally of a countdown. When the seventh mark appeared, I would be free of him for good. --- My drifting consciousness snapped back as Anthony’s ragged breathing slowly eased. We clung to each other like any ordinary couple, limbs tangled. A flicker of warmth stirred in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, but a sharp ringtone cut me off. Anthony snatched up his phone. Seeing the caller ID, he pulled out of me at once and answered, his voice softening. “Grace, what’s wrong?” Grace—Anthony’s long-lost first love, the girl who’d saved his life years ago. The woman he’d spent tens of millions wooing with flowers, yachts, and starlit villas. The one he’d proposed to ten times. Ice water poured over me, washing away every lingering trace of pleasure. I stayed silent. I swallowed the words that had almost spilled out in the heat of the moment— *I’m almost a month along.* “Anthony,” Grace’s wounded voice came through the speaker, “you went to see Jessica again, didn’t you?” His body still carried the heat of desire, but his eyes turned cold as they flicked toward me. Gently, he soothed her: “She’s just a bitch. If you don’t like it, I won’t touch her again.” Whatever Grace said next, Anthony didn’t bother lowering his voice as he headed for the bathroom. “Be good. Just say you’ll marry me, and I’ll deal with Jessica immediately. I won’t let her be an eyesore for you.” My heart plummeted. Ignoring the ache in my back and legs, I slid out of bed, wiped the sticky wetness from my skin, and curled up on the rug at the foot of the bed. I dragged the blanket over my naked body, trying to steal back a little warmth. A memory surfaced: eight years ago, after Anthony had tried to run from the Jessica family and been dragged back by Grandfather. Night after night, he’d slept curled on the floor of my room like a dog, utterly still. Back then, everyone thought my betrayal and torment had broken his spirit for good. No one knew that, under my deliberate cover, Anthony had been quietly trading stocks, investing, building a company—becoming Kingsport’s mysterious rising star. Years later, when Grandfather suffered a stroke and lay dying, with the Anthony's Group thrown into turmoil, Anthony finally struck. He nearly tore the family empire apart. In the end, it was me who saved the crumbling dynasty—kneeling on the floor, handing over every share of the Anthony's Group left to me in Grandfather’s will, then crawling into his bed. That day was my twentieth birthday. “Go shower. You can sleep in the bed tonight.” Anthony’s voice pulled me from the edge of sleep. His handsome features still held a trace of the tenderness he’d just shown the woman he loved. “Grace agreed to marry me. You’ll have to start calling her Mrs Jessica, Jessica.” A faint smile touched his lips—the first lively expression he’d shown me in a long time. It reminded me of eight years ago, when we’d fled the Jessica house hand in hand, betraying the world for our love. He’d grinned and shouted, “From today on, Jessica belongs to Anthony!” But now, even in our most intimate moments, he looked at me with nothing but hatred and impatience. That tenderness, that love—none of it was mine anymore. My throat tightened. I swallowed hard before answering evenly, “Congratulations.” Dazed, I walked into the bathroom and pulled up Gregory’s number. **Me:** Begin the plan. Gather the materials for submission. His reply came instantly. **Gregory:** Understood, Boss. I put my phone away and let scalding water pour over my skin. A cold, heavy ache settled in my chest, but beneath it bloomed a fierce, swelling hope. Six years and eleven months. I was finally close. This monstrous house, built on sin and cruelty—I would watch it crumble to dust with my own eyes. My fingers traced the six scars on my right arm, each one raised and distinct. I closed my stinging eyes. Just one more month. Once the seventh year was complete, once the seventh mark appeared, I could end this. I could leave for good.

Billionaire Modern Romance

Hate To Love You My Billionaire Lover

Chapter 3

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