Follow
Chapters
Share
KISS ME KILL ME;HIS ENEMY HIS OBSESSION  Novel Cover

KISS ME KILL ME;HIS ENEMY HIS OBSESSION

In the shadow of a lethal rivalry, a ruthless mafia heir finds himself consumed by a dangerous obsession with the one person he is sworn to destroy. As their blood-soaked worlds collide, a volatile romance ignites between these two enemies, blurring the line between hatred and desire. Every kiss is a gamble and every touch carries a threat of betrayal. In a high-stakes game of power and revenge, will their lethal attraction lead to salvation or a final, fatal end?
Chapters
Share

Chapter 1

Elira's POV

"No... No," he whimpered. He was on his knees, hands shaking in front of him like he was saying a prayer. Tears and snot poured down his blotchy face, the sharp smell of piss already staining the air around him. His suit, once pressed and smugly tailored, was now wrinkled and soaked.

Pathetic.

I stepped closer, the soles of my boots clicking coldly against the stained warehouse floor. He flinched at the sound.

"Please—"

Wrong move.

I raised the gun.

The barrel met his forehead. I saw my reflection in his teary eyes and watched his face drain of all colour as I smirked. I pulled the trigger. The first bullet cracked his skull, filling the silent room with sound. Blood painted the wall behind him in red splatters. His body jolted, and he fell to the ground with his eyes open.

Then I emptied the rest.

Chest. Shoulder. Gut. Neck.

By the time I was done, there was nothing recognisable left above the collarbone. Just a lump of torn meat and shattered bone.

"Clean it up," I yelled at my subordinates.

"Yes, ma'am!" Three of my men rushed forward, slipping a body bag off their shoulders. They didn’t flinch. They’d seen worse. I made sure of that.

I turned away, already done with the mess. The stench of blood clung to the air. I hated that smell. Always had.

I walked out of the room, throwing the empty gun in one of the bins that sat by the way and took off my gloves, throwing them alongside the gun.

As much as I knew the blood I had on my hands, I felt freer after disposing of any evidence that I had killed someone. Hypocritical, I know but it helped me feel better about myself.

Out in the hallway, the lights flickered. My heels echoed as I made my way through the compound, passing steel doors, armoury rooms, and offices guarded by my best men. Every person I passed nodded, greeted, and stood a little straighter. Not out of respect. Out of fear.

Good.

I was not here to be liked.

My empire stretched from smuggled weapons in the Balkans to insider trading in the heart of Manhattan. Every deal, every body, every coin flowed through me. After my father was taken out, I rebuilt it from the ashes. Bigger. Stronger. Colder.

And unlike the old bastards who thought a preppy, good girl like me couldn't run this whole show, who'd run this place to the ground, I didn't make room for sentiment.

Except for Lucifer.

I pushed open my office door and was immediately greeted with a soft meow. The black cat sat on my desk, licking his paw, tail flicking. His emerald eyes locked onto mine.

"You’re the only man who gets away with attitude around here," I muttered, stroking his back. He purred, head-butting my hand. My expression softened for a breath.

Only he got to see that part of me.

My gaze shifted to the picture frame near the desk. My father, suited up, eyes hard but proud. I picked it up, brushing off the speck of dust.

"I did what I had to today, Papa. Just like you'd have done."

"I'd take them all out one by one. Anyone who dares to betray us" My fingers brushed his photo, memories rushing in of my father and me.

He had always thought it wrong to introduce me into this world of his. He had even tried to leave after he met my mother, but that would mean that he'd have to give up his life and my mother's too, but she was pregnant with me... So he stayed and it eventually got him killed.

He hid this life the best he could, but not before letting me know the basics of handling a gun at age thirteen after my second kidnapping. My father was the best in the world no matter how many lives he took.

Flashback

I pulled open the large doors, rushing in with my suitcases behind me.

"Marthaaaa, I'm back. I need your special fruit juice right now. The flight was hellish" I yelled excitedly, walking further into the building. I had just completed my degree in international relations and was ready to start working at Daddy's office the following Monday. It was all I had been preparing for all my life.

After my mother passed away from cancer when I was sixteen, Martha basically raised me.

She should be running up to me by now but the entire house was dead silent.

"Martha?" I walked over to the kitchen and saw no one there, and the cooker was on, the water in the pot was already over-boiled.

Something in my chest hurt and that was when I knew something was wrong.

I dropped my bags to the ground as I ran with all my strength up the stairs. I stopped in my tracks, placing my hand over my mouth and choking back sobs when I saw Martha on the floor in the hallway with blood pooling around her.

Her face was turned in my direction, and her eyes were open, looking as though they were staring at me, and she could see me.

I staggered towards her and fell to my knees, not caring that her blood was soaking up my dress.

"Martha? Martha, get up. Please..."

Tears fell from my eyes as I placed my head to her chest, confirming what I already knew.

She was dead.

I slowly got up to my feet and cleaned my tears, and as I thought of my father, the sound of a gun going off filled the entire house.

My brain went blank and I didn't know when and how my heels got off my feet as I sprinted down the hall to my father's office.

I pushed open the door to see two men in the room. Their heads turned to me when I burst in looking like a mad woman, and one had a gun pointed at the ground.

No, no, no, no...

My eyes slowly traced who he was pointing at, and the bracelet that I gave my father before leaving for college came into view, and my eyes watered.

"NO!" I screamed out, crumpling to the ground.

"What do we do with her? We were only instructed to kill the maid and the old geezer" one of the men spoke to the other who still stood over my father.

"We'll take her with us," he said in a boring tone.

I didn't know what came over me, maybe it was the rage of seeing the two people I loved the most dead on the same day and in less than a minute apart. Maybe it was realising that I no longer had a family, maybe it was realising that I was now alone, maybe it was the fact that I had my future taken from me.

All I knew was that I got up from the ground, walking purposefully to the bookshelf in my father's office.

The men watched me in silence as I pressed some buttons and watched a hidden vault open. I pulled open the door and took out my father's most prized gun.

He never knew that I knew of its existence.

"Shit, she's got a gun. What do I do, boss?" the other man started panicking, but the one who killed my father burst out laughing.

"Relax, she definitely doesn't know how to use it"

I checked for bullets and stared at him with the gun pointed in his direction, and with a tear-streaked face, I pulled the trigger.

The bullet lodged itself in his throat and he fell to the ground, dying on the spot.

The other hooded man was still in shock when he saw his boss dead.

"I guess I do know how to use a gun" I said to him humourlessly before shooting him between his eyes.

I walked feeling numb towards my father's dead body, bending to cradle his body in my arms.

"I killed them, Papa. I will kill those who sent them, too. I will kill them all."

I caressed his face gently, giving him a peck to his forehead before getting up and taking the telephone from the table and dialling the only last person I could ever trust.

"Nico. Come over to my father's mansion now."

You may also like

Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle Novel Cover
9.6
I spent our third anniversary alone in our penthouse, adjusting a white rose and waiting for a man who didn't want to come home. When my fiancé, Chris Osborne, finally arrived, he didn't notice the 1982 Lafite or the dinner I’d prepared. He looked at me with disgust, calling my desire for a wedding date "pressure" before storming out to a private club. I followed him, hiding behind a marble pillar at The Vault as I recorded his voice on my phone. He was laughing with his friends about a $20 million bet. He called me a "boring ice queen" and a "marble statue," explaining that he only needed to keep me around until the merger closed so he could steal my shares and "cut me loose." To make it worse, my own father was in on it, prioritizing his stock price over his daughter's life. Broken and barefoot in a torrential Manhattan downpour, I sought refuge at the Four Seasons. I collapsed into the arms of a tall, dangerous-looking stranger and begged him to take me upstairs. I wanted to be erased, to forget the transaction my life had become. After a night of salt and desperation, I left my engagement ring on his nightstand as payment for services rendered and fled. The next morning, I realized I had jumped from the frying pan into the furnace. My "stranger" wasn't a nobody. He was Gallagher Osborne—the ruthless patriarch of the family and my fiancé’s uncle. He tracked me to a private clinic, trapping me in a room while holding my medical file and the ring I’d discarded. He told me I was his now, and that he’d dismantle Chris piece by piece if I didn't comply. I was a piece of currency to my father, a bet to my fiancé, and a prize to his uncle. I had no allies, no escape, and no mercy left. I realized that being the "perfect daughter" had only made me a target. If they wanted to play games with the "Ice Queen," I decided to give them a frostbite they would never forget. I trashed my art gallery, backdated a diagnosis for a psychotic break, and sent a cryptic suicide note to Chris. As Gallagher watched from the shadows and Chris panicked over his investment, I began the process of scorching the earth. The merger was still happening, but I wasn't the bride anymore—I was the wrecking ball.
From Beloved To Battered: Her Reckoning Novel Cover
7.8
My husband, Chase, was having an affair. But when I confronted him, he didn't just admit it-he told me he was tired of my ambition and that his new lover, a diner waitress, was everything I wasn't: simple and undemanding. Then he pushed me down the stairs. The fall cost me our unborn child. As I lay broken in the hospital, his mistress, Joy, visited. Under the guise of care, she forced a foul soup down my throat, whispering it was the "blood and flesh" of my dead baby. When I fought back, Chase walked in, saw Joy on the floor, and ordered his bodyguards to beat me for hurting her. One hundred slaps. Each one chipping away at the nine years of love I had for him. He had promised to be my anchor, but he had become the storm that wrecked me. Why did the man who once cherished my brilliance now despise it? Why did he protect the monster who tormented me while destroying me and our child? Lying on the cold hospital floor, bruised and bleeding, I finally understood. The love was dead. And with it, the woman who had ever loved him. I picked up my phone and made a call. It was time to burn it all down.
Her Vengeance Rises From The Asylum Novel Cover
7.3
I walked into the luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue, the air conditioning chilling my skin. There she was-Alivia, my adopted sister-swiping my husband' s Black Card for her wedding dress. Three years ago, she tampered with the neonatal equipment during my home birth, suffocating my newborn son. Then she told everyone I was a drug addict who killed my own baby in a hallucination. My husband, Carter, didn't just believe her; he locked me in a high-security psychiatric facility in Nevada to "fix" me. For three years, I rotted in isolation while she took my life, my husband, and paraded a child that wasn't even his as the Fletcher heir. Even my parents sided with her, protecting their image over their own daughter's sanity. They think I' m still the fragile socialite who would crumble under their gaslighting. They think I' m here to beg for forgiveness. I pulled a silver flash drive from my clutch and stepped into the light. "Shopping for a wedding dress, Alivia?" I whispered, my voice cutting through her laughter. "I hope it goes well with the forensic report proving you murdered my son." The game is over, Carter. I' m not here to reconcile. I' m here to burn your empire to the ground.
My Boss My Babydaddy  Novel Cover
9.8
Roses are red, tequila hits hard, and I danced like I owned the damn night. Now? Everything's a hot mess. Emily Hart just landed the dream job, personal secretary to the sinfully rich, dangerously fine CEO of Steele Empire. So naturally, she did what any girl with a fat offer letter and a killer dress would do: hit the club, danced like a vixen, and threw back shots until reality blurred and pleasure took the wheel. That's when he happened. Dominic Steele. Billionaire boss. Ruthless in the boardroom. Untamed in the bedroom. He saw her, hips swaying, lips smirking, black dress clinging like a second skin, and he didn't ask for a name. He just took. One night. One filthy, breathless, back-arching night. No promises. No names. Just raw heat and moans that echoed past midnight. Until Monday morning happened. Now, the man who made her beg without words is standing behind a glass desk in a tailored suit, And she's the new secretary who can't look him in the eye without remembering how he made her scream. She thinks he's cocky as hell. He thinks she's the sweetest kind of chaos. But when a missed period makes an unexpected appearance, it's no longer just business. It's Daddy, please....... with a whole lot of tension, temptation, and trouble in between.
Rejected Mate's Revival Novel Cover
8.7
Elara’s life shatters when her fated mate, the future Alpha, rejects her for a stronger rival. Banished and broken, she flees her pack, hiding a secret that could change everything. Years later, she returns not as a victim, but as a powerful warrior with a lethal reputation. As old enemies resurface and dangerous secrets come to light, Elara must navigate a path of vengeance and redemption while her former mate begs for a second chance.
The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge Novel Cover
8.5
I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family’s pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."