
The Billionaire Who Hated Me... Until I Stole His Heart
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Six years ago, I stole from a stranger.
I was desperate, broken, and trying to save the only family I had left.
I never expected that stranger to be a billionaire.
Or that one reckless night would bind our lives forever.
Now he's back-powerful, haunted, and dangerous.
He doesn't remember me... but he remembers the theft.
I work in his hotel.
He signs my paychecks.
And the secret I've carried for six years could destroy us both.
He wants answers. I want redemption.
But when desire burns hotter than guilt, and the past refuses to stay buried, loving him might cost me everything, including the truth he deserves.
The Billionaire Who Hated Me... Until I Stole His Heart Chapter 1
"We couldn't stop staring," he breathed seductively into my ear.
I felt nauseous! I wanted to push him far away from me, but I couldn't. This was the reason I was here in the first place.
I was desperate.
I was about to do the unthinkable for my grandma. She was all that I had, and she was going to die if I didn't do this.
"Uh-huh," I whispered back in the most sensual voice I could muster, despite the revolting feeling deep in my tummy. "I bet you weren't just staring. You've had wild thoughts with me in it."
Yuck!
The bald, middle-aged man with a protruding belly smiled at me, exposing brown teeth with patches of tar. The taller man wasn't any better. He wore a white shirt with dark patches under both armpits. The zipper of his trousers was down. Honestly, I didn't even know why. He reeked of dirty sweat. If not for the dimly lit room, he would have seen the disgust on my face.
They had their suit jackets hanging on the long couch in the VIP section, where they'd been staring at me from.
Jessica didn't tell me it would be this terrible. She was the one who suggested the idea when I came to her. She'd told me that they were regulars and she believed one of them had won the lottery, so they'd been spending loads of money on the ladies they met here at the bar. The dancers and strippers were all talking about them.
I downed another shot of vodka, squeezing my face as the liquid burned my throat. This was my fifth shot, and I wasn't stopping until I stopped feeling disgusted with what I was about to do.
"Easy there, baby, it burns," the taller man said, taking a strand of my hair and twirling it around his fingers.
I visibly gagged, covering my mouth immediately to stop myself from spewing on these men.
"See, I told you to take it easy," the tall man said in a seductively soft voice, before bringing his hand down to my back and beginning to gently rub circles.
Worse! Worse!
That's it. I couldn't do it. With the way I was feeling, I could probably die before daybreak.
"Remember Grandma," my stupid brain whispered. "She's all you have."
I shut my eyes tightly and inhaled several breaths before turning to both men and giving them the brightest smile my darkest existence could release. They both smiled back, nodding their heads approvingly.
"Well, why don't we finish this beautiful meeting in our hotel room? We have more ladies coming in, so we'd have a mini, wild party," the potbellied man said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I nodded my head vigorously. It was more about trying to expel the dread crawling up within me than agreeing to what he was saying.
"I think you should know this too. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met in my life. That is why I will specially care for you. I will shower you with all the love and gifts I own," the tall one said, moving uncomfortably closer to me.
I nodded vigorously again for the same reason as before. This was what I wanted. They would give it to me tonight, then I could pay for Grandma's surgery.
Then what?
I don't know...live with it?!
I stiffened when the tall man took me by the arm, gently pulling me off the chair. It was then the world around me started spinning.
I was drunk.
I involuntarily fell against the man's chest to stop myself from toppling over. The stench of his breath and skin forcefully infiltrated my nostrils, making me gag.
They didn't care. They probably thought it was the drink.
This was it. I was going in. In all my nineteen years of existence, I'd held on to my virginity, waiting to do it with the right person and at the right time. But I guess life had other plans for me.
The tall man, who had somewhat fully taken over from the other man, placed his hand at the small of my back, slowly sliding it down. I held my breath and the vomit threatening to spew as he slid his hand lower towards my tailbone. I felt his middle finger at the entrance of my butt crack when suddenly his hand disappeared, along with his body, the stench, and everything.
The force with which this happened destabilized my wobbly feet, making me stagger backward into a rigid chest.
His arms were outstretched as if waiting to receive me. Although I had no idea what was happening, I latched onto his toned arm for dear life.
Was the world coming to an end?
Everything and everywhere was loud and blurry, making it hard to make out what was happening.
"Are you okay?" came the deepest yet most soothing voice I'd ever heard. For a moment, I allowed the relief this new presence gave me, the freshness of his cologne, and the calming effect of his voice to wash over my troubled heart.
I took deep breaths, steadying myself as if the world had paused for me.
"Are you okay?" came the voice again, louder this time.
"Uh... yeah. I'm ready! We can go ahead now," I said, looking up with squinted eyes to see the face of whoever had that beautiful voice.
My breath hitched as the most mesmerizing hazel eyes stared back at me. I gulped once, widening my eyes to take in his full features, but the drink in my system wouldn't let me. Everywhere was blurry as hell.
"Boss, we've sent them off," came a hoarse voice that must have belonged to a bulky person.
At this point, though inebriated, I could make out what was happening. This sweet-smelling man and his men probably thought I was in danger and came to my rescue, thereby dashing my last chance at saving my grandma right out the window.
"No!" I yelled, pulling away from him, although my body screamed at me to return to the warmth and security his body offered.
"Ma'am?" came the bulky guy, but I cut him off.
"No!" I repeated. "I didn't ask for your help. I was fine on my own!" I yelled at whoever they were, turned on my wobbly feet, and staggered toward the door in search of the revolting men who were going to give me money.
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The Billionaire Who Hated Me... Until I Stole His Heart of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels

7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.

8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."

9.3
On her wedding night at The Plaza Hotel, Clara went looking for her husband.
Instead, she found him in the dimly lit parking garage, passionately pinning down her bridesmaid.
She couldn't even scream or expose them. Just hours before the ceremony, Julian had tricked her into signing away her twenty percent shares of their co-founded company, leaving her completely penniless and unable to pay her grandmother's life-saving medical bills.
Fleeing in absolute despair, a sudden hotel blackout plunged her into a second nightmare. She was dragged into a pitch-black room and brutally violated by a heavily drugged stranger.
When a shattered Clara returned to the office to audit the books and reclaim her power, Julian demoted her to a dusty desk by the trash cans.
He flaunted his mistress in the executive suite and deliberately sent Clara into a horrifying trap. He arranged for vicious clients to drug and assault her, demanding high-definition blackmail photos so he could divorce her with absolutely nothing.
"Since you want to play rough, you can service Mr. Petrocelli tonight," the thug sneered, locking the VIP room door.
Clara was pushed to the brink of hell. Why was the man she devoted three years of her life to trying to destroy her so completely? And why did the freezing cedarwood scent of the stranger who ruined her in the dark perfectly match Conrad Vance, the ruthless CEO and Julian's untouchable uncle?
Rather than let Julian win, Clara smashed a glass bottle, held the jagged edge to her own throat to force the men back, and threw herself off the second-floor balcony into the freezing night.
But the bone-crushing impact never came. A massive figure shot out from the shadows and caught her, and her brutal counterattack finally began.

8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.

7.6
Isolde Mitchell knew her wealthy husband was cheating on her, but the true nightmare began when her mother-in-law summoned her.
The older woman coldly announced that the mistress was pregnant with a boy and would be moving into their estate.
Because Isolde's family had gone bankrupt and she had only given birth to a frail daughter, she was deemed completely worthless.
When Isolde packed her bags and demanded a divorce, her husband Clark just laughed.
He threatened to use their ironclad prenup to leave her penniless and take full custody of her daughter just to torture her.
To make matters worse, he forced Isolde to secure a failing business deal with the ruthless billionaire Jacques Valdez, essentially ordering her to sell her body to get the signature.
"If you fail, you will never see Bria again."
He even sent his goons to snatch the little girl from her preschool to prove his point.
Isolde was completely cornered, trembling with a mix of rage and absolute despair.
How could the man she married be such a monster? She would rather die than let them destroy her daughter, but how could a bankrupt mother fight a powerful dynasty with absolutely nothing?
Out of options, she looked at the private business card the terrifying billionaire Jacques had unexpectedly given her daughter.
Swallowing her pride, she decided to make a deal with the devil himself, ready to use his power to tear her husband's family apart.

8.4
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.








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