Then Hate Me Read Online Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Virgin Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
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Nothing like profit and loss sheets to make you lose focus when you have Victoria’s Secret models in your bed.

I guided her from the car to the elevator, signaling my doorman to keep quiet with a finger to my lips. He had seen me bring plenty of women here.

I was sure he just assumed it was part of some kinky game.

Which wasn’t wrong, strictly speaking.

It only took me a few more moments to get her upstairs and into the apartment. She didn’t fight, she didn’t struggle, she didn’t say a single word.

It worried me.

I preferred it when she fought.

If she fought, then I knew I hadn’t broken her.

Like this, she wasn’t a big bad Manwarring bitch, she was just a girl, and I wasn’t defending my name, my legacy, or my family.

I was just the asshole who broke an innocent girl.

“Sit down here,” I said, guiding her to sit on the sofa. “Do not move.”

A few years ago, I’d had all the floor-to-ceiling windows treated with blackout shades that were embedded between the two panes of glass. It was perfect to make sure the early morning light didn’t interrupt my rest after a long night of partying. The entire thing was on a timer and could also be controlled by an app. With a few quick taps on my phone, I closed all the shades, hiding the view of the Skyline and closing us off from the world. I also went ahead and locked each of the balcony doors with the same app.

To be sure she didn’t sneak out to the balcony, I planned for us to stay in the guest room. I wasn’t too worried about her being on the balcony. There were no other balconies nearby or even below us, and I didn’t think she would do something as stupid as jump.

The bed in the master suite had been used primarily for sex with a lot of nameless and now faceless women.

I didn’t want to think about why, but I didn’t want Olivia in that bed.

Thankfully, there were two other bedrooms, and one of them had a giant soaking tub. I started a warm bath for her, even adding some Epsom salts to help her recover from the night’s events. I grabbed a large bottle of cold water from the fridge and went back to the living room.

She hadn’t moved. Her hands were still folded in the exact same place on her lap.

I knelt down on the hardwood floor in front of her and removed the now tearstained blindfold.

She kept her eyes lowered, and tears flowed freely down her wet cheeks.

Nothing I could say would fix any of it, so I didn’t say a word.

I took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

She followed obediently to the bathroom.

I sat her down on a bench near the now half-full tub and removed her sandals, throwing them out into the hallway.

On a whim, I picked up her feet one at a time and rubbed them, pressing my thumbs into her arches and soothing away any aches.

She still remained silent.

I stood her up and took off her dress, throwing it next to the shoes. Then I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my tuxedo, tossing each piece haphazardly into the same growing clothes pile.

The tub was getting close to full, and the steam was billowing from the hot water.

Olivia didn’t move, so I took her hand and stepped into the water, pulling her in with me. I sat first, then pulled her onto my lap and started removing the bobby pins from her hair, letting it fall in soft, loose waves.

The ends dipped into the bathwater.

I knew most women would put their hair up in a bath, but once she calmed down, I was sure Olivia would want a proper shower and to wash it anyway.

When I was sure I had removed most of the bobby pins, I tossed them onto the floor.

I wrapped my arm across her chest from behind and tried to ease her back against my chest.

In that moment, something inside of her must have snapped.

An almost unholy wail was torn from her throat as she thrashed in my embrace.

It was like trying to restrain a wet, hurt, and angry cat.

Water sloshed over the edge of the tub as I struggled to restrain her.

Her fingernails raked down the center of my chest, drawing blood.

I hissed air through my clenched teeth, absorbing the sharp sting as the soapy water hit the open wounds.

“Olivia, stop!”

She struck out again, catching me in the jaw.

“Goddammit, woman. I don’t want to hurt you!”

Fuck, even I could appreciate the brutal and hurtful irony of my words in that moment.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused as she threw back her head and laughed without mirth.

I was becoming truly alarmed that I had pushed her over the edge.


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