by Rina Kent
He Hates Me
Hate & Love Duet Book One
Rina Kent
Isabella Starling
He Hates Me Copyright © 2020 by Rina Kent & Isabella Starling
All rights reserved.
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Author Note
Blurb
Playlists
1. Jasper
2. Georgina
3. Jasper
4. Georgina
5. Jasper
6. Georgina
7. Jasper
8. Georgina
9. Jasper
10. Georgina
11. Jasper
12. Georgina
13. Jasper
14. Georgina
15. Jasper
16. Georgina
17. Jasper
18. Georgina
19. Jasper
20. Georgina
21. Jasper
22. Georgina
23. Jasper
24. Georgina
25. Jasper
26. Georgina
27. Jasper
28. Georgina
29. Jasper
30. Jasper
31. Georgina
What’s Next?
About Rina Kent
Also By Rina Kent
About Isabella Starling
Also By Isabella Starling
Author Note
Hello reader friend,
This book is a dark stalker romance with extreme dubious situations.
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He Hates Me is the first book of a duet and is NOT standalone.
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Hate & Love Duet:
#1 He Hates Me
#2 He Hates Me Not
Blurb
Once upon a time, there was a monster.
When the night falls, he comes out to harvest souls.
He’s silent and invisible —no one notices when he strikes then retreats to the shadows.
Our paths shouldn’t have crossed, but they do.
One day he sees me.
Then he can’t unsee me.
Once upon a time, there was a monster, a killer, a devil.
My stalker.
Playlists
Jasper’s Playlist – Rina Kent
Mr. Sandman – SYML
Can’t Help Falling In Love – Tommee Profitt & Brooke
Violence and Spiders – SAINT PHNX
Animals – Maroon 5
Shiver – Coldplay
An Unhealthy Obsession – The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra
Animal – Chase Holdelder
You Are So Beautiful – Tommee Profitt & Brooke
Another Way Out – Hollywood Undead
Without You – Lana Del Rey
Paranoid – I Prevail
Control – Halsey
Sucker For Pain – Lil Wayne & Wiz Khalifa
Savage – Bahari
Nothing Is As It Seems – Hidden Citizens & Ruelle
No Light, No Light – Florence & The Machine
Bones – Equinox
Silver Lining – Hurts
Forever – ALEKSEEV
Beautiful Killer – Madonna
Criminal – Grief Hit
The Haunting – Set It Off
Seven Devils – Florence & The Machine
Dark In My Imagination – of Verona
Until Eternity – Blackbriar
Beast – Mia Martina
Cradles – Sub Urban
Animal Impulses – IAMX
You Don’t Know Me – Son Lux
I Can’t Decide – Scissor Sisters
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You can find the playlist on Spotify.
Georgina’s Playlist – Isabella Starling
Someone I Wanted To Be – Francis Novotny
Oh My God – Alec Benjamin
Always – Gavin James
Here Comes A Feeling – Louis The Child, Naomi Wild & Couros
Fresh Air – Goosetaf & Timothy Infinite
Valkyrie – Tritonal
Reminds Me – Kim Petras
Whoa – Snoh Aalegra & Pharrell Williams
Cold – Boy in Space
Hurts – Steve James, TELYKast & Jordan Shaw
Have You Ever Been in Love – XYLO
The World – TeZATalks
Forget – Shallou
Mona Lisa – Terror Jr & Total Ape
Honeymoon Fades – Sabrina Carpenter
Copy Cat – Melanie Martinz & Tierra Chack
Nice Things – Far East Movement, Henry & AlunaGeorge
If We Never Met – John K & Sigala
No Time To Die – Billie Eilish
At Night – 3LAU, Shaun Frank & Grabbitz
Runnin’ – MOONZz
How to Sleep – EDEN
I Want It All – Casoer Cole, Elderbrook & Route 94
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You can find the complete playlist on Spotify.
1
Jasper
I have one rule: no rules.
Rules are for losers who think the world needs order, then hire men like me to disrupt that order.
The hypocrisy of mankind is both interesting and repulsive.
“Last chance, Serrano.” I stand over the heap of flesh and bones. The blood runs in rivulets across the asphalt, leaving a deep trail in its wake.
Metal smell soaks the air and I would usually let it fill my lungs. People are addicted to inhaling drugs, I’m more engrossed in the smell of life leaving someone’s body and the blood abandoning their veins.
Twirling the knife in my hand, I gulp in air, filling my lungs with...piss.
The motherfucker pissed himself, ruining my bloodfest ceremony. He just had to be a fun-ruiner until the very end.
Time to wrap this clusterfuck up.
Lowering myself to my haunches, I point the tip of my bloodied knife at his half-carved cheek. There’s something about ruining people’s faces, disfiguring them, making them as imperfect as their sombre little souls.
Like Serrano here. He acts like a good little accountant but is in fact the greatest scum of them all.
He tried to fight, I give him that, but it’s futile, isn’t it?
Judging by his two broken legs and the blood dripping from his arms, chest, and face, he didn’t have a chance. I would’ve told him that, but I might have wanted the fight.
“Ser,” I tsk, drawing my knife down his cheek. “Didn’t they teach you in Harvard that a dog can’t steal from his master?”
“P-please, Jasper…” he gurgles. Chocking on one’s own fluid is a curious sound, almost as satisfying as the screams. Almost.
“They should’ve also taught you not to beg your grim reaper.” I cock my head down. “Spoiler alert, it never works.”
“L-let me talk to Costa, I-I—”
“Ser, Ser, you’re kind of an idiot, aren’t you? Not only do you steal from Costa, but you also think he has the time to t
alk to a thief?”
The pleading, pathetic look leaves his middle-aged face and deep darkness shines beneath.
The moment they realize they’re done for and should show their true colors is one of my favorite moments. It’s when they’re at their truest form. The decimation of the human mind, screwing it up, fucking it over, is what I live for.
From his position on the ground, on his stomach, both his hands bound behind his back, Serrano lifts his bloodied face to snarl at me. “Is that why he sent his animal?”
I grin, the first actual emotion I showed him since we started our torture fest. Serrano thinks it’s an insult, but Serrano has always been a fucking idiot, good with numbers, useless with people.
“Exactly.” I lift the knife, letting the blood droplets fall on his non-swollen eye. “An animal is only worth an animal, don’t you think?”
He blinks against the drip but doesn’t change his stance. “A-always the dog, never the master, Jasper.”
“Riddle me this, Ser, isn’t the dog the one who gets the most fun from the hunt?”
“That’s w-what all dogs think.”
This is getting boring, with the smell of piss, it’s becoming irritating, too. I stab my knife into his shoulder, and Serrano wails like a schoolgirl. “This is your last chance to tell me where the money is before I pay a visit to your wife and daughter. I’m curious to see how long I have to carve them up, dog style.”
The bravery from earlier disappears, leaving a complete trembling mess behind, blood dripping, eyes swollen, legs broken.
A useless dog.
I knew threatening his family would get me the response I needed, and that’s why I kept it for last. It’s the fun-ruiner, the fight-breaker.
Humans with weaknesses are the easiest to smash. They’re ruthless animals on the field, but they leave liabilities behind for people like me to feast on.
Serrano tells me everything I need through clenched, crimson-painted teeth. The location of the money, the people who helped him. Everything.
He doesn’t even beg anymore. We’ve been acquaintances for more than ten years. He should know begging never works with me, not when my knife is out, ready to carve up some faces.
After he’s done, I straighten up and snatch back my blade, causing a burst of blood to rip from his shoulder. He still has blood to spare. Interesting.
“A-Are you going to hurt them?” He stares up at me.
That weakness again. He’s forgotten all about himself and is begging for mercy for his little cubs.
“Depends on how much of that money they spent.” I tilt my head to the side. “But you won’t be here to find out.”
“They didn’t, they…” he trails off, having noticed how my expression has turned to utter boredom. “If you spare them, I’ll tell you something no one told you before.”
I lean over to him, pretending to have an interest in what he has to say.
His eyes light up, ears heating with the force of his excitement. There’s an interesting power in hope, it makes people forget their screwed-up situations and bathe in that moment of thrill. Maybe that’s why most of them are useless.
Playable. Disposable. Fucking morons.
“You were never a dog, Jasper. Costa has always —”
I jam my knife in his jugular, cutting him off mid-sentence, then twist it until the sound of tendons being cut fills the air, which still smells of his piss, might I add.
His eyes roll back until the whites are the only things visible. Then, my favorite part happens. They turn vacant.
There. Much better. Silent. Calm.
That’s the problem with Serrano. He talks too much, even when he’s dying. Besides, I never said I was interested in whatever propaganda he was about to spout.
I twist my neck to the side as I stand up. A cut throbs in my side —the only injury Serrano had been able to deliver.
Another cut to add to my little jar of a thousand of them.
I retrieve my phone and dial the only contact on my phone.
“Lucio Costa.”
It’s curious why he would say that, knowing it’s me. But Lucio is the type who likes throwing his name around every chance he gets, so there’s that.
“Nathan Serrano is done.” I stare down at his corpse and then at the knife dripping blood on my Italian shoes.
Shame. I actually liked these shoes.
Maybe I got carried away. Traitors get that response from me.
The storage room’s door barges open, letting the outside world’s air trample over my masterpiece of the night. It chases away the smell of piss though, so there’s that.
I don’t reach for my gun or move from my place near Serrano’s corpse. Only a few people know about this location and they’re all Costas. No one dares to barge into the wealthiest, most notorious crime family in the city. Even the police are our allies. If they saw me, they’d turn the other way, or better yet, they’d clean the storage for me.
A man in his early fifties strolls inside with a phone to his ear and a smug grin plastered on his face. He’s wearing a dark brown Italian-cut suit and Prada shoes he takes so much pride in.
His taste hasn’t changed for the past twenty-one years I’ve known him. Except for the white hairs that appear on his nape which he usually has his coiffeur dye them back to brown.
Lucio Costa.
The heartless devil of Chicago who occupies the throne of the king.
“I can see that.” He stops in front of me, staring down at Serrano’s lifeless body with disinterest. “Where the fuck is my money?”
“Trust funds and deposit boxes. I have the numbers.”
“Good.” He snaps his fingers and his two closest men barge in like hyenas for the lion’s prey.
Stephan and Marco are both buff and merciless, bigger than me, harder than me, with mean faces and the cliché mafia image, but they know better than to fuck with me.
“Marco.” Lucio snaps his fingers between us, a hint of his Italian accent showing through. “Go get my fucking money back. Every last dime.”
As he barks his orders, I lean down and wipe my hands on the small piece of Serrano’s clothes that isn’t tainted in blood. I try to, anyway. There’s no such place.
I rise to my feet and fetch my jacket from the chair and throw it over my shoulder. Blood has made its way to my white shirt. Another wardrobe gone wrong, but it’s proof of a job perfectly done.
“Stephan.” I smile at him. “Take care of the cleaning.”
His mean eyes glare at me, but he’s a good dog, so he doesn’t speak in front of his master without permission.
Still, his face begs for some carving, so I continue, “You have a problem with that, Steph?”
“For someone who kills like a monster, you’re shit at cleaning,” Marco says on his behalf.
“I don’t just kill, killing is normal. Even you kill. I get the information we need all the time. Cleaning is for maids like you two. Keep up, Marc.”
Both their bodies jerk forward, for a fight no doubt, but Lucio stops them with a hand. They wouldn’t have touched me anyway, they’re too coward for that, and I’m too valuable for Lucio.
“Jasper.” Lucio steps between us with a bored expression written all over his face. “Go see the wife and daughter. I need to know if he hid anything else with them.”
He wouldn’t have. Truth is, Serrano wasn’t that much of an idiot. He distributed the funds strategically all over the country and outside of it. He knew he’d get caught, and since his family is his weakness, he wouldn’t have gotten them involved.
I nod at Lucio’s order anyway.
It’s the only way he’ll get off their case. While I’m fine carving up little fuckers’ faces, it’s a hassle to deal with women. If I don’t, Marco and Stephan will do it and they have...peculiar tastes.
At their boss’s order, the two henchmen go about dragging Serrano’s body across the bloodied floor.
I watch the trail for a while until they di
sappear out of the storage.
“You need to stop antagonizing my men.” Lucio’s hard voice brings me back from my quiet observations. “No one likes you in the organization.”
“If I wanted to be liked, I would’ve run for the popularity vote.” I sheathe my knife with its half-dried blood at the back of my pants. “Being liked doesn’t get the job done, fear does.”
He narrows his eyes. “Fear does, yes?”
“Yes, and loyalty. Mine is only with you, not with your organization.”
It’s not a secret. Lucio saved my life when I was twelve and I’ve owed him since then. That’s why I became his willing dog and have been that for over twenty years now.
His most rabid dog.
“I know that, and that’s why I have this job for you.” He gets closer until the space between us is nearly gone. “I will become heir.”
The famous Costa internal war.
Papa Costa, Emilio, has recently died without naming an heir. Now it’s an endless struggle between Lucio and his eldest brother Paolo about who’ll take the reins of the city.
There’s only room for one king in this war. When kings clash, the loser is sure to die.
Lucio Costa doesn’t like losing or dying.
“You will have it.” I suppress a yawn. “Paolo is sick and unfit to rule.”
