Taming Her Billionaire Boss

"Please, please, I'm telling the truth," his plea was interrupted by a squelching punch across his battered face. Tied to a rolling chair, he tumbled to the cold floor, splodged in his own blood. "Help!" he yelled. "Somebody help!" Sighing, Michael lifted the wounded man from the ground and righted him in his former position under the dim yellow light in the dungeon. He squatted beside him, "It's no use crying, baby. We're twenty miles away from the City. You either tell me what you know, or daddy will be late for his daughter's birthday." Shell-shocked, he lifted his head to meet Michael's smirk. Blood trickled down his nostrils and the side of his face to his white dress shirt browned and dyed in red by contact. His left eyes were swollen and completely covered with the other imbound on the same route. Aside suffering a broken lip, he'd have to wear dental implants for the rest of his life. "I dare you to touch my daughter," he snarled, shooting Michael darts with his gaze. His

Avery Avery swore it was her alarm this time. She'd woken up a bit later than the expected time. "Taxi! Taxi!" She shouted, waving her hand furiously above her head. Instead, they zoomed past her like she was a ghost. "Why today of all days?!" Her interview at King's Fashion House was at stake. It was bad enough that she overslept. Her alarm broke, and she'd forgotten to fix it before going to bed the previous night. The urge to break down in tears seized her, but she had to be strong. With her old black purse slung across her shoulder, she clutched a big brown manila folder to her stomach. An aggregate of ill-tempered commuters lined the same sidewalk she stood, trimming her chances of meeting up with the interview. Time was ticking fast, and in Empire City, it ticked faster. Glancing over her wristwatch, Avery knew she could kiss the hope of finding a job goodbye. Her mother had been in a vegetative state for three years in Lighthouse Hospital after suffering brain damage

Michael "You don't say!" Pedro mused from the other end of the line. "A girl that has Michael King worked up is no ordinary girl." Michael rolled his eyes, strolling into the elevator, with his phone pressed to his ear. "Don't even think about. she's not my type. I don't do slums." "Coming from someone who came from the slums too," Pedro scoffed. Pedro and Michael came from the same orphanage. Unlike him, his parents abandoned him at the gate of the orphanage, barely two days after his birth. Though, Pedro and Michael were age mates, Pedro saw Michael as an older brother, and the latter never failed to act in thst regard, protecting him at all times. "I'll take the insult because it's coming from you," Michael snapped. "Be warned, Ped." "It's Pedro, not Ped. You know I hate that nickname!" Pedro hollered as Michael scoffed. Riling Pedro up was a game Michael loved playing. He hated the nickname and Michael never stopped taunting him with it. "And don't use that tone on

"What the hell are you doing sitting on that chair?!" she blurted, fuming to the table. The same grumpy peacock from the taxi was sitting on the boss chair as if he owned the place. Her instinct told her to raise a theft alarm; an imposter alarm, if there's anything like it, or press a button to call the security, but unfortunately, she has no right in the company... yet. "Are you blind or plain dumb? This is my chair, of course!" he retorted. "Do I look like a kid to you? I'm not on pigtails and scrunches for your information. You think people's lives revolve around your scrawny fingers?" she fired, arms akimbo. "Get off that chair and tell me where Mr King is!" Rich folks, she boldly concluded, are a rotten piece of arrogant, spoilt minions. With his unexpected intrusion, her chances of securing her newly found job dangled weakly in the air. "How dare you call my fingers scrawny?!" he grounded, "Do you know how much it takes me to perfect my manicure?" he said, displayin

Avery Avery's jaw dropped to the ground. "You can't be serious." "Oh, I am," he smirked. "That's outrightly preposterous! No one would ever sign up for a deal like that!" She imagined walking round the table, and smacking some sense into him. Instead, she kept her cool, fighting the stormy rage stirring within her. Her mother's life depended on it. "Do you want the job or not?" Avery stared silently at him. Mixed reactions swirled into her head. Her crush was a certified handsome prick. "If you don't like my generous offer, I believe you know your way out of my office and company," he hissed, glaring darts at her. He assured her that the taxi mishap was a thing of the past. So, why was he making her suffer? He lied to her. She bit back the tears welling in her eyes. He's not worth her precious tears. Despite the brewing resentment she had for him, tingles awakened in her core. How dare he affect her this way? Why would he be so evil and breath-taking at the same ti