Billionaire Obsession Novels & Stories

She couldn’t deny his capability as a businessman. She had seen his strategies. He had built multiple multimillion-dollar companies, and even without his father’s influence, he dominated Wall Street like a king lounging on his throne. So what made someone like him step into a bet like this? “Obsession?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. “I’m not like your other little whores who throw themselves at you, right? So this is just another thrill for you. Conquer the unconquerable?” she continued.

Leaning back into my chair, I asked softly, “Do you know what happens to men who steal from me?” “I didn’t steal…” “...twenty thousand dollars missing,” I cut in with a calm voice. “And the supplier in Marseille suddenly goes AWOL right after you call him? That’s not a coincidence.” Slamming his hand against the table, he yelled, “You think you’re untouchable because you wear the Ledger name? You’re nothing, just a spoiled heir who inherited his father’s kingdom!” His voice echoed across the glass walls and I felt my patience snap like a taut wire.

"It’s the only way a girl of her pedigree can experience luxury. Through a glass case, under heavy guard." ​I sat perfectly still. I didn't retort. They were right. I was a Harrington by name, but my bank account was a graveyard of debt and hospital invoices. In this room, where money was the only language spoken, I was mute. ​The auction Masterpieces were paraded across the stage... statues, paintings, and jewelry that shimmered with a blinding, aggressive wealth. But as the night wore on, I noticed something. My eyes, sharpened by years of looking for value in the ruins of my own life, began to spot the cracks in the glamour.

There were a thousand things that could go wrong. To occupy my time and divert my attention from the situation, I opted to look through one of the magazines nearby. I chose the one titled America's Most Eligible Billionaires, and you would never guess who appeared on both the cover and the center spread. It's none other than Mr. Maximilian McTavish.

Immediately a clap of thunder made the room shudder. This was where I knew it would get interesting, I wasn't surprised by the name Hawkins called on, Dante Melendez was your typical—tall-fine—looking young billionaire who was probably in his 30s, and was also among the people of timber and caliber who donated to the Havard University, apparently it wasn't only Havard but other prestigious universities and high schools also.

He really is mad and annoyed but I could not care less because I find him funny and cute. After the staff and janitress finished cleaning the kitchen, I thanked them and asked for the price of the vases and everything that Mister Ramirez has broke. And oh, those vases are so expensive and he has to pay half of a million. This is not a big deal for him for sure since he is a billionaire. Tsk.

"They'll both realize you're not worth the trouble you bring. The family drama, the scandal, the chaos that comes with your baggage is not everyone can handle. And you'll have nowhere else to go but back into my arms. Won't you?" I stared at him, my heart pounding, and suddenly something clicked into place. Something about the way he was looking at me... not with love, not even with genuine desire. He looked at me like he wanted to possess me. With Obsession. His need went far beyond normal emotion. "Why are you so obsessed with me, Chase?" I asked, calmer but more pointed. "This can't be love. This isn't what love looks like. Is it the money you're looking for? My father's business connecti

Nolan Vale has no heart. That is what he tells himself every time he seduces a target, steals a secret, and disappears before the sun rises. Known only by his codename, Ghost, he is the most valuable asset in an organization that does not exist on paper, trained since childhood to become whoever a mission requires him to be. His newest assignment should be simple. Infiltrate the Blackwood empire. Get close to the twin heirs who built an unshakable dynasty on the bones of their enemies. Extract the truth buried beneath their fortune. Walk away before anyone learns his name. But Alistair Blackwood, the Ice King of New York, does not simply fall for beautiful strangers. He collects them, stud

Micah echoed, his brow arching in skepticism. "She was grieving," I pressed on, desperately trying to convince myself of the corporate, sterile narrative I had forcefully fed to Thea hours ago. "She was beautiful, she was entirely dependent on me, and I lost my goddamn mind. I crossed a line that never should have been crossed. I let a physical obsession compromise a multi-billion-dollar empire and put her directly in the crosshairs of her vulture relatives." "Right," Micah said slowly, clearly not buying a single syllable of my self-flagellation. "Because Stellan Vaughn, the man who bankrupts rivals for sport, is known for losing his empire over a simple physical itch."

I bellowed, raising my wine glass high. Hawk, Asher, and Delt mirrored the motion with bright smiles on their faces. “Cheers, Boss.” When I raised my eyes to the windows, they reflected my red-rimmed eyes. Ignoring it, I focused on the girl who had been pestering me for a dance. I grinded against the girl while my other hand fondled the tits of a woman who was half-drunk and fully thrilled to be near me. “Thirteenth richest man under forty,” the media said. “Youngest billionaire to legally dominate an entire metropolitan empire.”