Boss Possesive Novels & Stories

Roll your eyes" I can always replace lunch at dinner time. And regarding work, you know I can't leave it, how would I pay for the house? Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. This is a town where, even as a homeowner, you have to pay a monthly fee for always living here. Go town. Wow boss. The whole town is run by one person: the boss of the Russian mafia, or as many call it: The Boos. Few people have seen his face, few people know where he is, and few people know exactly what he does. I don't know what he does with all the money from the townspeople, since being so filthy rich I highly doubt he needs it. But hey, it's not like I'm going to ask. I've told you a thousand times that... "And I have

My unsure answer adds to his dry amusement, the slightly tilted corner of his pink lips tells me loud and clear that he sees past my facade. "How has business been going?" Gianni questions and soon his voice fills up the void. I pity Gianni because he's trying to validate himself in front of Alessio by boasting about the dealings he's been doing for the past months and when Alessio tells him that there's a rat among the Russo family who's interfering with the money — the sweat beads forming on Gianni's forehead are hard to miss.

She grabbed the door knob and turned around to face me. "Fight for your man," she said. She walked back towards me and placed a book on my lap. "This is a book I wrote when I first started with Gregory. I want you to read it." No you are wrong, Zoey. He isn't my man. He is my boss. After breakfast we started giving Papa his birthday gift. I bought a wristwatch for him. Gregory got him a car...a f**king car! I was mortified because I should have tried to buy something more significant.

Dianna explained and was sorry. She gave him a sweet, comforting smile while her hands rested on his lap. Until Klaud stopped the car, cupped her soft, flawless cheeks. "Why did you stop? I thought we are in a hurry?" She looked at him confusingly, but he remained silent. There was something in his eyes that made her knees weak and tremble. "I can't help but look at you every second! I... I want to hold you! I... want to feel you, Dianna, and I don't know what is happening to me! I... I became possessive of you...,"

I don’t know why I feel so damn possessive of this woman. This woman who won’t be claimed.

“That’s the point, Cassie. I don’t want Rowan. I don’t want Liam. I want to know I can have them—or at least pieces of them—whenever I choose. The power. The control. That’s the fun.” Cassie exhaled sharply, almost laughing from disbelief. “You’re insane. You don’t even care about love, do you?” “Love?” I smirked. “Love is boring. Possession is better. People fall in and out of love all the time, but when you possess something —when you take it, when it’s yours—it doesn’t matter how anyone else feels. Look at this bag. Piper would probably cry if she knew Rowan bought this for me. That’s worth more than love.”

"I mean, is he always like this? Like bossy?" Nonna Luisa finally stopped what she was doing and turned to Calla, a faint smile on her face. "Bossy? No. Protective, sì," she replied with a shrug. That wasn’t the reply Calla was looking for, and in what world is Rico protective? That monster of a man was not protective—he was just… possessive. The kind who’d keep you locked up somewhere fancy and call it caring, who’d scare off anyone who came too close, but never bother to ask if you wanted him to in the first place.

It was the voice of the Owner, issued as an undeniable command. “Drake. You’ve had your moment with my player.” Julian scoffed, tightening his arm around my waist. “Hardly, Blackwell. We’re discussing a potential future. I believe this song is mine.” Damian didn’t acknowledge him. His gaze was fixed entirely on me, his eyes storm-cloud gray, reflecting a terrifying, possessive heat. He wasn't asking; he was claiming. “I believe this is the final turn, Logan,” Damian stated, his voice a rasp, demanding compliance. “The last dance belongs to the Boss.”

This wasn't just a statement; it was a vow, spoken in a language that felt more intimate, more binding. His hand cupped my jaw, his thumb grazing my bottom lip, and his eyes darkened with a possessive, unwavering claim. "Personne ne t’aimera comme moi. Personne ne te protégera comme moi. Personne ne te possédera comme moi." No one will love you like I do. No one will protect you like I do. No one will possess you like I do. The word "possédera" — will possess — echoed in the silent room. It should have frightened me. Part of me was frightened. But a larger part of me felt a shocking, undeniable thrill.

"And if you propose to fulfill another wish to feed your ego, then I would like you to leave me alone." She left without looking at him one last time, pretending to be calm as if nothing had happened. Andrei remained in his place, tensing his lips, watching her walk away beautifully dressed and composed. Again, that annoying coldness took over his chest, so he ignored it, taking another sip of his drink. The restaurant owner, who also knew the mobster, approached him. "Is everything alright, Mr. Borisov?" Andrei lifted his gaze to the woman, feeling guilty for disturbing this place that was always so peaceful, and he nodded in response to her question.