Helluva Boss Novels & Stories

He turned towards me while looking me from head to toe. "F***! F***!" he cursed under his breath. What happened to him? ************************************ How is it ?

The leather seat was cold and somehow, Chad seated next to her made the entire air freaking hot. Her boss was none other than Chad Steele, billionaire heir and Playboy of the city. He was a ruthless businessman and a cassanova. Chad Steele wasn't one to settle for anything, not even in business. Woman fell all over him and he had his daily pick. When Olivia had gotten an appointment letter from Steele Inc, she'd made herself a promise to stay away from her boss, but clearly fate has other plans. Somehow, she ended up his secretary after the last one resigned without reason and now, the very man she planned to avoid was in her face 24/7.

~2 months later~ The press has been relentless. Always trying to snap photos of me. Of Atlas. Of us together. We always made the headlines. “CEO Atlas Jones and new girlfriend Calliope Blackwood” “Calliope Blackwood, A Gold Digger?” Atlas eventually decided to hold a press conference to address the issues publically. I haven’t been feeling good lately. I’m laying on the couch cuddled up with not so small Titan watching it live.

“So don't blame innocent guys.” “Carter!” Frank Moore's voice cut through the office like a rusty knife. My boss loomed over my desk, his cheap suit reeking of cigarettes and… failure. He slapped a folder down hard enough to make my empty coffee cup rattle. “Drop the Z-list crap. I've got your next assignment.” I flipped open the folder. A glossy 8x10 headshot of a man stared back at me, all sharp cheekbones, icy blue eyes, and a smirk that probably made stockbrokers wet their pants.

One of his hands was lodged casually inside his pocket while the other was relaxed near the gun at his side. His boring, flat eyes skimmed over me like I was nothing to him. “I was… just looking around.” I said while straightening my spine. Hoping I looked as confident as I thought I sounded “Of course "However, the boss would rather you stay for dinner." He spoke in a respectful tone I was about to argue when a voice, as smooth as silk and as sharp as a blade, interrupted. "My curious kitten, ." Halfway down the stairs, Luca stood with his jacket gone, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and tattoos that seemed to belong, on his forearm.

“Just go to hell!” “I would gladly go to hell but not alone! I will drag your sons with me. HAHAHA!” “W-What?” “Oh! Haha. The real Boss was scared. What a pleasing view…” The Chief even wiped the tears formed on the side of his eyes because of laughing. “What would you feel if I told you that your sons are about to kill each other? That’s exciting, right?” He looks crazy. “You motherf*cking—son of a b*tch!” Debirion, the real Boss, pointed his gun at the Chief and didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. He shouted as he felt the pain in his shoulder.

Where are you going to Matteo looking like that? "With you. No one dare messes with my Serena. All for one, one for all. Hey! You're still the boss of Italy, no dog can take that from you" " Thanks. But you ain't coming" " We make a great team" " I can't let you take this Mafia path. It's bloody" " Then let's swim in the bloody pool boss" " Fine." " Good. Now let's get going". " Hey.. you're not the boss of me. I Am The Boss" I smiled.

Instead, she’d been fucked into oblivion by the man she’d thought was just her demanding, impossible boss. Her demanding boss who was also her mysterious online Dom. Her demanding boss who’d made her scream his name loud enough that his neighbors probably heard. Loud enough that she’d lost her voice. Her demanding boss who’d held her after, who’d bathed her in his huge marble tub, who’d brushed her hair with such tenderness she’d nearly cried. She should feel violated. Manipulated. Used. Instead she felt… peaceful. More peaceful than she’d felt in years. Maybe ever. Like something inside her had finally clicked into place. Like a puzzle piece finding the slot it was always meant to fill. Lik

A few bulky bodyguards stepped in. They slammed me down and ripped my clothes off. A neon vest—"FAKE"—went on. A placard hung from my neck. The camera zoomed in for the livestream. [Hell yeah! You're the king! This is peak content. Every expose hits hard!] [Thought rich dudes act untouchable why you crawling now.] [Philip, don't stop. Keep it coming. Need the next part.] Philip looked down at me. "My fans want it? I deliver."

And the oldest, Giacomo, grey temples, Roman accent thick as supplì—his own countryman, inside for life since the Banda della Magliana days. They watched Vito the way wolves watch a new dog enter the pen. Giacomo flicked his cigarette away and walked over, slow, no hurry. “Vito Andolini,” he said, voice low. “They told me the Boss finally arrived. Thought you’d be taller.” Vito met his eyes. “They told you wrong. I’m not the boss of anything anymore.” Giacomo smiled without warmth. “In here, everyone’s something. Question is what you’re willing to pay to become it again.”