Helluva Boss Striker Novels & Stories

“Don’t boss me around! We’re both lawyers!” “That’s not what your contract says, does it? Be ready at eight. That’s final.” If he keeps barking orders at me, I swear I’ll throttle him. Or claw his face off. Then again, he might sue me. Better just curse at him—but in a way that won’t get me into legal trouble. I wanted to yell Go to hell! but I held it in. He probably already knows his final destination. No need to rub it in. “You orangutan!”

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.

“Our manager is downstairs, but you cannot just walk in to see him.” I ignored her, pushing her to the side. “Sir, sir please.” I pulled out my gun and placed it against her head. Soon the entire room was standing, their guns pointed at me. “Are you going to tell me who the boss is?” All the strippers had paused, fear in their eyes. The DJ continued playing music though, but I waited. “I'm here,” someone said from behind me. “What do you want?” “You the boss?” “Some may call me that,” the person replied. I smirked and raised my gun up, causing the woman to immediately scurry away. “Put your guns away boys, you don't want to die.”