Sneaking Suit The Boss Novels & Stories

Initialed. Cassien Voclain. My boss. My forbidden, devastating boss. He was the kind of man who didn’t raise his voice because he didn’t need to. Who looked at you like he already knew what you tasted like when you were desperate. Who made women stare just from the cut of his suit. And I was his child’s nanny. I touched the silk tie draped over the chair. Brought it to my lips like a girl starved of affection. It smelled like him. Clean, arrogant, masculine.

It is impossible. Alternatively, impossible is not a fact. It is an opinion. “Haa…” I caught my forehead, sighing, and then the door behind me opened. The second I looked back; I saw my boss. Lanceil was wearing his sexy back suit, with white sleeves underneath. Three buttons were opened, displaying masculinity. His brown hair was brushed up, showing his forehead, he was so charismatic. The cold eyes and the formal attire covering the veins on his thick arms, I swear to God he’s my ultimate ideal type.

The caption read: "Where can you find such a considerate boss! I'd happily give my life to this job!" It was followed by a flood of envy and compliments from the entire group of colleagues. "I've never seen the big boss like this. Isn't he supposed to have extreme germaphobia? You can't tell at all!" "Oh my god, a man out of a bespoke suit is so sexy! You can feel the testosterone through the screen. Deadly. I'm officially a fan." "Dream on. The future Mrs. Boss posted that. We're just here to clock in and clock out."

Could it be that the boss had taken a fancy to this little star today? The door was pushed open and Bryson sat on the sofa with a frosty expression on his face. His brows were tightly knitted together. "Boss, what happened?" the assistant asked anxiously. "It's fine. Put down my clothes, you can leave now." Bryson's thin lips parted. The assistant quickly put down the clothes, closed the door, and left. Ten minutes later, Bryson changed into a custom-made black suit. The cut was smooth and flawless, giving off an indescribably holy and noble aura.

This is because, four seconds before he entered, Alyssa threw a book towards the door he was to pass through. She didn't just throw a book. She did it in a way that made it look like Henry did was responsible for the suddenly flying book. She also sped up and took her seat, pretending that nothing happened. The book was just close enough to hit the boss but then he suddenly caught it. I was quite surprised. It was almost as if he was a werewolf himself. But of course he isn't, werewolves could always identify themselves with a certain kind of scent. Our boss's name is Stark. He is also a billionaire. He hates people who lazy off at work instead of doing what they are meant to be doing.

" Boss. I was about to hit her with my truck unexpectedly that man saved her" The figure threw out the stump of the cigarette. The middle age man saw his face turn dark at the reminder. He swallowed hard falling to his knbeggingeggi I am the sorry boss" " You let her go but_ I am not going to let you go. I Will give you till three to escape one.. ." A shot resounded in the air And Jeffrey fell onto the ground, his fingers moved as he began to use his nails to crawl out of there. Unfortunately, the figure in the shadows grabbed the man by his curly brown hair his eyes pierced through the bullet hole in his stomach. A grin of satisfaction took over the boss's lips.

Realizing what was about to unfold, Annette swiftly pulled out her phone and dialed Hudson's number, out of fear, her back still turned to the men. Hudson answered on the first ring, and spoke lazily. "Hey, you okay? Want me to come in?" She remained silent, her eyes fixed on the thieves from her hiding corner. The apparent leader, taller and bulkier than the others, stepped forward. His mask had a distinctive red stripe, and a tattoo of a snake coiled around his right wrist. A silver tag on his mask read ‘Big Wolf’. "Everyone, get down! Hands up! We want your money!" Big Wolf yelled, his voice thick and echoing through the mall.

This totally sucks. The doorbell rang, so I opened the door. He was standing there with a bouquet of lilies. He wasn't wearing a suit this time. Instead, he dressed up in a solid black dress shirt with dark grey jeans. His arm muscles were rippling under the rolled-up sleeves, and I immediately pictured them around my hips. Seriously, now is not the time to lust over the sexy boss who is about to become the sexy baby daddy. "Um...thank you, please have a seat," I said.

Towering above me are long legs covered in tailored trousers. As I follow them up, they lead to a trim waist, a black belt, and a white shirt that buttons over a broad chest. I barely swallow the lump in my throat as I recognize the wide shoulders covered with the matching suit jacket. Seizing the napkin, I stand, suddenly face to face with one of the owners of the company where I work. My face burns with embarrassment as his shimmering green eyes narrow and head tilts. Inches away from me is one of the handsomest men I've ever met. He should be on the cover of GQ, not gracing the halls of Buchanan and Willis.

The air grew colder, damper, carrying the faint mineral smell of underground water. Inside the main chamber, perhaps twenty men waited beneath the dim glow of battery lamps. The ceiling disappeared into darkness; enormous stalactites hung like the fangs of some ancient beast. In the center stood Don Bertaleo, the current boss of bosses, a small, compact man from the interior whose quiet voice could order a dozen deaths before breakfast. He held a huge machete in one hand, its blade catching the lamplight, his head slightly bowed in the traditional gesture of humility before the assembly. Some of the older representatives wore the coppola, the flat cap of the countryside, pulled low over thei