Sold To The Possessive Mafia Boss นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Chapter 1: Interest in Flesh Trope: Mafia / Debt / Captive Heat Level: [NOIR] The basement smelled like damp concrete and expensive cigars. Sofia sat on a wooden chair, her hands tied behind her back. She looked up as the heavy metal door groaned open. Marco stepped in. He wasn't wearing a suit today…just a black undershirt that showed off the tattoos climbing up his neck. He was the man her father owed five million dollars to. And since her father didn't have the cash, he had offered Sofia instead.

Asher asked firmly. The man grinned. “Well, I must say—they’re quite good in combat. Can I buy them from you? I like strong people, and I’m willing to pay more than you do.” Asher’s expression hardened. “They’re my bodyguards, not items for sale.” The mafia boss didn’t take the rejection well. He threw the wine glass to the ground, shattering it into pieces. “Who do you think you are? I said I want them! Or would you rather die here tonight?”

Malik, one of the oldest yet youngest players of the underworld who secretly traded in drugs. "Boss, the payment is here, Malik sent half the amount in cash and the rest I'd transferred in your bank. Max Stokes' company is sold out as said by you." Nelson presented the papers to the mafia king. He accepted the signed copy of the papers and stared it. His eyes dramatically rolled not before dismissing his guards and defeatedly grunt, "What an irony, I can't believe I had to sell away three companies to collect some money! This is unbelievable." he threw the file on the table and closed his eyes.

my stepmother whispered. My feet rooted to the floor. “Do you want us to die? I’m pregnant, for God’s sake. Think about the baby. All you have to do is give her to him.” My chest squeezed tight. A long silence followed before my father spoke, his voice rough. “He’s a killer. No matter what you say, I can’t sell my daughter to a mafia boss who murders people for fun.” My stomach dropped. Mafia? “No, no, don’t call it that,” my stepmother said quickly. “You’re not selling her. You’re just… letting him have her for a little while.”

“As expected of a mafia boss. Name the price, then. I’ll see if I can fulfill it.” At the back of my head, I was hoping it wouldn’t be illegal, but what was I thinking? I was bargaining with a mafia boss! “Well, to start off, let go of the trophy,” he stated, slightly lifting his chin up. I bit the inside of my cheek. Fuck. I didn’t want to do that just yet. I wanted to remain cautious. I wanted to stay in control. However, before I could even choose what path to take, he turned the tables on me. He swiped the glass trophy from my hand, pushed me backward and pinned me down the mattress. He was on top of me in the next second.

he said trying to hide the tense in his tone. "Yeah I didn't expect too that I will call you." "Is there something that you want from me?" he directly asked. Basil doesn't want to take the call too long. He's not comfortable knowing he is talking the Mafia Boss ahead of him. Iioan cleared his throat. "I heard you're selling Narcotics." "Yes Mr. Monaco." "I heard a lot of things about you and I guess you're not one of the preceding that fools me." he said. "I want to negotiate Basil Zafeiriou. Ten million in dollars for a five boxes of your Narcotics."

She strapped the cock back on and fucked me slowly on the floor while the family watched, claiming me as her personal trophy in front of everyone. I came hard around the strap-on, moaning her name as my mind sank deeper into submission. The mafia had bought me. And I was already addicted to being their shared, broken, willing pet.

"I make it my business to know things, Mrs. Valentino. Especially things that belong to me." "I don't belong to you!" "The papers say otherwise." His thumb brushed across her lower lip. "Your husband's signature says otherwise. The hundred million dollars say otherwise." She jerked her head away from his touch. "Money doesn't buy people!" "It just did." He stepped back, giving her room to breathe. "But don't worry. I'm not Marcus. I don't want a trophy wife or a political asset." "Then what do you want?" His smile was visible even beneath the mask—sharp and predatory.

“Even when all the options are bad.” She folded her hands together. “You said you would explain.” “Yes.” He sat across from her, resting his forearms on his knees. “Your boss is dead.” Her breath caught. “What?” “He tried to sell you twice in one night,” Dante continued calmly. “That was a mistake.” “You killed him?” she whispered. “I ordered it,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.” Her stomach churned. “Because of me?” “Because of what he knew,” Dante said. “And because of what he did.”