Độc Quyền Chiếm Hữu Mga Nobela at Kwento

“I don’t stop for anything that touches what I own. Learn that now, or I’ll teach everyone else too. Only one person in Wolfe Corporation could lock every screen, hijack every speaker, and call her “ what i own” like it was law. Damien

she said while I held on to the necklace. "You are Quinn Giovanni, first born and heiress to the Giovanni family the second most powerful mafia family in the country."

I will love you and only you for as long as I live. I give my heart to you, only you. And no matter what happens, I will never take it back. I don't want you to be uncertain about our future or be insecure. You are the only one I want to kiss, the only one I want to make love to, the only one I want to bear my children and the only one I want to be beside me until the end of my life.

"And I'm still annoyed you exist before nine AM. Nobody should be that functional before coffee. We stood there in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the city move below us. It was weird—this thing between us. Not friendship exactly, but not pure antagonism either. Something in between, something undefined and probably dangerous. "Thank you," I said finally. "For earlier. The whole white knight thing. It was... unexpected." "I protect what's mine." The possessive edge in his voice sent a shiver down my spine that I absolutely did not want to analyze. "Contract or not, you're my wife. No one gets to hurt you." "Except you?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. His jaw tigh

"Are you kidding me? I know so gurl. At least uncle Obinna wouldn't be reaping where he did not sow." Uncle Obinna used to be our favourite uncle and he was the only maternal uncle we had. He was always buying us ice cream and cheese while we were kids and when we became young adults, he always took us shopping. To cut a long story short, uncle Obinna was the perfect definition of a great uncle until my mum's death; hate, greed and selfishness was borne in his heart. He suddenly started showing interest in my mum's company, insisting that he should be the one heading the company since his sister; my mum was dead. Technically, dad took over the rein of the company from my maternal grandfather

It was delivered not in a shout, but in a low, resonant, utterly certain whisper that carried the weight of absolute truth. “You’re mine. That’s who.” The words were not possessive in a romance, cliche way. They were possessive the way a king lays claim to land. The way a master sculptor lays claim to the clay. It was a declaration of creation, of fact, of sole ownership.

He folded his arms across his broad chest, projecting the absolute posture of a dominant ruler. "You are draped in my shirt, Moza. Do you honestly presume I would let you walk out of here that easily?"

Second, I am not interested in him, and I think he feels the same. I really don't understand why everyone is fond of owning something when, in fact, you cannot own anything in this world unless that thing or that someone lets you own him or her. We cannot own humans, we cannot own power, we cannot own the throne, we cannot own something or someone... and we cannot own a life. All you can do is to keep on telling people that you own him because you were afraid that someone else might own him too, or that someone might steal him away from you.