Kissing The Boss's Daughter
Elara Valente has lived her life under her father's control, a mafia princess trapped in luxury. But when she meets Luca, a humble baker who sees her for who she truly is, her world begins to change.
Secret meetings, stolen moments, and forbidden attraction ignite a slow-burning romance-but danger lurks at every turn. With a strict father, an arranged marriage, and watchful cousins, Elara must choose: follow her heart, or obey the world she was born into.
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Chapter 5
The night air wrapped around Elara like a forbidden promise. For years, she had felt imprisoned within the walls of the Valente mansion, watched at every turn by her twelve cousins and an invisible army of guards. But tonight, the corridors were empty, the household quiet, and for the first time, the possibility of freedom seemed tangible.
Her heart raced as she carefully unlatched the small servant’s door she had discovered days ago, the one that led into the narrow service alley behind the estate. It was a simple mechanism, almost laughably easy for anyone who knew where to look—but Rafael’s security measures rarely failed. The thrill of breaking them, of slipping past the eyes that always followed her, made her pulse pound.
The cool breeze greeted her like a friend, carrying scents she had almost forgotten—smoke from distant chimneys, the faint aroma of baking bread from the city streets below, and the subtle tang of rain on cobblestones. She stepped lightly, her silk slippers pressing softly against the stone, careful to avoid the sound that could betray her presence. The city awaited beyond the mansion walls, vibrant, alive, and infinitely more dangerous than the gilded cage she had called home.
Elara’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as she glanced back once, just once, at the towering silhouette of her home. Within those walls, her father ruled with an iron hand, her cousins kept constant watch, and the rules of the Valente family dictated every breath she took. Out here, in the narrow streets bathed in lamplight, she was invisible. She was free.
The sounds of the city wrapped around her. Footsteps echoed in the alleyways, muffled voices drifted from taverns and cafés, and the distant clatter of a carriage reminded her that life carried on in a rhythm she had never known. Every corner she turned seemed alive with possibility, and yet every shadow felt like a potential threat. She had learned from experience that freedom was exhilarating—but never without danger.
As she wandered deeper into the winding streets, the faint aroma of freshly baked bread led her instinctively to a small bakery tucked between two brick buildings. Its warm glow spilled onto the cobblestone, inviting, comforting, almost intimate. Elara paused, drawn by the smell and the simple human pleasure it promised.
The door jingled softly as she entered, and the scent enveloped her completely. Warm, yeasty, golden—like nothing she had ever experienced in the cold, controlled air of the mansion. Behind the counter stood a young man, his hands dusted with flour, dark hair falling carelessly over his forehead, eyes that were at once confident and kind. He looked up and smiled, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.
“Welcome,” he said, his voice steady, casual, as though she were just another customer. “What can I get for you?”
Elara’s throat tightened. She had practiced her composure, rehearsed her manners, but now it seemed pointless. “Just…something simple,” she managed to reply, her voice quieter than intended.
He nodded, moving with effortless grace, kneading dough as if it were second nature. “Our sourdough is fresh out of the oven. Would you like a slice?”
She nodded, captivated by the way he moved, the ease with which he handled the flour, the way he didn’t seem to notice her unusual attire or the air of quiet command she carried naturally. In that moment, she realized she hadn’t felt like this in years—unobserved, unjudged, normal.
When he handed her the warm bread, their fingers brushed ever so slightly. Elara felt a spark, fleeting but undeniable, and quickly pulled her hand back, cheeks warming. The glance he gave her was fleeting too, and yet somehow loaded with meaning she couldn’t quite decipher.
“I—I should go,” she stammered, suddenly aware of how little time she had before her absence might be noticed.
“Are you sure?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You don’t seem like someone who enjoys being rushed.”
Elara smiled, a small, secretive curve of her lips. “Some of us are used to being watched,” she said lightly, letting the words hover in the air.
He tilted his head, studying her for a moment, then laughed softly. “Well, I promise not to tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.”
For a moment, she considered telling him more—about who she was, about the life she was leaving behind, about the man her father had chosen for her—Daniel Carter—but caution outweighed impulse. She was not ready to risk it yet.
“Thank you,” she whispered instead, taking the bread carefully, savoring the warmth in her hands. “I’ll come back.”
He smiled again, and she felt it linger, a subtle tether between them that she hadn’t expected. Turning, she stepped back into the alley, the city sounds enveloping her once more. The streets were no longer just cobblestones and shadows—they were possibilities, tempting, thrilling, and just dangerous enough to make her heart race.
As she retraced her path to the mansion, Elara felt a rare mix of exhilaration and fear. Her cousins would surely notice something, Rafael would fume if he knew, and Daniel Carter—when he inevitably arrived—would be an unmovable obstacle in her carefully plotted life. Yet for the first time in as long as she could remember, she had touched a world that was hers, if only for a few precious hours.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn’t stop thinking about the baker—the warmth in his eyes, the fleeting spark of their fingers, and the subtle thrill of being someone ordinary, if only for a moment. A forbidden thought, yes, but deliciously intoxicating.
Elara Valente had tasted freedom, and she wanted more.
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8.6
I was eight months pregnant with the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. My husband, Austen, told me he was hosting a private celebration to honor me and the baby.
But when I walked into the warehouse, the steel doors slammed shut behind me.
I wasn't in a ballroom. I was locked inside an industrial glass freezer.
Through the thick glass, I saw Austen standing with his assistant, Deb. They were laughing. He told me he didn't care about his son; he only cared about the trust fund that would unlock upon my father's death.
"Cool her off," he ordered.
His men dumped buckets of ice water onto me. The shock was instant. I begged him to stop, screaming for the life of our child, but he just watched with cold eyes.
As I collapsed into a slush of ice and my own blood, I felt the baby fade away.
Austen thought he had won. He thought my father, the Don, was dead and buried. He thought I was just a helpless, spoiled princess he could dispose of to seize the throne.
He was wrong.
With my last ounce of strength, I looked through the glass and mouthed three words: "He is coming."
Before Austen could react, the warehouse doors didn't just open—they exploded inward.
And through the smoke walked the man Austen thought was worm food.
My father wasn't dead. But my husband was about to wish he was.
9.5
I was a disgraced heiress hiding as a dishwasher in a high-end club, scrubbing lipstick off glasses until my fingers went numb. One night, I was forced to deliver a bottle of vintage whiskey to the penthouse, only to find the tech billionaire Kenan Cervantes collapsing from a lethal neural storm. I used my surgeon’s training to save his life, holding him in the dark until his fever finally broke.
The next morning, the world I knew shattered. My coworker Tiffany, who hadn't even stepped foot in the room, claimed my identity as the savior. She signed a non-disclosure agreement and walked away with a $200,000 check, while I was accused of stealing the whiskey and had my entire month's wages forfeited as punishment.
While Tiffany was flaunting Chanel suits and posting photos from his balcony, I was being shoved into the mud by my abusive foster father in a dark alley. I watched from the shadows as Kenan stepped into his luxury car, looking right through me with nothing but cold distaste. To him, I was just "street trash" cluttering the sidewalk, while the imposter was the "angel" who had stabilized his heart.
The injustice felt like a physical weight. I had quieted the noise in his brain and kept him from the brink of death, yet I was the one facing eviction and hunger. I didn't understand how he could be a genius and still be so blind to the truth, rewarding a thief while I rotted in the basement.
Everything reached a breaking point when Tiffany forced me to sneak into his penthouse to help her maintain the lie. But Kenan returned from Tokyo early, finding me on the terrace with his military-grade protection dog. The beast that had tried to bite Tiffany was now resting its head in my lap, protecting me from its own master.
Kenan dropped his briefcase, his eyes locking onto mine as the fragmented memories of the storm finally clicked into place.
"You," he whispered.
9.0
Velma spent ten years as Dylan's wife, enduring his mother's cruelty and constant reminders that she was barren-an orphan who didn't deserve him. When she finally became pregnant after a decade of trying, everything fell apart.
Forced to sign divorce papers, heartbroken and pregnant, Velma disappeared.
Five years later, she returned as the world's most famous artist. By her side: Theron, a patient and wealthy man who helped her rebuild her life, and the son Dylan never knew existed.
She came back for an art exhibition, but fate forced her to work at Dylan's fashion company.
The moment Dylan saw her, everything changed. She was no longer the quiet, broken woman he'd divorced. She was confident, powerful, radiant-and married to another man.
Dylan groveled. He begged. He humbled himself in ways he never imagined, willing to do anything to reclaim the wife he'd lost for a second chance.
But Velma was no longer the woman who lived in anyone's shadow.
Will she forgive the man who broke her heart? Choose the man who rebuilt her? Or rewrite the rules and have them both?
Click to find out... This is a why choose when she can have both book.
8.4
For three years, Aletha sold her soul to her adoptive family, enduring a toxic, loveless marriage to Wall Street tyrant Kristopher.
But the illusion shattered when Kristopher brought his crying mistress into Aletha's ER.
He violently shoved Aletha into a metal cart just because she applied standard medical pressure to the mistress's minor scratch.
"If you ever handle her like that again, I will have your medical license revoked."
The nightmare quickly escalated. Kristopher froze Aletha's bank cards, publicly humiliated her, and forced her to hand over a priceless gown to his mistress.
When he was injured in a car crash protecting the mistress, Aletha flawlessly stitched his hand back together.
In return, he dragged her to a freezing warehouse at 3 AM to illegally save the mistress's criminal brother, only to abandon Aletha alone in the dangerous streets of Brooklyn.
Her adoptive parents didn't care if she lived or died. They only called to scream at her, demanding she get on her knees and beg Kristopher to restore their company's funding.
Staring at her bruised reflection, Aletha felt entirely hollowed out. She couldn't understand why her absolute submission only bought her betrayal and abuse from everyone she called family.
But as the tears dried, the fear that had controlled her evaporated, replaced by cold steel.
She opened her hidden wall safe and pulled out the documents proving she was "Lan," the world's most sought-after millionaire designer.
Aletha shredded her family's contract, put on a sharp black power suit, and headed to her husband's company.
This time, she wasn't going to beg.
9.0
I was a wolfless Omega, forced into a humiliating contract with Alpha Declan just to keep my mother's life support running.
Four years ago, he publicly rejected me as his Fated Mate, treating me like a shameful secret.
But one night, I unlocked his tablet and discovered the sickening truth.
He already had a "Chosen Mate," Karly, and a secret daughter named Ava.
While I was fed gray nutrient paste like a stray dog, he was parading them around as his perfect family.
He even moved them into the master suite and tossed out the last wooden toy belonging to my dead son.
Worse, I found out my own stepbrother was Karly's spy, helping them keep me in the dark.
The week I was hemorrhaging in the hospital, terrified of losing my baby, Declan wasn't fighting a border war. He was buying Karly diamonds in Paris.
The week my mother suffered a massive stroke, he abandoned her to take his secret daughter skiing.
I was entirely alone, a convenient shield for his lies.
But the absolute betrayal burned away my lingering grief, leaving behind a freezing, unbreakable clarity.
I didn't just want a divorce anymore; I wanted to burn their entire world to ash.
So, I slipped a forged termination agreement into his stack of Pack contracts.
Blinded by his own arrogance, the Alpha signed my freedom without even looking.
Holding the legal key to my cage and a folder full of his treacherous secrets, I sped out of the manor and dialed an encrypted number.
"It's time. Unleash hell."
9.5
"Yes, you have to. The mate bond deserves that respect in the least. If you want to reject me, do it looking me in my eyes." I had no idea how he moved so fast - probably courtesy of his Alpha abilities - but he stood before me.
His fingers lifted my chin so my eyes could meet his gaze. "Reject me by looking me in the eye." His eyes searched my face.
I shook my head as I struggled to hold back tears.
He pinned me on both sides, my eyes widened in slight fear when I saw the frustration and anger. "Reject this!" He growled before slamming his lips into mine.
Scarlett Melton was moved from her old pack by her stepfather who moved to Stone Shadow pack to find the family he abandoned a long time ago. Being a weak Omega with a health condition who has been bullied, abused and insulted all her life, she does not expect to be mated to the first son of the most powerful Alpha who's also her stepsister's brother-in-law.
She is happy about the bond but her manipulative stepfather has other plans and now, she has to give Baron Salvatore a good reason why she rejected their mate bond even when her heart and eyes are saying otherwise.