My Sexy Sassy Boss
May Boston is a sassy, powerful woman who owns the biggest fashion agency in the city. Her perfectly controlled world is thrown into chaos when she crosses paths with Luca, a homeless man suffering from amnesia.
Out of pity, and curiosity, she lets him live with her. What she does not expect is to be bossed around in her own house, treated like a subordinate, and willingly doing everything he asks. Slowly, without realizing it, May falls deeply in love with him.
That turns out to be her greatest mistake.
Because before Luca lost his memory, he was the ruthless king of the largest Mafia group in Italy, Oliver de Luca
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Chapter 3
By morning, May was already exhausted.
Not physically...emotionally.
Luca had spent the night reminding her, subtly and not so subtly, that he was still injured. Anytime she snapped at him, anytime irritation sharpened her tone, he would tilt his head slightly and say, "I'm still sick," in a calm voice that somehow made her feel like the villain. It was infuriating. She was used to control, to authority, to people bending, not to a stranger with amnesia using his condition like leverage.
She barely slept again.
When she finally stepped out of her bedroom the next morning, hair loose, robe tied carelessly around her waist, she stopped short.
Luca stood by the entrance.
Not slouched. Not weak. Standing straight, arms loosely crossed, body relaxed like he belonged there. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows behind him, outlining his frame, catching in his hair, revealing angles she hadn't noticed before.
She stared.
For the first time since the accident, she really looked at him.
Unbelievably handsome wasn't even adequate. His features were sharp, deliberate, like they had been designed rather than inherited. His eyes, calm and piercing, watched her with an intensity that made her oddly aware of herself, of her bare feet on the floor, of the thin fabric clinging to her skin.
He looked...dangerous.
"You're awake," he said.
She cleared her throat. "What are you doing standing there like that?"
"Waiting," he replied easily.
"For what."
"For you."
Her irritation returned immediately. "Why."
"I need a bath," he said, tone flat. "And food."
She stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he continued, unbothered. "Prepare my bath, then find something for me to eat."
Her jaw tightened. "You are in my house."
"And I am injured," he said calmly. "Or did you forget."
She scoffed, turning away. "You're unbelievable."
Yet...she did it.
She ran the bath, hands moving sharply, muttering under her breath the entire time. No one had spoken to her like that in years. She was May Boston, CEO, feared and respected, not a personal assistant to an amnesiac stranger. And yet here she was, doing exactly what he asked, irritation burning hot beneath her skin.
She handed him a towel without looking at him. "Don't take long."
He took it from her fingers slowly, eyes never leaving her face. "Thank you."
The words shouldn't have unsettled her, but they did.
When she returned to the kitchen, reality hit her harder than expected.
She stopped in the doorway.
The kitchen was...empty.
Not stylishly minimalist, not intentionally sparse...just empty. A fridge with little more than bottled water and half-used condiments, cabinets holding plates she barely touched, a life built entirely around eating out and working late.
For the first time in years, she felt something close to embarrassment.
She searched anyway, opening drawers, cupboards, the fridge again as if food might magically appear. Eventually, she found a single pack of instant noodles, crushed at the edges.
Expired.
She stared at the date, sighed sharply, and tossed it into a pot.
It was the best she could do.
When Luca returned, freshly bathed, hair damp, shirt clinging slightly to his torso, she placed the bowl in front of him with more force than necessary. "Eat."
He sat, posture relaxed, and lifted the fork.
One bite.
That was all it took.
He spat it out instantly.
Her breath caught.
He lifted his gaze slowly, cold and piercing, eyes locking onto hers with a look so sharp it sent a chill straight down her spine. For a moment, she forgot he was injured, forgot he had amnesia, forgot everything except the instinctive warning screaming in her chest.
This man was not harmless.
"What is this," he asked quietly.
She swallowed. "Food."
"It's inedible."
"I don't cook," she snapped, trying to reclaim her ground. "Be grateful."
He leaned back slightly, studying her, expression unreadable. "You live like this."
"That's none of your business."
His gaze lingered a second longer, then he stood. "We're going out."
Her brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"
"I'm hungry," he said. "And I refuse to eat that."
She hesitated, then grabbed her keys sharply. "Fine."
The eatery was nearby, small but decent, the kind of place she never noticed until now. They sat, and immediately Luca took control, scanning the menu with quiet authority.
"I'll have the premium steak meal," he said. "Medium rare. Add the imported wine."
May blinked. "You know premium meals."
He looked at her. "Apparently."
"You have amnesia," she reminded him. "How do you know that."
He paused, genuinely thoughtful. "I don't know," he said slowly. "The words just came."
That unsettled her more than anything else.
Pete's call came while Luca was still eating.
May barely glanced at her phone before answering, irritation already simmering beneath her calm exterior. "What?"
There was a brief pause on the other end, the kind that warned her something had gone wrong. "I tried to clear your schedule like you asked," Pete said carefully, "but there's a situation."
May closed her eyes for a second. "Pete...define situation?"
"The top model," he replied. "The one we fought for months to sign."
Her jaw tightened instantly. "Serena Vale?"
"Yes," Pete said. "She just landed in Los Angeles and she's already at the agency. She's demanding to see you...now."
May exhaled slowly, irritation sharpening into something close to fury. Serena Vale was not someone you postponed, not someone you rescheduled, not someone you annoyed.
"I'm not dressed," May said flatly.
"I noticed," Pete replied. "She says if you don't show up, she walks."
May ended the call without another word.
She lifted her gaze...and froze.
Luca sat across from her, completely unbothered, eating like a man born into privilege, posture relaxed, movements precise, calm in a way that irritated her beyond reason. He hadn't heard the conversation, but his eyes met hers with quiet curiosity.
"Problem?" he asked.
She glared at him. "You."
He continued eating. "That's unfortunate."
She pushed her chair back sharply. "I have an emergency meeting."
He nodded once. "Good."
"You are the reason I'm not prepared," she snapped. "I stayed back because of you."
"And yet," he said mildly, "you don't look displeased."
She stood abruptly. "Finish eating. We're leaving."
"Where?" he asked.
She grabbed her bag, irritation written plainly on her face. "We're going to my company."
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7.9
Rose was so naive that she didn't know Jonah, her ex-fiancé, was cheating on her even before her wedding day. On the night before her wedding, she caught him cheating on her with the last person she would ever expect him to be with, Rebecca.
Out of anger and spite, she cursed at them and left, then went and got herself drunk and made out with a mafia don, who, oblivious to her, was her fiancé's stepbrother and his boss.
On the day of the wedding, she stormed in and canceled it, calling Jonah out. After the embarrassment, Jonah vowed to make her life miserable. She tried to get a job, but it was almost impossible because of the influence Jonah had.
So she went to the greatest mafia don that her friend Lucy recommended to her. When she went to ask for his help, the don turned out to be the mysterious man who had been showing interest in her, but she had kept declining. Unbeknownst to her, he was her ex-fiancé's boss and stepbrother.
She asked for his help, and he offered it, of course, but on one condition.that she would be his mistress !.
8.7
"You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down?
8.1
Warning 🔞
"So wet for the enemy", he taunted, scissoring inside me and stretching my walls.
I moaned, throwing my head back and riding his hand. When he withdrew his fingers, I moaned at the loss. Adrian took his fingers to his mouth and wiped off my juices.
Fuck!
_______
EROTICA COLLECTION!!!
Sinful Desires (Volume 1)
Ten dangerously addictive steamy romances that will leave you breathless.
From enemies to lovers, bodyguard protectors, CEO obsessions, mafia claims, and passionate vacation affair, Sinful Desires Volume 1 brings together ten standalone romances filled with steam and unforgettable Passion.
You'll meet...
A bodyguard who can't stay professional.
A CEO who risks his empire for an intern.
A mafia boss who softens only for one woman
A firefighter who turns healing into desire.
And more.
In the next collection, temptation becomes even more forbidden, desires become more dangerous, and love crosses lines it was never supposed to touch.
If you thought Volume 1 was sinful, you're not ready for what comes next so get ready because the sins only grow darker from here...
Stay tuned for Sinful Desires (Volume 2)
8.0
For ten years, I played the safe, "wolfless" emotional support animal for my werewolf best friend, Finn, secretly loving him while he chased his toxic ex.
When she got engaged to a rival Alpha, he dragged me across the country to crash the mating ceremony, only to abandon me at the airport.
His terrifying older brother, Alpha Knox, picked me up instead and shattered my world with one sentence: Finn had always known how I felt, and he intentionally weaponized my devotion.
To prove how little I meant to him, Knox orchestrated a cruel test at a seedy Rogue club.
While I sat right next to Finn in a sticky booth, Knox sent over a stripper.
"You don't mind, right, Sloane? It's just a gift," Finn slurred.
Without hesitating, he let the stripper straddle him right in front of me, burying his face in her neck to chase away the pain of his ex.
A decade of my blind loyalty turned to ash in that smoke-filled room.
I hated my defective, wolfless biology, but I hated him more for treating me like a stray dog begging for scraps.
Why did I waste my entire youth protecting a male who didn't even see me as a woman?
Suffocating on shame and fury, I fled to the cramped club bathroom to hide.
*Click.*
The deadbolt slid into place, and the intoxicating scent of a violent thunderstorm and spent gunpowder swallowed me whole.
Alpha Knox Crawford stood against the locked door, his merciless eyes pinning me to the sink.
9.0
My father arranged a marriage for my half-sister, Emmalee, with Don Damian Griffith, the ruthless "King of New York." But Emmalee, in love with a penniless lawyer, refused and, weeping, pointed at me, the illegitimate daughter, offering me as the sacrifice.
My stepmother packed cheap plastic pearls and copper chains, and my father coldly told me to "bleed quietly" if the Don decided to cut me.
"Don't think you've won, Isabell," Emmalee hissed, handing me a shimmering emerald gown, the signature color of the Don's volatile mistress-a clear death trap. Why did my own family want me dead?
As the armored car pulled away, I dumped the green silk, put on a dress of pure ivory, and fastened our family's stolen midnight-blue sapphires around my neck. They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter, but I was walking into the lion's den with a hidden blade.
8.2
I died on a Tuesday.
It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father.
I was twenty years old.
He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him—my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit—watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant.
He chose her. He always chose her.
And then, I woke up.
Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for.
This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London—an exile disguised as a severance package—I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice.
He didn't know he was talking to a ghost.
He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal.
He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder.
That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry.
She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts.
So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie.
I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane.
But I will not be a victim.
This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter.
This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.