Claimed By The Mafia Boss

CHAPTER 1

ADRIEN 

“What the hell were you thinking?” my father roared, his voice rattling the expensive glassware lining the walls. “Another party? Another fucking scandal?”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the banister. “It was just a party, Dad. I didn’t exactly commit murder.”

“That’s not the goddamn point!” he barked, slamming his fist against the table. I didn’t even flinch. I was used to the theatrics by now. “You carry my name. Everything you do reflects on me. On this family!”

I scoffed. “Sorry if I’m not interested in playing perfect little heir like you want.”

“You’re irresponsible! You’re selfish! And you’re grounded!”

I blinked. Then laughed. “I’m twenty-one. You can’t ground me.”

“Watch me,” he snarled. “You so much as set a foot outside this house tonight, I’ll cut you off. No credit cards, no apartment, nothing.”

I clenched my jaw. “You think money's gonna keep me in line?”

“It always has before,” he sneered.

Rage simmered under my skin. I didn’t say another word. I spun on my heel, storming up the staircase two steps at a time. I slammed my bedroom door so hard the frame shook, locking it for good measure.

Fucking unbelievable.

I paced the room, heart pounding. I wasn’t some kid he could boss around anymore. I grabbed my phone, stared at the blinking notifications from my friends. Club night. Everyone was going.

I hesitated for half a second. Then I yanked open my closet.

He wanted me locked away like a fucking prisoner?

Not a chance.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in tight black jeans and a thin, low-cut shirt that practically screamed come touch me, I slipped out my window, dropping onto the manicured lawn below.

The city pulsed with life when I arrived at Velvet. Music pounded through the walls, bodies pressed close on the dance floor, the air thick with sweat and sex. I slid up to the bar, flashing a grin at the bartender.

“Vodka soda,” I ordered, tossing a bill onto the counter.

The second the drink touched my hand, someone slid into the space beside me. Close. Too close.

“Is that really all you’re drinking tonight?” a deep voice murmured, low and teasing.

I turned—and holy shit.

Tall. Dark hair. Strong jaw. A mouth made for sin. His suit clung to broad shoulders, expensive and perfectly tailored. His eyes—dark, unreadable—dragged over me like he was already undressing me.

I smirked. “Why? You offering something better?”

The stranger’s lips curved. “Depends what you’re thirsty for.”

“Depends what you’re offering,” I shot back, sipping my drink.

“Something stronger than that watered-down crap,” he said. His fingers brushed my wrist, deliberate, electric. “Or something a lot more fun.”

I leaned in, emboldened by the alcohol, by the anger still burning in my chest. “You talk a big game.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “I always deliver.”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider. “Big words.”

“Big everything,” he said, eyes glittering.

I laughed, breathless. “Prove it.”

His smile sharpened into something predatory. He grabbed my hand, his grip firm but not painful, and pulled me away from the bar without hesitation. My heart hammered against my ribs, excitement buzzing in my veins as he led me through the crowd, past grinding bodies and spilled drinks, straight into a dim hallway.

“Where are we—?”

He shoved open a bathroom door, dragged me inside, and before I could breathe, he had me pressed against the cool tile wall.

“You sure you want this, pretty boy?” he murmured, so close his breath ghosted over my lips.

I stared at him—this dangerous, gorgeous stranger—and felt something twist deliciously deep inside me.

“Fuck yes,” I whispered.

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed onto mine, hungry, devouring. I kissed him back just as hard, nipping at his bottom lip, hands fisting in his shirt. He groaned into my mouth, one hand sliding down to cup my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he muttered against my neck, licking a hot, wet stripe up to my jaw.

“You don’t even know me,” I breathed, grinding against him shamelessly.

“Don’t need to,” he growled. “All I need’s right here.”

He spun me around, pressing me face-first into the wall. His hands roamed over me, greedy, possessive, tugging at my waistband.

“Gonna make you forget your own name,” he promised, voice dark and rough.

“Big talk again,” I taunted breathlessly, my hips pushing back against him.

He chuckled. “You’ll be begging in five minutes.”

I heard the sound of a belt unbuckling, the faint rip of a condom wrapper. 

He slicked his fingers with something from his pocket—thank god—and slid one between my cheeks, circling, teasing. I bit back a whimper.

“Relax, baby. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle.

He worked me open quickly but thoroughly, his fingers skilled, patient but demanding. By the time he lined up behind me, I was practically shaking.

“You ready?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.

“Fuck me,” I hissed, pushing back shamelessly. “Now.”

He didn’t make me ask twice.

The stretch burned in the best way, stealing the air from my lungs. He cursed under his breath, gripping my hips tight enough to bruise.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, snapping his hips forward once, twice, until he was buried to the hilt.

I moaned, forehead pressed to the wall, pleasure sparking through every nerve ending.

He set a brutal rhythm, fucking into me like he owned me, like he had every right. And maybe he did. Maybe I wanted him to. His hand slid around to fist my cock, jerking me in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Taking it so good. Fucking made for this.”

“Harder,” I begged, shameless, desperate.

He obliged, slamming into me harder, faster. My knees nearly buckled. I cried out, the sound muffled against my arm.

“Who’s fucking you like you need, huh?” he gritted out. “Who’s making you feel this good?”

“You are,” I gasped.

“Say it.”

“You—fuck—you are—”

Stars exploded behind my eyes as I came, shaking apart in his hand. He cursed again, losing rhythm, and with a few more hard thrusts, he spilled inside the condom with a low, wrecked groan.

We stayed there for a second, breathing hard, his weight heavy against my back.

Finally, he pulled out, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash. He tucked himself back into his pants, adjusting his shirt like nothing had happened.

I turned to face him, still dazed.

He smirked. “Told you I deliver.”

I huffed a shaky laugh. “Yeah. No complaints.”

He stepped closer, brushing his knuckles down my jaw.

“Name?” he asked casually.

I blinked. “Adrien.”

His mouth twitched.

“See you around, Adrien.”

And just like that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving me wrecked, panting, and very aware that I'd just made the worst—and best—mistake of my life.

I stumbled out of the bathroom, my legs barely working right, my skin buzzing like I’d been struck by lightning.

I leaned against the wall for a second, trying to catch my breath, a stupid, blissed-out smile curling my lips.

Holy fuck.

Whoever he was…he knew exactly what he was doing.

I ran a hand through my hair, still feeling the ghost of his touch on my skin. 

God, even thinking about it made me want to turn right back around and drag him into another dark corner.

I pushed off the wall, weaving through the crowd, heading for the exit. 

“Holy shit,” I mumbled under my breath, laughing to myself. “Best fucking mistake ever.”

I barely made it two steps before something hard cracked against the back of my head.

Pain exploded through my skull.

The floor rushed up to meet me.

The last thing I saw before everything faded to black was a pair of polished black boots stepping over my crumpled body.