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CHAPTER 38: BACK TO REALITY
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2025-05-28 23:53:05
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Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 39: OUR CRAVINGS
TRISTAN'S POVI knelt on the cold stone floor, my breath coming in shallow gasps. Giovanni loomed above me, his shadow casting a dark silhouette against the flickering light. His presence was commanding, his scent... a mix of leather and something distinctly masculine—filled my nostrils. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, heavy and unrelenting. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation coursing through my veins.A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, transforming his features, making him even more breathtakingly dangerous. He pushed me back, gently but firmly, until I was lying flat on the bed, my head resting on the soft pillow.With deliberate slowness, he began to unbutton his shirt, his movements languid and teasing. My gaze followed his hands, mesmerized by the way his fingers moved, the way the fabric parted to reveal glimpses of tanned skin and sculpted muscle.He shrugged out of the shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 38: BACK TO REALITY
TRISTAN'S POVI can’t believe it. Giovanni. Here. In Oakhaven. I actually thought I’d gotten away. A whole week. Seven days of breathing without the weight of his gaze, the fear of his touch. Seven sunsets that weren’t painted with the dread of dawn. And now, here he is.He’s standing in my doorway, a dark silhouette against the fading light of the afternoon. He looks… immaculate. Like he’s stepped straight out of a magazine, not tracked me down to this forgotten corner of the world."Tristan," he says, the name a silken threat rolling off his tongue. "I've found you."Panic claws at my throat. I can’t let him take me back. Back to the estate. Back to that gilded cage. I dig my heels into the worn floorboards.“Get out, Giovanni. I don't want to go back.”He tries to pull me, his grip surprisingly strong. I resist, pulling back with all my might. "Let me go! I’m not yours!"Giovanni stops, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his face. “Is that so, Tristan? It looks like you want
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 37: HE FOUND ME!
TRISTAN'S POV My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Four days. It had been four glorious, peaceful days since I'd escaped Giovanni’s suffocating grip. Seven days since I’d tasted freedom, real freedom, here in Oakhaven. Seven days of breathing air that didn’t feel heavy with expectation and fear.I’d settled into a routine with Roman and Aida, a kind, elderly couple who’d lost their only child twenty-five years ago. Their son had gone missing and never been found, leaving a gaping hole in their lives. They’d taken me in, not as a tenant, but as… something more. Family, maybe. I dared to let myself hope.This morning had been perfect, almost idyllic. I’d been sitting at their small, wooden dining table, devouring Aida’s pancakes.“Hmmmm… this breakfast is really the best,” I mumbled, the sweetness dissolving on my tongue. It was true. Even simple things tasted better here, away from Giovanni’s sterile, controlled world.Aida chuckled, her eyes crinkling
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 36: HIS FALSE FREEDOM
GIOVANNI'S POV The thrill was a live wire under my skin. Tristan. Found. The word echoed in my head, a mantra I hadn't dared to whisper aloud for so long. Twelve hours. That's all it took. Twelve hours to unravel his painstakingly crafted escape, a testament to both his cunning and my own… unwavering dedication.I practically vibrated with pent-up energy, pacing the length of my office like a caged predator. The city lights blurred beyond the panoramic window, meaningless compared to the pinpoint on the map now burned into my memory: Oakhaven. A backwater town, nestled deep in the countryside. Picturesque, no doubt. And utterly, irrevocably, doomed.I snatched the folder from my desk, the crisp paper whispering promises of reunion. Oakhaven… He’d chosen well, I’ll give him that. Remote, unassuming, the kind of place you’d drive through without a second glance. If it weren't me searching, it might have worked.A grudging respect simmered within me. He'd been resourceful, I'll grant hi
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 35: HE'S FOUND
GIOVANNI'S POV The rage still simmered beneath my skin, a burning acid eating away at my patience. Tristan. That slippery, beautiful, infuriating boy had managed to slip through my fingers. While I was busy cleaning up Feng Chu's mess... the spineless bastard siding with the Kuznetsovs, our rivals, Tristan was plotting his escape. I had dreamt of returning home, of finally claiming him, branding him mine in the most visceral way possible. I had envisioned a night, no, a dawn, filled with his cries, his submission. Now, thanks to Cole's weakness, his pathetic infatuation, I had to endure this… delay.Cole, and every guard on duty that night, were already reaping the consequences. Exile to Montevideo, essentially a forgotten outpost in our network. A slow, agonizing descent into irrelevance. They would learn the price of disobedience, the cost of letting my possessions slip away.Now, I sat in my office, the leather of my chair creaking under my restless movements. Impatience gnawed at
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 34: FINALLY FREEDOM?
TRISTAN'S POVThe gravel crunched under my worn-out boots as I stepped off the fifth bus, a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my gut. Twelve hours. It had been twelve hours since I slipped through Giovanni's fingers, twelve hours of looking over my shoulder, of swallowing down the bile of guilt and fear. Guilt for Cole, the poor bastard who’d fallen for my desperate act, and fear of the storm Giovanni would unleash when he discovered I was gone.Guilt gnawed at me. Cole. Damn him and his trusting eyes. "Just a little closer," I'd purred, and the fool had fallen right into my lap. I pictured his face, slack and unconscious, tied to the ridiculously opulent bed. Giovanni would skin him alive, metaphorically, maybe literally. Shoving the image away, I repeated my mantra: Survival. Freedom. Me.I had to keep moving, keep changing routes. Airports were out of the question. Too easy to track. Instead, I was bouncing between these backwater bus lines, a ghost trying to disappear into th
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