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CHAPTER 58: SAVED?
Last Updated:
2025-07-03 22:56:37
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Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 76: HALF BROTHER?
TRISTAN'S POVThe first tendrils of dawn, pale and tentative, were just beginning to filter through the heavy drapes, painting the luxurious master bedroom in shades of muted grey. My eyes fluttered open, blinking against the lingering haze of sleep, but even before I fully registered the light, I registered the empty space beside me. A familiar, almost comforting ache settled in my chest. Giovanni wasn’t there.A smile, goofy and unbidden, stretched across my face. He was probably already downstairs, his ritualistic cup of rich, black coffee clutched in one of those strong hands I knew so intimately. My heart gave a familiar flutter. It was a secret, the depth of my feelings for him. A love I hadn’t dared utter, hadn't even truly acknowledged to myself until recently, but one that pulsed beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. I knew Giovanni gravitated towards a certain… intensity in me, the aggressive streak he sometimes provoked, the thrill of the chase, the push and pull of our
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 75: DADDY?
GIOVANNI'S POVThe first rays of dawn, pale and tentative, dared to pierce through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a faint, anemic light across my bedroom. I stirred, a profound sense of satisfaction blooming in my chest. Beside me, Tristan lay, a masterpiece of slumber, his breath soft and even against the crisp sheets. His skin, a canvas of pale alabaster, was artfully marred by the vivid hickeys I’d left during the night—bruises of ownership, declarations of my claim. Each purple blotch, each bruised whisper on his collarbone, neck, and inner thigh, was a testament to the ruthlessness I’d unleashed. I’d fucked him senseless, driving into him with a primal need to bury myself so deep he’d forget his own name, remember only mine. He was mine. Every trembling moan, every gasp of my name, had been a victory cry in the silent war we waged.It was hard, excruciatingly hard, to refrain myself from putting my morning wood on Tristan's hole once more. The urge to wake him, to delve bac
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 74: NEVER LETTING YOU GO
TRISTAN'S POV The air in Giovanni’s mansion was thick with tension, the kind that clung to your skin like a second layer of sweat. Giovanni, his presence overwhelming, his jealousy a tangible thing that seemed to choke the air from my lungs. I knew Giovanni. I knew how he could be when his possessiveness took hold. And yet, there was a part of me that thrived on it, that craved the intensity of his obsession.“Tristan,” he said, his voice deceptively soft as he closed the distance between us. “You’re mine. And I’m never letting you go.”His words sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts fear and desire. His body pressing into mine, his strength undeniable. His breath was hot against my ear, his lips brushing my skin as he spoke.“Giovanni—” I tried again, but he silenced me with a kiss, rough and demanding, his lips crushing mine. It wasn’t tender, it wasn’t gentle—it was a claim, a reminder of who I belonged to. His tongue thrust into my mouth, dominating, and I couldn’t help but r
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 73: I DON'T SHARE
GIOVANNI'S POV I strode towards my bedroom, the weight of Tristan’s body slung over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His sudden obedience caught me off guard—I’d expected him to squirm, to fight, to spew some clever excuse for his transgressions. But no, he hung limp, his head lolling against my back, arms dangling like dead weight. I smirked, knowing full well this wasn’t genuine submission. Tristan was cunning, always had been. He knew he’d crossed lines, and now he was feigning compliance, hoping to smooth things over. Little did he know, his mistakes were about to become my playground.The memory of walking in on him and Anastasia still burned in my mind. My sister, cornering him in the closet, her lips inches from his while Tristan is holding her wrist. Tristan, topless, a towel barely clinging to his waist, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. The scene had ignited a fire in me... a possessive, jealous heat that hadn’t cooled since. I yanked Anastasia
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 72: I MISUNDERSTOOD
TRISTAN'S POVThe cool air of my room seemed to cling to my skin, a stark contrast to the boiling chaos within me. I stood rooted, water still dripping from my hair onto the tiled floor, forming dark, expanding puddles. My chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, the towel haphazardly wrapped around my waist doing little to ground me. Everything had happened so fast, a blur of motion and raw, guttural emotion, and now I was left to sift through the wreckage in my mind.Giovanni’s words, sharp and laced with a terrifying promise, spun in a relentless loop in my ears: “You better go back to my room,” he’d said, his voice a low, menacing growl, a promise of retribution. “I will deal with you later.”Even now, minutes later, the phantom pressure of his gaze on me, the way his eyes had narrowed, the subtle clenching of his jaw – it all painted a very clear picture. Giovanni was furious. The anger had been palpable, a tangible force that had filled the hallway and seeped into my very
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 71: HER IN HIS ROOM
GIOVANNI'S POVThe heavy oak door thudded shut behind her, a perfectly orchestrated sound that was less closing and more a declaration. She paused, her eyes, the same piercing grey as mine, sweeping over the opulent foyer – the gleaming marble, the abstract art on the walls, the crystal chandelier that dripped like frozen rain. Anastasia, my younger sister, was a force of nature dressed in designer silk, and her arrival always promised a certain degree of disruption.“Still living in this mausoleum, Giovanni?” she purred, her voice a low, teasing melodic hum that grated on my nerves. “I thought you’d have at least updated the decor. It screams ‘old money trying too hard’.”I merely raised an eyebrow, a flicker of irritation already tightening my jaw. “Welcome, Anastasia,” I said, my tone clipped, devoid of warmth. “Did your flight not drain the usual venom from your tongue?”She laughed, a bright, crystalline sound that always drew attention. Anton, my perpetually stoic butler, appea
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