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CHAPTER 65: CLAIMING HIS POSSESSION
Last Updated:
2025-07-14 22:36:15
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Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 65: CLAIMING HIS POSSESSION
GIOVANNI'S POVThe sterile scent of disinfectant, usually a comforting backdrop in my world, did little to calm the fire raging in my gut. My eyes, narrowed to slits, were fixed on the flimsy partition curtain, the only thing separating me from the scene that was churning my stomach. Just moments ago, I’d savored a fleeting, venomous triumph, watching Tristan’s jaw tighten as Martina, with her practiced, overly solicitous touch, tended to my own wound. It had been a small, petty victory, a confirmation that I wasn't the only one who felt a sharp, possessive pang when Tristan’s attention drifted. But that triumph had dissolved, vanished like smoke, the instant Dmitri’s voice, smooth as aged whiskey, cut through the quiet hum of the medical wing of the estate.“You’re a doctor, right? Can you patch me instead?” Dmitri had purred, and my blood had turned to ice.Martina, already hovering, had instinctively moved forward, a feigned concern etched on her face. Trying to offer help but Dmi
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 64: JEALOUS VS JEALOUS
GIOVANNI'S POVThe jarring jolt of the Cadillac hitting the gravel drive was my cue. I let out a groan, a little too loud, a little too theatrical, clutching my side as if the bullet had just found my heart instead of a good six inches from it. My vision blurred, not from pain, but from the effort of feigning near-unconsciousness. I’d taken worse hits than this; one grazed rib and a flesh wound in the shoulder were hardly vital. But Tristan was here, and I had an audience."Giovanni!" I heard Tristan's voice, laced with genuine panic. Good. That was the reaction I craved. Dmitri, ever the loyal but somewhat clumsy brute, fumbled with the door as Tristan already had his arm under my shoulder, easing me out.Tristan barked at Dmitri, his voice tight with alarm. Dmitri, looking like a giant worried puppy, tried his best to be gentle as they half-carried, half-dragged me into the mansion. My eyes were slits, barely open, but enough to catch Tristan’s frantic gaze d
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 63: MARTINA NYUKALOV
TRISTAN'S POVThe digital clock on my nightstand glowed an unhelpful 03:17. I squeezed my eyes shut, then snapped them open again. Sleep, for some inexplicable reason, was a phantom limb tonight. I could feel its absence keenly, a vacant ache in my very bones. I tossed, punching my pillow into a shapeless lump, then turned, my gaze snagging on the heavy oak door of my quarters. A deep, unsettling current ran beneath my skin, a prickle of wrongness I couldn’t quite decipher. It was as if I was consciously, foolishly, waiting for that door to swing open, for Giovanni to appear, a silent sentinel against the night’s disquiet.A groan escaped me, a sound of self-loathing. This was it, wasn’t it? The insidious creep of dependence. I, Tristan Hayes, a man who had sweated through years of medical school, topped my class, and dreamed of a bustling hospital in the capital, was now reduced to… this. A kept man, essentially, trapped in Giovanni’s opulent estate, relying on his whims, his securi
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 62: CHAOS IN CASINO
GIOVANNI'S POVThe rumble of the armored convoy was the only symphony I ever truly trusted. It was a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the very core of my being, a constant reminder of the power I commanded, the lengths I went to maintain it. Tonight, that symphony was playing its most crucial note. Beside me, Dmitri, ever vigilant, scanned the dark, winding roads, his posture rigid, a silent sentinel. We were on our way to the meeting place, a rendezvous with the overseas client, a man known only as 'The Engineer,' and the stakes had never been higher.Months. Months of meticulous planning, of delicate negotiations, of weaving a web of deceit and promises across continents. This wasn’t just another deal. This was a coup, a turning point. We were acquiring something invaluable, something that would solidify the Sokolov family’s dominion over the city’s underworld and beyond. An exclusive formula for an explosive, potent enough to rewrite the rules of engagement in my chaotic
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 61: DYNAMICS CHANGE
TRISTAN'S POVThree months. Three months since my world had shrunk to the gilded cage of Giovanni Sokolov’s estate, since the raw terror of Vlad’s abduction had faded into a dull ache, replaced by… something else entirely. It felt like a lifetime and a blink all at once, each day blurring into the next, marked by the escalating intensity of our strange, volatile dance.He still kept me under surveillance, 24/7. After Vlad, it was almost obsessive. Hidden cameras I occasionally spotted, the silent, omnipresent guards who seemed to materialize out of thin air, and Giovanni himself, his eyes piercing through me whenever he so much as sensed I might be out of his sight for too long. It should have felt more like a prison, and God knows I still harbored the resentment of a man who’d lost his freedom, but… something had shifted.My snark, once my only weapon, had softened at the edges, less a blade and more of a dull butter knife. I still deployed it, of course. Couldn’t have Giovanni think
Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession CHAPTER 60: NEW NORMAL
GIOVANNI'S POV Weeks had stretched into months since I’d dragged Tristan from Vlad’s clutches, a ghost of a man with only a flicker of defiance left in his eyes. The memory still sent a cold shiver down my spine, a rare sensation for me. But now, it was as if an invisible reset button had been pressed. Vlad, that sniveling bastard, had vanished, scurrying away like the coward he was. Word on the street was he’d fled the country, probably holed up in some forgotten corner of the world, plotting his next move. Let him plot. I was ready. I always was. Yet, a different kind of normalcy had settled over my life, one I never anticipated. It revolved entirely around Tristan. My mornings started with the subtle creak of the door, then the scent of coffee brewing... always too perfect for my taste. It was the prelude to our daily ritual. “Still limping, caro?” I’d ask, leaning against the kitchen counter, a smirk playing on my lips as he poured his coffee. His back would stiffen. I’d watch h
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