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Leaving For Milan
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2025-11-01 16:39:35The morning sunlight spilled unevenly across the sleek agency headquarters. Jay sat at the end of a long conference table, scrolling through the digital files projected on the big screen. He barely registered the hum of conversation around him, voices blending into white noise. Mission details, updates, protocols — none of it mattered right now.
“Jay! Jay!”
The voice was sharp enough to yank him from his daze. He lifted his head, blinking. “Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at the director’s assistant standing impatiently by the door.
“You’re the one for this,” the assistant said firmly, tapping a document. “You’re leaving. Today.”
Jay’s hand froze on the table. “Me?”
“Yes. You’re the best we’ve got,” another agent added, nodding toward the others around the table. “Jay will handle it.”
Jay exhaled sharply, resting both hands on the polished surface. He swallowed. “Alright. I’ll go.”
The meeting wrapped up, and as Jay walked into the hall, two familiar arms draped around his shoulders — Kim on the left, Alex on the right.
“Drinks tonight,” Kim suggested with a teasing grin.
“Good idea,” Alex added, smirking.
Jay shrugged them off, muttering, “No, I’m not coming.”
They weren’t about to let him off that easily. By the time they reached the small bar near headquarters, a cold pint of beer was placed in front of him. Jay downed it in one gulp, slamming the glass on the counter. “That’s not fair! Me? Why me?”
Kim leaned casually against the bar. “Because you’re the good one,” she said, eyes glinting.
Alex, chewing on a snack, tilted his head mischievously. “And because you’re the one who never says no.”
Jay gave him a blank stare. “Date someone? I… I don’t have anyone.”
Alex laughed, nudging him playfully. “Are you sure? We could fix that.”
Kim smacked Alex lightly on the back of the head. “Stop teasing him!”
Jay sighed, leaning his forehead onto the table. For a moment, he imagined his sister, his quiet life at home, a world where he didn’t have to be the perfect agent. He pushed the thoughts away and reached for his beer again. “Yeah… fine, I’ll drink.”
“Don’t overdo it,” Kim warned, smirking.
“I’m fine,” Jay muttered, though his fingers tightened around the glass.
By the end of the night, they piled into a taxi, laughing and teasing each other along the way. Jay let himself be pulled along, despite protesting, until they arrived at Kim’s apartment. Alex vanished into the bathroom, muttering something about “surviving the night,” while Kim flopped onto the bed with a sigh. Jay sank onto the sofa, exhausted, letting the events of the day wash over him.
Morning came too quickly. Sunlight painted the room gold as Jay opened his eyes. Alex and Kim were still asleep, tangled in blankets. Jay stretched, sitting up. “Wake up. We have work,” he muttered, shaking his head with a small smile.
They dressed, perfectly suited, and left for the agency headquarters. Walking through the building, Jay noticed the ordinary lives behind the agents — men and women with families waiting at home, secrets they would never share. Jay’s own life was built entirely on secrecy.
He reached the director’s office, heart already tightening. “May I come in?” he asked.
“Jay!” the older man smiled warmly. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Jay replied, keeping his tone neutral.
“You’ve seen the report?” the director asked, eyes twinkling. “You don’t want to do this, do you?”
Jay’s mouth tightened. “Yeah… I don’t.”
“But you have to,” the director said firmly, placing a thick folder on the desk. “You’re leaving for Italy. Your name stays Jay. You’re the perfect person for this mission.”
Jay exhaled slowly and accepted the documents. He glanced at the file — photos, notes, mafia profiles. One name stood out: Rafael “Rafe” Bianchi. The mafia boss of Milan, infamous for his ruthlessness, his dominance, and… apparently, his taste in men.
The assistant appeared with a small suitcase. “Your things are here. And you’ll need to change your appearance for the mission,” she said.
Jay opened the room to find a sleek, modern suit laid out on the bed. It looked more like a model’s outfit than a spy’s disguise. Jay froze. His eyes scanned the documents again — Rafe liked handsome, sharp-featured men. Jay groaned inwardly. Of course… they all want models.
He changed quickly, straightening the jacket, running his fingers through his jet-black hair, and catching his reflection. Sharp, cold, dominant — someone who could sit on a mafia boss’s radar without being noticed… or maybe noticed in exactly the right way.
Grabbing the documents and the suitcase, Jay left for Italy, feeling the familiar mix of dread and excitement swirl in his chest. Every step toward the plane, every thought of Milan, brought one question forward: What kind of man is Rafael Bianchi — and am I ready to face him?
As he boarded, Jay couldn’t help the shiver of anticipation. This wasn’t just another mission. This was a game of dominance, secrecy, and forbidden attraction. And somehow, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like losing.
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Marked by the Mafia Boss [BL] Your first lesson.
The silence that settled after their agreement was not the empty void of before. It was a charged, humming quiet, like the moment before a lightning strike. The dynamic in the room had irrevocably shifted. Jay was no longer a captive audience. He was a co-conspirator, and the air thrummed with the terrifying potential of their alliance.Rafe moved to a sleek, modern bar cart, the crystal decanters catching the city lights. He poured two fingers of a deep amber whiskey into a fresh glass and held it out to Jay. It was not a request, but a ritual. The first act of their partnership.Jay hesitated for only a second before crossing the room and taking the glass. His fingers brushed against Rafe’s. The contact was brief, electric. It was no longer the violating touch of a captor, but the deliberate contact of a partner. Acknowledged. Accepted.“To the destruction of our enemies,” Rafe said, his voice a low, resonant vibration. He raised his own glass.Jay met his gaze, the cold fire in his
Marked by the Mafia Boss [BL] I want alignment.
The air in Rafe’s suite was different now. Before, it had been thick with threat and coercion. Now, it crackled with a new, dangerous potential. Jay stood just inside the doorway, no longer a prisoner tentatively crossing a threshold, but a man entering a negotiation. The transformation was palpable. The slump of defeat was gone from his shoulders, replaced by a straight-backed readiness. The fear in his eyes had been burned away, leaving behind a cool, assessing clarity.Rafe watched him, a connoisseur appreciating a fundamental shift in a masterpiece. He gestured with his glass towards a pair of low-slung leather chairs positioned before the dark, empty fireplace. “Then talk.”Jay didn’t move to sit. He remained standing, a deliberate power play. “First, a question. Why tell me? You had leverage. You had me isolated, terrified, and ready to break. You could have used Park’s secret to manipulate me indefinitely. Why give me that weapon?”A faint, approving smile touched Rafe’s lips.
Marked by the Mafia Boss [BL] Just part of the show.
The silence after Rafe’s exit was a physical entity, a heavy, suffocating blanket that smothered the air in the room. Jay did not move from the armchair. He was a statue carved from shock and grief, his hands still gripping the armrests as if they were the only solid things in a universe that had just been unmade.It's a performance, Jae-Hyun-ah. Just part of the show.His mother’s voice, a ghost from a buried past, echoed in the new, horrifying context Rafe had provided. The quiet desperation in her tone, the resigned sadness he had been too young to comprehend—it hadn’t been about national security. It had been about a broken heart. It had been about her husband’s love for another man.And Director Park… the stern, imposing figure who had been his anchor in the storm of his adolescence… he hadn’t been a savior. He had been a collector. A curator of the remnants of the man he had loved. Jay’s entire life—the grueling training, the blind loyalty, the suppression of his own dynamic, th
Marked by the Mafia Boss [BL] I chose that life.
The confrontation with Lorenzo had left a residue of filth on Jay’s skin that no shower could wash away. He stood under the scalding water until his skin was raw and pink, but the memory of that obsessive touch, the violating whisper, remained etched into his nerves. When he emerged, wrapped in a thick hotel robe, the suite felt different. It was no longer just a prison; it was the eye of a hurricane, a temporary calm between the violent forces of the two Bianchi brothers.He found Rafe not in the bedroom, but in the main living area of the suite, standing by the window with a glass of water. He had changed into dark, casual trousers and a simple black sweater, the informal attire making him seem both more approachable and more terrifyingly real. He didn't turn as Jay entered, but his reflection in the dark glass watched him."Your heart is still racing," Rafe stated, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. "You are safe now.""Safe?" Jay's laugh was brittle. "I'm in a room with a m
Marked by the Mafia Boss [BL] His obsession is a problem.
The encounter with Rafe had left Jay feeling flayed open, his nerves scraped raw and exposed to the air. The proposition—no, the ultimatum—echoed in the silent room, a seismic shift in the landscape of his life. Mate. The word was a brand, searing away his past and etching a terrifying future in its place. He had retreated to his room, the adrenaline receding to leave a hollow, trembling exhaustion in its wake. He needed a moment. A single, clear moment to think, to plan, to find a crack in the impossible situation he was in.He never got it.The lock on his suite door clicked with a soft, final sound that was entirely too familiar. Jay’s head snapped up from where he sat on the edge of his bed, his heart instantly hammering against his ribs. It wasn't Rafe. The energy was different. Lighter, more fluid, and infinitely more volatile.Lorenzo Bianchi slipped inside as if he owned the space, closing the door behind him with a quiet push. He was, once again, a vision of carefully constru
Marked by the Mafia Boss [BL] That is the priority.
The atmosphere in Rafe's penthouse office was a stark contrast to the charged intimacy of the hotel suite. Here, the air was cold, sterile, and smelled of old money and new danger. Floor-to-ceiling windows presented a sprawling, indifferent view of Milan, a chessboard for the men who stood within.Rafe stood by the window, his back to the room, a crystal glass of neat whiskey in his hand. The quiet click of the door announced the arrival he’d been expecting."Brother," a voice, bright and sharp as a new razor, cut through the silence.Rafe didn't turn. "Lorenzo."Lorenzo Bianchi strode into the room, a whirlwind of chaotic energy contained within an impeccably tailored maroon suit. He threw himself into a large leather armchair, propping his polished shoes on the edge of Rafe's obsidian desk—a deliberate act of provocation."I hear you've been collecting pets," Lorenzo said, a wide, teasing grin on his face. "And using my good name to do it. I'm touched, really. Is he as fun as he loo
