Owned by the Mafia Billionaire (A MxM erotica novel)

Chapter One

Micah’s POV

“Shit… no, no, no—” I cursed silently under my breath. “Just a few seconds more.”

My fingers flew across the key, code blurring into gibberish as alarms screamed inside my headset. I’d been in the system for less than ninety seconds, and I was supposed to be out in sixty.

The warehouse was dead silent, except for the soft hum of my laptop and the occasional drip of water echoing from the pipes overhead. Crouched behind a rusted stack of crates, bathed in the blue glow of my screen, I typed fast, adrenaline surging like a live wire under my skin.

This wasn’t my cleanest job. Hell, it wasn’t even close. But I didn’t have the luxury of clean anymore.

My rent was three months overdue, debt collectors were circling like vultures, and the hospital bills for Mom’s chemo were a noose around my neck. I needed this money.

The cartel contact, a slimy bastard named Rico, had promised me fifteen grand for access to a shipping manifest. Just some “private importer’s” data, he’d said. Easy in, easy out.

Yeah. Right. My gut had screamed at me to walk away the second I saw how flimsy the firewall was. Too vulnerable for anything legit. But walking away wasn’t an option, not when Rico’s goons would carve my name into a bullet if I bailed. And not when I was too broke to say no.

“Come on, baby,” I whispered, decrypting the last security layer. “Just show me the goods…”

Click. The folder opened. It contained shipping routes, container numbers and codes that meant nothing to us, civilians, but millions to someone in their trade. I started the data dump, encrypted the file, and hit send to Rico’s secure drop. Done. Money in the bank. I’d be out of this shithole warehouse and one step closer to keeping Mom alive.

Done. Or so I thought.

Until I heard the unmistakable sound of a gun’s safety being released behind my head.

“Hands up.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How did I not hear footsteps behind me?

I froze. The kind of still that only comes when your brain’s screaming to you to run, but your body already knows it’s too late. I knew it. I should have just followed my guts and walked away.

Goddamnit, Micah!

“Turn around slowly,” the voice growled, low and controlled.

I obeyed, moving my feet slowly. Three men in suits stood in front of me, all with dead eyes.

The one in the middle, tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar slicing through his left eyebrow, held a gun fitted with a silencer. The other two flanked him, one clutching a phone, the other cracking his knuckles like he was itching to use them.

These weren't cops. They weren’t Rico’s cartel goons either. They looked worse.

“Micah Reed,” the tallest one said, checking something on his phone. “You really didn’t know whose files you were working on, did you?”

Of course. They knew my name. I bet they knew damn thing about me.

I stayed silent.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You just sold classified Romano family data to a cartel for a measly fifteen thousand dollars.”

I did what? Romano family? The Romano syndicate didn’t just run drugs or guns—they owned entire governments in the country. Elio Romano was practically a myth. Some said he didn’t exist. Others said he once burned a man alive for interrupting his dinner.

My chest tightened. I could feel a hot liquid trailing between my thighs as I stared at them.

“I didn’t know,” I said quickly. “I swear—”

Tears welled up in my eyes as Mom’s face flashed in my mind. She’d begged me not to take this job. Guess I wouldn't be seeing her again.

“Yeah, you all say that.”

He nodded to the other two men. One yanked my arms behind my back, another ripped the drive from the port of my laptop.

“Wait—no, no, listen, I can fix it—!”

The tall man's fist connected with my stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air. My laptop was slammed shut and taken. Hands yanked my wrists behind my back and cuffs snapped shut on them.

The one with the silencer stretched his hands aiming at my left chest. This was it. I was going to die in a shitty warehouse, face-first in dirt, over a goddamn job I should’ve turned down. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the gunshot.

But then, one of the men’s phones buzzed.

A pause.

They exchanged looks and nodded at each other, like they were communicating in some sort of unspeakable language.

“Change of plans,” the tall one, who seemed to be their leader, said. “You are wanted alive.”

“What? Who?”

“Elio.”

Just one word. And suddenly, I wished they’d just killed me.

“Knock him out,” the leader said, marching out already. I didn’t even get to scream before something cracked against my skull and dropped me into darkness.

~~~~

When I woke up, my head was pounding, and my face was mashed against the backseat of a blacked-out SUV. My hands were tied behind me and my ankles were bound. I couldn’t see anything except the glint of a silver ring on the driver’s hand.

The city lights melted into glass as I was driven into the hills, past gated estates and security checkpoints that screamed money and blood.

By the time they hauled me out and marched me into the marble penthouse, I knew I wasn’t in the hands of hired thugs anymore.

I was in his house. They dragged me through a private elevator, past silent guards in tailored suits, and into the most luxurious penthouse I’d ever seen.

That’s where I saw a man who was standing by the window, back to me, hands in his pockets.

Elio Romano.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me who he was. I recognized him instantly. The man I’d hacked. The man whose name never showed up in headlines, but made kings bleed behind closed doors.

He was sipping something dark from a crystal tumbler, staring at the skyline like he owned it. He probably did.

He turned when he heard me struggling against the cuffs. And just like that, I forgot how to breathe. Because God? He was beautiful in that terrifying, expensive way.

If this were any other day, if I wasn't staring death in the face, I would have imagined what it would feel like to be pinned beneath him, my wrists trapped in one of his hands as he fucked me senseless. But this wasn't a fantasy. This was the end.

Tall, broad-shouldered with dark hair was slicked back. He had a five o’clock shadow on a razor-sharp jaw. His blue eyes were like sharpened obsidian—cutting right through me. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look curious.

He looked like he’d already decided what to do with me. And none of it involved mercy.

“So,” he said calmly, walking toward me, the drink still in his hand “You are the little thief who tried to sell my blood.”

His blood?? My mind stalled. There had to be something I was missing—something big.

“I didn’t know it was your file,” I said again, because it was all I had left. “I was just trying to make ends meet for myself.”

He stopped just inches away from where I lay sprawled.

“That you were. But you were risking my niece's life the whole time.”He crouched down until we were eye-level, and studied me for a long second. “You have no idea what you’ve walked into, do you?”

I tried to swallow but I couldn’t.

“I’ve seen your work. You’re smart. Reckless. But talented,” he said. “You didn’t even know whose system you were in.”

“So you won't kill me?”

“No. You just saved your life.”