All Chapters of Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession: Chapter 91 - Chapter 99

TRISTAN'S POVThe moment the last glint of Giovanni’s convoy disappeared, I turned on my heel and moved. I stride back towards the mansion, a singular mission already forming in my mind. My bedroom, a sanctuary of sorts, beckoned. The heavy oak door swung open with a soft whoosh as I pushed it, the air inside cool and still.First order of business: knowledge. I sought out Antonio, a man whose silver hair and impeccable posture exuded an air of quiet authority. I found him in the great hall, overseeing a maid who carefully dusted a towering antique grandfather clock. The gentle tink of the duster against the polished wood was the only sound."Antonio," I began, my voice a little rougher than usual. He turned, his gaze steady and respectful. "I need all the medical journals I was looking at in the library brought to my room. And… if it's not too much trouble, a laptop."He didn't miss a beat. "Of course, Mr. Tristan. Immediately." His voice was a smooth, low murmur, polite efficiency

TRISTAN'S POVThe sharp clap of Juliana’s hands sliced through the oppressive quiet of the room, a sound so smug it made my teeth ache. My brow furrowed instinctively. A cold knot of unease tightened in my stomach even before the heavy oak door, which seconds ago had been solid, swung inward with a low, mournful creak. My bare feet, still damp from the shower, instinctively shuffled back a step on the cool marble.A wave of dread washed over me as the doorway filled with figures. Not Giovanni’s men, not the familiar, heavy-set bodyguards with their quiet efficiency. These were different. Harder. Their footsteps, a rhythmic thud, seemed to shake the very floorboards as they streamed in. A low grunt from the first man, then another, and suddenly, they were on me.Strong hands—too many hands—grabbed at my arms, my shoulders, my waist, their fingers digging into my skin. I let out a choked sound, a quick, sharp gasp as they pressed me down, down, down, forcing my knees to hit the hard flo

GIOVANNI'S POVThe ache was a dull throb, a constant, insidious reminder of unfulfilled desire, a phantom limb of frustration that clung to me even after a cold shower. It was the second day away from him, and every nerve ending in my body felt raw, exposed. Drying myself with a rough towel, I caught my reflection in the steam-fogged mirror. My eyes, usually sharp and calculating, held a restless hunger. Tristan.The name was a silent curse, a whispered prayer. I swore, then and there, that the moment I stepped back into the Sokolov estate, I would flood his mouth and his hole with my cum. I didn’t give a damn if we soaked the bedsheets till they were a sodden mess. All that mattered was that Tristan’s body would be soft as jelly, boneless and pliant, after I had bent all my pent-up frustration into him.“Fuck!” I muttered, the word a rasp against the silence of the Italian villa’s opulent bathroom.My imagination, a treacherous ally, was already painting vivid scenes: Tristan beneat

GIOVANNI'S POVThe phone felt like a live coal in my hand, burning, scorching, fueling a rage that simmered beneath my skin, threatening to boil over. Juliana’s message, a vile, taunting package of pixels, was seared into my brain. The photo: Tristan, my Tristan, sprawled on a bed, his body so utterly naked, so shamelessly exposed. The video: Ksenia, Juliana’s conniving friend, her hand stroking… stroking him.“Fuck!” The word tore from my throat, a guttural roar that echoed in the sterile silence of my Italian villa study. My knuckles were white, pressing the phone so hard I feared it might shatter, just as my composure threatened to. Tristan. My Tristan. Letting someone else touch him, pleasure him, while I was a world away, my own body a taut, aching mess of unfulfilled desire. It felt like a betrayal so profound it was physical, a knife twisting in my gut.Just last night, at the bar, the women had practically thrown themselves at me, their eyes promises of fleeting release, but

GIOVANNI'S POVI stood there, my chest heaving with a tempest of emotions.... anger, jealousy, and a possessive lust that had been simmering for three long days.My eyes, dark and unyielding, were fixed on the red marks that striped Tristan’s exposed ass, the result of the harsh whipping I had delivered with my belt. The image of him naked, another woman’s hands stroking his cock, then a few minutes ago... Tristan's laughter mingling with the voice of another man, replayed in my mind like a curse. It was a betrayal I couldn’t forgive, yet my desire for him only deepened with every memory.Tristan lay bent over the garden fountain, his body trembling, tears streaming down his face. The marble beneath him was cold, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his skin. The garden maze, once a place of tranquility, now felt like a cage, its high hedges closing in around us, trapping us in this moment of raw, unfiltered emotion. I stepped closer, my boots crunching on the gravel path. My