บททั้งหมดของ Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession: บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

GIOVANNI’S POV The first sliver of dawn was just a pale, indifferent smudge against the thick velvet curtains. The room was silent save for the steady, shallow breaths coming from the man resting heavily against me. Tristan. My arm had gone completely numb, but I dared not move. His skin was warm where it pressed against mine, his head nestled perfectly in the crook of my neck, the weight familiar and deeply anchoring. If I could freeze time, I would live in this moment... this deceptive, beautiful peace forever. But I was a man who dealt in brutal reality, and reality was etched in the lines of pain marring his sleeping face. I shifted my gaze, carefully, slowly, forcing myself to look. The sight was a punch to the gut, draining the warmth from my veins. The dried trails of old cuts on his forearm peeking out from beneath the sheet, the slight puffiness still visible on his cheek where Vlad’s fist had connected. Even in the soft light, the residual violence of the previous night

GIOVANNA POVThe light of dawn, which had once felt like a promise of bloody retribution, now filtered in, softening the edges of the room where Tristan had stood victorious.My impossible Tristan.He was right there, alive, breathing, annoyingly clever, and the sheer relief that still coursed through me made my hands tremble. I pulled him closer, inhaling the scent of him, the faint traces of cologne mixed with something uniquely Tristan – resilience and an almost shocking sweetness.“Alright,” I finally murmured, stepping back, though my hand lingered on his arm. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up.”The ‘mess’ wasn’t just the cowering assassin bound on the floor, but the entire, bloody saga that had brought us to this point. Vlad Kuznetsov. He was dead. Truly, irrevocably gone. He lay in the lower chambers, a silent testament to the end of an era, an end that had left scars on my soul but also, unexpectedly, paved the way for something new.Dmitri had arrived shortly after, his usual c

GIOVANNI'S POVMy world had always been a meticulously crafted cage of shadows, a realm where every flicker of light was either extinguished or bent to my will. Yet, as the massive, intricately carved doors of the Grand Hall swung open, revealing the ethereal vision within, I felt a tremor that shook the foundations of my carefully constructed existence. He was there. Tristan.My breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that burned in my lungs. He stood at the threshold, bathed in the soft, golden glow of a thousand chandeliers, a beacon of pure, unwavering light. He was immaculate, devastatingly so, in an all-white suit that seemed to shimmer with an inner luminescence.Every detail, from the crisp lines of the fabric to the way his hair was styled, spoke of a refined elegance that was uniquely his. He was indeed the white spot on the darkness of my world, a stark, luminous contrast to the black abyss I inhabited. My eyes, accustomed to discerning imperfections, found none in him. He wa

GIOVANNI'S POVThe moment my lips met Tristan’s, the world ceased to exist.It wasn’t a kiss so much as a rupture—a breaking open of the man I had been and the man I had become. Every shard of restraint I had honed across decades splintered beneath the soft, desperate sound Tristan made into my mouth. I pulled him closer, tasting tears and triumph, tasting him, tasting the promise he had just made before an entire world that once feared my touch.When I finally tore myself away... because my lungs insisted, not because I wished to... Tristan’s lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed, his eyes shining with tears and something far softer.I rested my forehead against his, breathing him in.“My husband,” he whispered.A rare thing happened then—my heart stumbled. He was mine. Truly, irrevocably mine. “Come,” I murmured, brushing my thumb along his lower lip. “We have a reception to attend.”He laughed, shaky and breathless. “We’re going to be late.”“They can wait,” I said. “I just married

TRISTAN'S POVGiovanni suddenly flipped me. The weight of his body pressed me deeper into the silk sheets, the rich fabric cool against my heated skin, yet doing little to stem the inferno building within me. His muscular frame, honed and taut, was a testament to raw, unbridled power, a living sculpture of dominance that had me pinned beneath him. ”Youre being too playful.” he whispered.The dim light of the master bedroom, cast long, dancing shadows across his tan skin, accentuating the fierce, almost feral urgency in his brown eyes.“Surrender,” he growled, the single word a commanding whisper that vibrated deep within my chest. I felt the undeniable shift in our dynamic, a reversal of power that left me breathless. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, his grip firm, unyielding. My own strength, usually reliable, felt insignificant against his. Resistance, I knew, was futile; my breath hitched, as his lips, hot and demanding, crashed down on mine. It was a hungry, rel