All Chapters of Mafia's Unexpected Prized Possession: Chapter 61 - Chapter 69

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

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

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

GIOVANNI'S POV The air was thick with tension, the kind that clung to your skin like a second layer, suffocating and unrelenting. I lay there in bed, my body a testament to the chaos of the night—a gunshot wound in my left abdomen, another in my right shoulder. The pain was a constant, throbbing reminder of the fragility of life, but it wasn’t enough to dull the fire burning in my chest. Jealousy. It gnawed at me, relentless and unforgiving, as I watched Tristan flirt shamelessly with Dmitri. My Tristan. The thought alone was enough to make my blood boil.I didn’t care about the wounds. They were mere inconveniences, temporary setbacks in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was Tristan, and the way he looked at Dmitri—that spark in his eyes, that smile playing on his lips. It was mine. It had always been mine. And I would remind him of that fact, even if it was the last thing I did.I lay seductively, my presence commanding attention despite the pain that threatened to buckle

GIOVANNI'S POVThe first thing I registered was the insistent, golden assault of the morning sun, seeping through a gap in the heavy window curtains. My eyelids fluttered, a slow, grudging surrender to the new day. Then, the weight. A warm, heavy arm draped across my bare chest, rooting me to the bed.I shifted my gaze to my left, discerning the serene, still-sleeping face of Tristan. His breathing was a soft, rhythmic whisper against the quiet of the room. We lay tangled in blankets, both of us stark naked, a testament to the raw, unbridled chaos of the night before. Rough, demanding, utterly consuming. His body, warm against mine, felt like a second skin, an extension of my own existence. I could feel the faint tremor of his heart against my ribs, a delicate counterpoint to the thunderous rhythm of my own.My eyes traced the elegant curve of his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the soft, full line of his lips, slightly parted in slumber. It was a face I had grown addicted to, a l