All Chapters of Claimed By The Mafia Boss: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

CHAPTER 11ADRIEN I woke up with wet cheeks and fingers clenched in the sheets. I wasn’t crying, I told myself. Not really. Just sweating from a bad dream. A really bad one.The kind that sticks to your ribs and makes your throat burn.It was still early. The sky outside the window bled a pale grey, just enough light to see the silk of the sheets and the ugly truth in the mirror across the room.I pushed the covers off and got up slowly, limbs aching with the kind of weariness that never came from physical exhaustion. It was emotional rot. Still, I forced my lips into a smile. Bright. Plastic. Perfect.Time to play the golden boy again.I threw on a pair of dark jeans and a loosely buttoned linen shirt I found in the closet—probably Luca’s. Smelled like cedarwood and something sharper. Something male.I left my room and roamed the mansion like I had every day since I’d been kidnapped. Not that I was calling it that anymore. Kidnapping sounded too dramatic. This was… an uninvited exte

CHAPTER 13LUCAThe door slammed shut behind Adrien, and the silence that followed was far too loud.I stood there, still, his voice echoing in my head like a curse I couldn’t shake.“I need some toys… and dildos.”My jaw locked tight. My fingers curled into fists. That fucking brat. That mouth of his. The words should’ve made me angry—should’ve pushed me to snap his neck, toss him back in the cell where we first kept him. But instead…Instead, I was hard. So hard it hurt.“What the fuck is wrong with me…” I growled, dragging a hand over my face.I was straight. Straight.I didn’t flinch in front of corpses. I didn’t blink at betrayal. I’d buried men for looking me in the eye the wrong way. I didn’t get hard over soft pink lips saying “daddy” like a prayer. I didn’t let bratty boys with attitude problems worm under my skin.Yet here I was.Rock-fucking-hard in my slacks, hand twitching like I might touch myself to the image of Adrien on his knees, gagging on my cock.“Fucking hell.” I

CHAPTER 15LUCAIt was close to midnight when the feed flickered.I hadn’t meant to check it. Not really.I was supposed to be reading a report—shipping manifests from Palermo, updated surveillance reports from Naples, something about a mole in the Montenegro branch. But my eyes kept drifting toward the lower corner of my screen. To the feed labeled “West Wing - Guest Suite #2.”Adrien’s room.The camera in the corner wasn’t state-of-the-art. Just a standard feed for monitoring. No sound. Slight delay. But enough.Enough to watch him.He was half naked with his lower half bare.Naked and on his knees, spreading something out on the bed. My heart knocked once against my ribs—sharp. Sudden.The fucking box. Matteo delivered it.Adrien stared at the contents, mouth parted, chest rising and falling. His eyes were glassy, unfocused—desperate. Then he reached for the largest one. A thick curved plug, black and gleaming.I shifted in my chair.“No,” I muttered, fingers curling against the de

CHAPTER 17ADRIENI was going insane.There were only so many books I could read in one day, and the library, while stunning in a dark academia sort of way, was starting to feel like a well-decorated prison. It smelled like aged leather and secrets. I had paced the entire second-floor balcony twice, fingers trailing over dusty spines, before I heard it—the distant sound of raised voices.Voices I wasn’t supposed to hear.I followed them, quiet as a ghost, my silk shirt whispering with every step. The corridor was long and lined with mirrors, and I caught my reflection as I walked—too thin, too pale.The sound came from a room with the door half-closed. I recognized Damon’s voice. And Luca’s, low and lethal."...missing," Damon was saying. "One million, give or take. Cleaned. The transfer logs are erased."Then a gunshot. Sharp. Final.I flinched back."Fucking waste of skin," Luca growled.I peeked in.A man was slumped in the chair, still. Blood blooming beneath him. Damon wiped his

CHAPTER 19LUCAThe silence in the holding room was suffocating. I stood in the center, the concrete walls echoing the soft clink of metal from the chains as Jared squirmed.Damon and Matteo flanked the door behind me. They didn't speak. They never did when I was like this.Jared was tied to the steel chair, arms above his head, shirtless, face already bloodied from when my men dragged him in. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his lip was split. But it was nothing compared to what was coming.I stepped forward.“I trusted you,” I said quietly.He looked up, coughing. “Boss, I—”The first punch broke his sentence. My knuckles cracked across his cheekbone, the force of it rocking the chair. Blood splattered onto my shirt, but I didn’t feel it. I didn’t even breathe differently.“—didn’t… I didn’t mean to—” he coughed, spitting red. “It was just a transaction—”“A million dollars,” I said flatly, “isn’t just a fucking transaction.”His breathing was ragged. “I didn’t think you’d find