All Chapters of Owned by the Mafia Billionaire (A MxM erotica novel): Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Chapter Two Micah's POV “No. You just saved your life.” The fuck does he mean? I blinked hard, still sprawled flat on the cold marble floor, aching in places I didn’t know could ache. My stomach throbbed where that asshole had punched me. My skull pulsed with the memory of the blow that knocked me out. But Elio Romano? He looked like he’d just gotten back from a gala. I swallowed. My mouth was dry. “So… that’s it? I get to live?” Elio stood and walked to his bar, pouring himself another drink. The soft clink of ice against the crystal glass echoed… “That depends,” he said, turning back to me. “Living and breathing aren't the same thing.” He took a slow sip from his drink. “You sold the location of my blood. My niece was on that ship. If I hadn't intercepted it, she would’ve been taken. Tortured. Maybe worse.” My stomach twisted. Had I doomed a kid just to pay Mom’s bills? I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. “You didn’t know,” he repeated, walking toward me

Chapter four Elio's POV I stormed out of the suite, slamming the door harder than necessary. What the hell was that? God. Help me. I was this close to kissing that boy. My fists clenched as I strode down the hall. My jaw ached from how tight I’d been grinding it. Micah. That little shit. Standing there, wet and unbothered, like he hadn’t just shattered every shred of control I had left. I hated how easily he got under my skin. No—I hated that I wanted him to. I yanked my phone out of my pocket and dialed. “Luca.” He picked up on the first ring. “Boss?” “Send someone to my quarters. One of the regulars. I don’t care who, as long as he’s willing and tight-lipped. I want him there in ten minutes.” There was a beat of silence before Luca’s voice came back, clipped. “Got it, boss.” I hung up without another word. Ten minutes later, a young, blond arrived. He was a familiar face, probably from my club, but I couldn't remember his name, and didn’t care to. He looked nervous when

Chapter Six Elio’s POV Fucking hell. Was this a test? A joke? A goddamn punishment? I had spent the last twenty-four hours holding myself back from this boy—this reckless, sharp-mouthed hacker—and now he’s standing there offering himself like it means nothing. He was trembling slightly, but he didn’t back down. His shoulder was bare, his lips parted, his shirt hanging half-off his frame like a deliberate invitation. I exhaled slowly through my nose. Micah had no idea what he was playing with. I stepped forward, slow and measured. His eyes tracked every movement I made, wide but not afraid. Not exactly. No, there was something else brewing in those pupils—an unstable mix of defiance, curiosity, and maybe the faintest flicker of need. Good. That was the look I wanted when I finally fucked him. I stopped just inches from him, letting the silence stretch between us like smoke filling the room. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking for, young man?” My voice came out low, dange

Chapter eight Elio's POV “Angelo,” I said, fixing my cufflinks as I stepped into the conference wing of my penthouse, “how many days has it been since I last went to the club?” “Two nights, sir,” he said without missing a beat. He was already waiting, his hands behind his back, the table in front of him cluttered with maps, shipment manifests, and blurred surveillance papers. “And how has the turnout been?” He hesitated slightly but I caught it. “It isn't what it should be. There's been lower foot traffic and less money being handed to the girls at the end of their dances. There’s been a dip.” I exhaled slowly, my nostrils flaring. That damn itch under my skin, constant and crawling, finally made sense. My instincts hadn’t shut up for the past twenty-four hours, whispering that something was off. Get up, Elio, my gut had been whispering. You’re needed. I should’ve been there yesterday, knowing my staff get lazy when I’m not watching. But no…I let myself get distracted by tha

Chapter Ten Elio’s POV I stepped into the penthouse, peeling off my jacket and tossing it on the arm of the couch. The silence swallowed me, heavy but familiar. The air felt warmer than usual. I loosened the first few buttons of my shirt, walked past the living area, and headed straight for my room. Inside, I stripped down, the weight of the night clinging to my skin. The scent of hospitals, sweat from the club, and old fears still lingered. I stepped into the shower, turned it on, and let it hit me. I stepped out, water still trailing down my chest. The tiles were cold under my feet. I grabbed the towel, drying off in silence, my mind not entirely in the present. My hands moved on autopilot as I dressed—black slacks, dark shirt, sleeves rolled once. Nothing fancy. I wasn’t in the mood to look like the man they all feared. I ran a hand through my hair. The house was too quiet. I didn’t like it when it was too quiet. It made me remember things I had no business remembering. Especi