All Chapters of OWNED BY THE MAFIA BILLIONAIRE: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Aiden Blackwood lay on the sagging mattress in his rundown apartment, staring up at the cracked ceiling where water stains bloomed like dark omens. The room smelled of damp mildew and regret, a far cry from the polished penthouses of his past. At twenty-eight, he was no longer the arrogant prince of a media dynasty, the one who wielded power like a weapon, bullying those beneath him to hide his own insecurities. That life had shattered in a storm of corruption scandals, leaving his family bankrupt and disgraced. His older brother, Marcus, with his charismatic grin and reckless decisions, had embezzled funds from their crumbling empire, plunging them deeper into debt. Now, prison bars loomed for Marcus unless Aiden could scrape together the money for lawyers and settlements. Legitimate work? Impossible. The Blackwood name was poison in New York’s elite circles. Desperation had driven him to darker paths.Whispers from shadowy contacts had pointed him toward The Gilded Cage, an undergro

Aiden stepped out of Vane Tower into the crisp morning air, the signed contract burning a hole in his pocket like a live wire. The ink was still fresh, his signature a neat scrawl next to Silas’s elegant flourish. On paper, it was employment. In truth, it was a surrender wrapped in professionalism. His body still humming from the desk encountered Silas’s cock stretching him, the possessive growl in his ear, the hot flood that left him marked. He adjusted his tie, trying to ignore the ache between his legs, the way his skin flushed at the memory.Back at the apartment, Marcus paced like a caged animal. “So? What did the bastard want?” His blond hair was tousled, eyes bloodshot from another sleepless night dodging process servers.“A job,” Aiden said flatly, tossing the contract copy onto the table. “Personal assistant. Pays well enough to cover your mess.”Marcus snatched it up, scanning the pages. “Vane Industries? That psycho from school? The one you used to—”“Shut up, Marc.” Aiden’

The Tokyo hotel suite overlooked the glittering sprawl of Shibuya, neon bleeding through floor-to-ceiling windows like liquid fire. Aiden stood at the glass, still feeling the jet’s vibrations in his bones or maybe that was just Silas’s touch lingering. The bite on his shoulder throbbed under his collar, a secret brand. He hadn’t slept on the flight after the confession; Marcus had hired a hit on Silas a decade ago. Not a rumor. Fact. And Silas had let it slide, choosing slow-burn revenge over swift justice.Silas emerged from the bedroom, shirt unbuttoned, revealing the hard planes of muscle and faint scars Aiden had learned by tongue and fingertip. He carried two glasses of whiskey, offering one without a word. Their fingers brushed. Electricity snapped.“Victor Kane checked in an hour ago,” Silas said, voice low. “Penthouse floor. He brought muscle ex-special forces, by the look of them.”Aiden took a swallow, the burn grounding him. “He’s here for the merger?”“He’s here for us.”

The merger signing room in Tokyo’s sleek corporate tower buzzed with restrained tension polished mahogany table, panoramic views of the skyline, lawyers in crisp suits shuffling papers. Aiden stood at Silas’s side, tablet in hand, projecting calm efficiency. Inside, his mind churned: the photo linking Marcus and Kane to the hit attempt. Silas had dismissed it as leverage they’d neutralize today. But Aiden’s collar still hidden under his shirt felt tighter, a reminder of the love he masked as business.Victor Kane entered last, bald head shining under fluorescent lights, predatory grin fixed. His entourage included two burly men mafia types, Aiden noted absently, tattoos peeking from cuffs. Kane’s empire wasn’t just tech; whispers tied him to underground dealings, but Aiden pushed it aside.“Gentlemen,” Kane said, voice oily. “Let’s make history.”Silas’s stormy eyes narrowed. “Or end it.” He slid the contract forward, pen poised.As signatures flowed, Elena hovered nearby, her elegant

Midnight draped Yokohama’s docks in heavy fog, the kind that swallowed sound and turned shadows into threats. Aiden crouched beside Silas behind a rusted shipping container, the salt air sharp in his lungs. The anonymous message still burned in his mind: Come alone or lose your lover. Silas had ignored the “alone” part. His crew six hardened men in dark tactical gear, faces half-hidden by balaclavas fanned out in a loose perimeter. No badges, no corporate logos. Just silent efficiency, the kind born from years of operating outside the law.Silas’s mafia wasn’t a rumor anymore. These were the men who moved money through shell companies, enforced debts with broken fingers, and vanished problems that couldn’t be hacked away. Aiden had glimpsed it before the late-night calls, the locked briefcases, the way Silas’s eyes darkened when certain names were mentioned but seeing it deployed like this felt different. Intimate. Dangerous. He wasn’t supposed to be here. The contract said executive