All Chapters of HIS BEAUTIFUL THIEF: OWN BY THE MAFIA KING : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The drive across the city was silent except for the low hum of the luxury SUV’s engine. Luca sat in the back with Nico pressed against his side, the kid’s head eventually drooping onto his shoulder as exhaustion won out. Vittorio rode up front beside the driver, his broad frame somehow making even the spacious vehicle feel smaller. Luca kept stealing glances at the passing streets, half-expecting Tommy and his crew to appear out of every shadow. His body ached with every bump in the road, ribs screaming, face throbbing where fresh bruises were already blooming.When they finally pulled up to a sleek high-rise in a quieter, upscale part of the city, Luca wasn’t surprised. Of course Vittorio would have a place like this — polished glass, private garage, the kind of building that screamed money and power. What did surprise him was how cozy it felt once they stepped inside the penthouse apartment on the fifteenth floor. High ceilings, warm lighting, soft leather couches that actually look

The morning light felt too bright, too final.Luca stood in the penthouse foyer with his small duffel bag slung over one shoulder, the same battered bag he’d carried through countless moves and narrow escapes. It held almost nothing — a few changes of clothes, the family photos carefully wrapped, and the faint scent of their old apartment still clinging to the fabric. Nico stood a few feet away, trying so hard to look brave that it broke Luca’s heart.They talked yesterday. They hugged, laughed, made promises. But talking about leaving and actually walking out the door were two entirely different things.Nico’s lower lip trembled despite his best efforts. He kept swallowing, fists clenched at his sides, eyes fixed on the floor. “So… this is it, huh?”“Yeah,” Luca said softly. His voice sounded steadier than he felt. “This is it.”He stepped forward and pulled Nico into a tight hug. The kid’s arms came around him immediately, gripping harder than usual, face buried in Luca’s shoulder.

Luca had been waiting for this night.For three days Vittorio had been surprisingly patient. Ever since the brutal attack on their old apartment, the mafia boss had kept his distance. No summons to the Velvet Rope. No rough hands dragging Luca into private rooms. No demands for his body in the middle of the night. Vittorio had simply let him stay close to Nico in the penthouse, giving the brothers space to process everything that had happened. He had been… understanding. Almost kind.That kindness unsettled Luca more than any threat ever could.He kept catching himself wondering if he had been wrong about Vittorio all along. Maybe the man wasn’t just a cold predator who took what he wanted. Maybe there was something more underneath the control and the power. The thought made Luca’s stomach twist with confusion and a reluctant flicker of something dangerously close to trust.Tonight, though, Luca knew the grace period was over.He spent a long time in the bathroom, cleaning himself car

Luca hadn't planned on picking anything fancy.He wandered through the high-end boutique with Alex trailing behind him like a well-dressed shadow. The store smelled of expensive leather and cologne — the kind of place where even the hangers probably cost more than Luca's old sneakers.He reached for simple things at first. Plain black t-shirts. Comfortable jeans. A couple of hoodies that didn't scream "I belong to a mafia boss."Alex cleared his throat. "Mr. Russo specifically requested a full wardrobe. He wants you to have options."Luca shot him a look. "Options? Or a uniform?"Alex's expression didn't change. "Both, probably."With a resigned sigh, Luca gave in. He let himself pick pieces that actually caught his eye — a soft charcoal button-down, a fitted black sweater that hugged his shoulders, slim dark jeans, a leather jacket that was way too cool for someone who used to steal food from corner stores. Each item made him feel a little more like he belonged, and a little less lik

Three days passed without Vittorio.Luca told himself he was relieved. The night they had shared — the slow surrender, the kiss that had tasted like something far more dangerous than ownership, the way Vittorio had let him set the pace — had left everything feeling blurred and unsteady. He no longer knew if he was enduring the man’s touch because he had to, or because some treacherous part of him had started to crave it. The uncertainty gnawed at him. He didn’t want to want Vittorio. He couldn’t afford to. Yet every quiet moment in the mansion made his heart race for reasons he refused to name.The restlessness grew unbearable.On the third night, Luca tossed and turned until the silk sheets felt like restraints. Sleep would not come. He kicked the covers aside, padded to the window, and stared out at the grey night sky. The moon offered no comfort, only a hazy silver glow that made the gardens look like a painting he wasn’t allowed to touch. The silence of the mansion pressed in, amp