Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

ADRIEN’S POV

The place Orion takes me for ’work’ is a shiny, loud, club right in the middle of one of the largest entertainment streets in America.

Yes, America.

I’ve been flown around more times this week than I have in my entire life, but I honestly believe that this is because Orion has a problem with staying in one place. Like a freaking migratory bird.

”What do you think, duckling?” There he goes again.

”I don’t know what you want me to say Orion,” the ambience of this place is kind of weird, ”it’s a club.”

He sidles up to me and places a hand on my arm, smiling down at me like a lunatic. I hate seeing him, but I hate seeing him smile more.

”Tone down the hatred for a bit, darling,” his hand wanders to my collarbone, ”I just wanted to see if we were on the same page.”

”Well, we’re not.” So, fuck off.

He raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, stepping closer to me. ”I didn’t take you in yet so the music wouldn’t rattle what little brain cells you have left, but here you are...still acting brainless.”

If I were still trying to lower myself for his non-existent mercy, I would have brushed this insult aside, but now that I know those cursed people are in town, I don’t have that option anymore.

Fucking Masamune leeches. Because of them, I now have to try to at least play Orion’s game. It won’t matter now, but it might matter in the long run.

I take a page from his book and match his step forward with one of my own. We’re so close, I can say for a fact that this satanic fucker might really not have pupils. His eyes are just a black bottomless void.

And everyone knows what they say about the eyes being the window to the soul.

”You know Orion, if you keep lording your high school performance over me, I’ll start thinking that you’re one of those people who peaked during that time.”

I’m not sure if my hand on his collar mirrors the sensual way his is on mine, but I hope that if it looks even the slightest bit aggressive, one of the security guards eyeing us at the entrance would pull me away for the sake of ’security’.

Faster than Orion can break my face for that insult.

”You’re touching me.” Is what he says instead.

It startles me.

My hand almost falls from his collar, but his hand is there to hold mine in place. His lips curve into an eerie grin, like he’s both pleased and...angry? Why’s the lunatic angry?

”You haven’t touched me in years, duckling.” He leans down, nose brushing against the top of my head. It sends shivers down my spine.

”Maybe if you were more likable, I’d be willing to touch you with my pinky, but you’re not and I chose not to touch you.”

He rubs his face into my hair with a satisfied sigh. ”I was likable once, but you still ran away.”

”You fucker! I ran away because you— ”

”Because I did what?” I can hear the fucking smirk in his tone. ”Because I did away with your little follower?”

And just like that, Orion’s grip on me changes from mildly sensual to suffocating. He’s too close. He’s everywhere. His hand is on me. His scent is in my nose.

His fingers are curled into my brain.

He should not look as surprised as he does when I shove him off me. I can’t breathe. I stumble back from him trying to catch my breath.

”You can’t still be hung up on that.” He’s actually surprised. This crazy lunatic is actually surprised.

I want to say something. Anything. I want to tear into him too and see if I can leave wounds as large and deep as the ones he gave me...But, I can’t.

I can’t say anything.

My kind landlords. Their daughter who loves to call me big brother. My hairstylist who drags me in for a cut every two weeks. My grocer who gives me the best cabbages.

Masamune lurking in the background. Orion’s unpredictable bouts of insanity.

My dead friend.

So, I swallow it down. I bite my tongue hard and let the taste of copper and iron flood my mouth in an effort to keep silent. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose it, then punishing me for it.

”I think the club is loud...and bright.” My breath shudders as I speak. The weight of other words I could have spoken hangs heavy in my chest.

I could’ve torn into him as he did to me.

”The club? What does that have to do with what talking about right now?” He tilts his head slightly, assessing me in slight confusion.

”You asked what I thought of the club, Orion.” I have to breathe. Just breathe. ”I’m giving you my answer.”

For one glorious minute, he says nothing. Then that minute passes and he speaks. ”Well, I don’t care about that anymore. What I asked you was— ”

”Mr Orion!”

A young man bursts out of the doors of the club, yelling Orion’s name happily, and effectively cutting off the madman.

He skips up to us, stepping out of the shadow of the club’s entrance. He’s beautiful. Not in the sharp, terrifying way I’m used to people around Orion looking like.

He looks warm.

Soft mahogany curls frame his face. His skin glows, even in the harsh lighting of the street lights, with a smile bright enough to outshine even the street lights.

His eyeliner is sharp and clean, and there’s glitter dusted beneath his eyes. Actual glitter.

”Mr Orion,” he calls out again breathlessly, ”I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I expect many things. A dismissal, an annoyed glare, or even a manic smile, but what I don’t expect is for Orion’s demeanor to change.

It’s subtle— so subtle that most people wouldn’t even notice it. But I do.

The suffocating pressure around me disappears as Orion takes a step back. The hand he had stretched towards me, falls to his side.

The newcomer finally decides to notice me. Bright blue eyes blink in surprise before his entire face lights up.

”Oh!” He gasps, ”You brought someone.”

Something ugly twists low in my gut at his wording. Brought. Like I’m a pet— like I’m one of Orion’s little trinkets.

Oriok glances briefly at me, before looking back at the man. ”Unfortunately...”

Before I can even begin to process the insult, the newcomer’s laugh echoes in my ears. He laughs like Orion just cracked the funniest joke since the evolution of man.

It’s merely three seconds of laughter, but it feels like an eternity to me. It pisses me the fuck off.

”I’m Luca,” he says, sticking his hand towards me without hesitation. ”You are?”

I stare at his hand for a second too long, so used to being around crazy fucks like Orion and his merry circus of clowns that I’ve already forgotten how normal people act.

”Now, don’t leave me hanging,” Luca jokes lightly, wiggling his fingers at me.

”He does that a lot,” Orion chimes in unhelpfully. ”He tends to leave people hanging.”

I ignore him and take Luca’s hand in mine, aiming to shake it quickly and get this over with. My expectations shatter the moment my palm touches his.

He shakes my hand like he wants to fuse our skin together.

”Adrien.” I bite out as I shake off his grip.

”Is that your name? It’s so pretty.” He beams.

And there goes my desire to continue any sort of conversation with this man. I will not be referred to as pretty by a man who looks like a model in glitter.

”Luca,” Orion says suddenly, tone free of tension, ”why are you outside?”

The shift in tone is so clear, that even Luca notices it. His smile falters slightly. Good.

”Oh. Right.” He rubs the back of his head, flashing both of us a sheepish smile. ”I just came out here because one of the managers said you were here and I thought maybe something was wrong.”

Something unreadable flickers across Orion’s face at his confession. Then, he smiles. It’s bloody horrifying. I can feel the storm brewing in that grin.

”You were worried about me?” The devil asks softly.

Luca perks up immediately. ”Well, yeah.”

The answer comes so easily that it catches me off guard. He didn’t even hesitate. I almost pity him.

I would pity him, but he laughed at me.

Orion steps closer to Luca, fingers brushing away a curl from the man’s forehead with casual familiarity. Luca leans into it instinctively, like a cat to its owner.

My stomach turns. Not because I care— I absolutely do not care.

”You truly are a darling, aren’t you Luca?”

It’s just that I know what Orion looks like when he’s toying with someone’s life and enjoying it, and that smile on his face is nothing short of manic.