Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

It’s a sly, blatant lie designed to throw Orion off balance and distract him, but behind the wicked smirk, it’s the truth.

Contrary to the stubborn, unbothered front he had put up, Adrien had been deathly afraid the entire time he was trapped with Yaya.

Because by all logic, Yaya should have killed him to tie up loose ends. The debts and deals made in the past should have signed his death warrant the moment he was captured.

He had spent every minute of the pitiful time he was awake expecting a bullet to the back of his head at any given second.

Survival has always been a game of reading the room, but with Yaya, the room was a void.

Though, thinking about it now, a strange thought crosses Adrien’s mind.

Isn’t Yaya far too young to be the head of a massive syndicate like Masamune?

The man looked to be right around his own age, maybe a year or two older at most. Then again, Orion had probably started his own insane, bloody activities right after graduating high school.

If you really think about it, the underworld is now full of young monsters playing god.

The old men with their traditional codes and formal behavior are dying out, replaced by unhinged kids who build empires on pure chaos and inherited psychopathy.

Before Adrien can process the thought any further, Orion moves.

He doesn’t speak, nor does he warn him. He simply lunges forward, crashing his lips against Adrien’s in a fierce, hot kiss.

Adrien’s breath is stolen instantly. Orion’s hands cup his face, holding him in place with intense, possessive force. The kiss is deep, frantic, and hot enough to evaporate the breath right out of Adrien’s lungs.

Orion kisses him like a starving man offered a feast, pulling him so close that there is not an inch of air left between them. His broad shoulders block out the entire room, turning Adrien’s universe into nothing more than the scent of expensive cologne, faint gunpowder, and heat.

Orion’s specific scent.

Adrien’s good hand twitches, his fingers curling into the sheets, fighting the sudden urge to drag Orion closer just to stop the room from spinning.

When Orion finally pulls back just half an inch, Adrien is left lying back against the pillows, gasping for air as if the man had just fried his entire brain.

”Wait,” Adrien gasps out, his chest heaving as he blinks up at the ceiling, his cheeks flushed red. ”I... I haven’t even brushed my teeth for three days.”

Orion remains hovered right over him, his heavy body blocking out the bedroom light, his eyes burning down into Adrien’s face with unhinged fondness.

”You’ve been gone for a week, duckling.” Orion corrects softly, his warm breath fanning over Adrien’s cheeks.

Adrien blinks, processing the words through the haze in his head. ”Oh.”

Seven days. A whole week lost to the dark. No wonder his muscles felt like lead and his tongue tasted like dust. And now Orion.

He looks up at the towering man hovering over his body. Orion’s hair is a mess, dark circles shadow his sharp eyes, and his clothes are rumpled in a way Adrien has never seen before.

The immaculate, terrifying bastard looks like he hasn’t slept, showered, or sat in a chair for a single second since Adrien vanished.

The sharp tailor-made suit is wrinkled at the elbows, the top buttons of his shirt are undone, and his skin carries a pale, hollow strain that only raw anxiety could carve into a monster like him.

The man looks utterly exhausted, yet wildly alive.

”No wonder you look like a pet whose master left him out in the rain,” Adrien says, a faint, teasing grin pulling at the corner of his lips. ”It must have been a hard seven days for you. That’s pathetic Orion.”

Any normal man in Orion’s position—a powerful, terrifying underworld figure who commands hundreds of killers like himself—would take offense to being called a pet.

He would snap at being placed beneath someone else, especially a prisoner he had brought home. He would reassert control, demand respect, or tighten the leash just to prove who the real master is.

Instead, Orion freezes for half a second before bursting into a wild, manic round of laughter.

The sound echoes loudly off the wooden walls of the master bedroom. Orion laughs so hard he begins to wheeze, leaning heavily over Adrien’s thighs. His chest heaves with violent chuckles, the sheer relief and absurdity of the moment washing over him like a tidal wave.

His pupils are blown wide, dark and dilated, and his lips pull back into a smile so wide that Adrien can clearly see the sharp, dangerous edge of his incisors.

Why exactly does this bastard have teeth as sharp as a wild animal’s own? Is it genetic, or did he somehow pay a surgeon to sharpen them just to look more terrifying when he smiles at people he’s about to execute?

With Orion, either answer is equally terrifying and completely plausible.

”That is...” Orion wheezes out, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, his shoulders shaking with unhinged joy. ”That is the most accurate description I’ve ever heard! A pet left in the rain! I can’t even begin to argue with that! You’re so right, it’s insane!”

He looks like he wants to frame the insult and hang it in his office. The utter lack of self-respect when it comes to Adrien is a terrifying weapon, and Adrien knows it better than anyone.

Sensing the rapidly rising mania vibrating off the man, Adrien lets out a soft, awkward chuckle. He reaches out with his left hand, tapping Orion gently on the back like one might pat a volatile bulldog that might suddenly choose to bite.

”Right, well,” Adrien says quickly, trying to calm the storm before Orion completely loses his mind. ”Don’t think too much about it. Just go with the flow.”

Orion stops laughing, though his wide, brilliant smile does not fade in the slightest. The sudden shift from wheezing laughter to absolute stillness is jarring, the kind of emotional whiplash Adrien has had to learn to navigate to keep his head attached to his shoulders.

Orion shifts his weight, climbing up to sit on his knees directly over Adrien’s thighs, trapping him securely beneath his body. He’s heavy, anchoring Adrien to the bed like a bag of concrete, but Orion is careful not to press down on his fractured ribs.

He reaches down and grabs the hand Adrien had used to pat him. Coincidentally, it’s Adrien’s left hand—the one not wrapped in a medical splint. Orion lifts it slowly and gently presses a soft, lingering kiss against the back of his knuckles.

Adrien’s face contorts into something unrecognizable.

The sheer contrast between Orion’s blood-soaked reputation and this sickeningly sweet, worshipful gesture makes his stomach flip upside down.

He suddenly feels the urge to slap him.

”Have you even looked at your hand yet, my duckling?” Orion asks smoothly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, purring tone.

A shiver runs down Adrien’s spine.

He slowly turns his eyes down to look at the hand Orion is holding so tenderly against his lips.

There, resting firmly on his ring finger, are two thick metal bands.

One is the familiar silver engagement band he had been forced to accept before all of this madness started. But right beside it, resting snug and heavy against his skin, is a polished platinum band.

Engraved across the smooth metal surface, written in sharp, clear script for the whole world to see, is a single name— ORION.

Adrien’s heart drops straight to his stomach.

His breath hitches, his pupils shrinking to tiny points as he stares at the shining metal. His brain tries to calculate the timeline, trying to make the math work.

A crash. A blackout. A week in captivity. An unconscious rescue or retrieval.

And somewhere in the middle of all that blood, chaos, and frantic searching, Orion had found the time to commission customized jewelry and handle legal paperwork.

Orion flashes him a bright, innocent smile, looking like a child showing off his favorite new toy to a friend. He lifts his own left hand into Adrien’s line of sight, turning it slightly to catch the light.

There are two matching bands on Orion’s ring finger as well. A silver engagement ring, and a matching platinum band inscribed clearly with the name— ADRIEN.

”I got the marriage papers finalized while you were sleeping,” Orion explains candidly, his voice breezy and casual, as if discussing what to order for dinner. ”Since you were out cold and couldn’t sign your name on the lines, I just had the doctor help me take your thumbprint. It worked out perfectly!”

Adrien sits completely frozen, his mouth slightly open, staring at the glittering metal on his finger in sheer shock. His brain stops working completely. The room seems to spin around him as the reality of what Orion just said sinks into his head.

”You... you took my thumbprint?” Adrien whispers, his voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner. ”While I was unconscious? From a concussion?”

”Well, you weren’t using your hands at the time,” Orion points out reasonably, tapping his own chin. ”And the notary was very accommodating once my men explained how urgent the situation was. The legal system moves remarkably fast when you properly motivate the people in charge of processing your documents.”

”You bribed a government official to marry us while I was in a coma?”

”It was not a coma, duckling, just heavy sedation,” Orion corrects with a dismissive wave of his hand. ”And I didn’t bribe them. I simply gave them an ultimatum with a very generous pension plan attached to it. It’s completely legal. In fact, I had three copies filed in different city offices just in case one of them magically catches fire.”

Adrien opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. Words fail him. The sheer lunacy of the man sitting on his lap is breathtaking.

He actually prayed that Orion would rescue him, but the absolute idiot had spent the seven days he was gone filling out marital paperwork.

Orion leans in closer, his dark eyes sparkling with pure, unhinged happiness as he gently cups Adrien’s face once more, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone. His touch is warm and frustratingly soft.

”Since you have no real attachment to your surname,” Orion adds softly, leaning his forehead against Adrien’s, ”and I certainly don’t care for mine... whose surname would you like us to take?”

”Should we use your mother’s?”