Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

ADRIEN’S POV

The morning light streams through the tall glass windows, casting long golden shapes across the dark marble floor.

Adrien opens his eyes slowly. His body feels heavy, resting in a cloud of soft, warm bedsheets. For a few seconds, he just lies there in the stillness, listening to the quiet rustle of the leaves outside in the garden.

The air in the master bedroom smells clean, mixed with the faint, comforting scent of cedar and dark tea.

He shifts his legs under the heavy duvet, wincing slightly at the tender ache deep in his hips.

Every detail of the previous night comes rushing back to his mind in vivid, relentless detail. The way Orion held him, the soft words whispered against his skin, and the surrender he willingly gave up on these dark sheets.

It feels surreal. For seven years, he ran from Orion. He built his entire life around the instinct to hide, to fight, and to treat Orion like a dark shadow waiting to swallow him whole.

Yet here he is, lying in Orion’s bed, feeling more relaxed than he has in nearly a decade. Something about the ease is faintly embarrassing to him.

Adrien turns his head toward the side of the bed. The spot beside him on the mattress is empty, though the sheets are still rumpled and warm to the touch.

He sits up slowly, pulling the blanket around his waist as he rests his back against the padded headboard. He looks up at the large fireplace wall, staring at the painted canvas of himself.

The portrait looks back at him with soft, familiar eyes. It is strange to think about Orion standing in this quiet room, holding a paintbrush, carefully capturing every angle of Adrien’s face from memory while Adrien was living in dark alleys and cheap, drafty rooms.

The fear that used to choke his lungs whenever Orion came close feels thin now. It is as if the heavy fog in his mind has cleared, leaving behind a complex, quiet truth.

He does not know what the future holds, and he certainly does not know how to navigate this strange truce between them, but he is tired of running.

Adrien slides his legs out of bed and stands up. His knees tremble slightly, but he steadies himself against the edge of the carved bedside table. He pulls on a plush cotton robe resting on the chair nearby, tying the sash loosely around his waist before stepping out of the bedroom into the wide hallway.

He walks down the wide marble staircase, his bare feet making no sound against the polished stone.

The soft sound of metal clinking against porcelain leads him toward the sunny dining alcove at the back of the house. The glass doors are pushed wide open, letting a cool morning breeze sweep through the room, carrying the scent of dew and damp grass.

Orion is sitting at the head of the dark mahogany table.

He wears a simple black silk shirt with the top buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He holds a crisp white morning paper in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. He looks settled, bathed in the bright sunlight.

As soon as Adrien steps into the doorway, Orion looks up. His dark eyes soften instantly, taking in the sight of Adrien in his robe.

”You are awake,” Orion says, his voice low and smooth in the quiet morning.

”I am,” Adrien answers, pulling out the chair right beside him and sitting down carefully.

Orion sets his coffee cup down on the porcelain saucer with a soft click. He reaches out across the wood, his large hand resting over Adrien’s smaller one on the layout of the table.

His thumb rubs gentle, slow circles against Adrien’s knuckles, tracing the bone. It’s ticklish.

”How are you feeling?” Orion asks, searching Adrien’s face with quiet, steady attention.

Adrien looks down at their joined hands, feeling the steady warmth radiating from Orion’s skin. ”Sore...but I’m fine.”

”Good,” Orion murmurs. He lifts Adrien’s hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to his knuckles before letting go.

A maid steps into the room quietly, carrying a heavy silver tray loaded with fresh breakfast. She places plates of warm scrambled eggs, buttered toast, smoked salmon, and fresh fruit between them, along with a pot of hot tea and a cup for Adrien.

She bows silently and exits through the side pantry, leaving them in peace.

Adrien picks up his fork, taking a small bite of the eggs. The food is warm and delicious, making him realize just how hungry he actually is after the night before.

Orion watches him eat for a moment before taking another slow sip of his black coffee. ”Did you sleep well?”

”Better than I have in a while,” Adrien admits, leaning back in his chair as he sets his fork down. He looks out into the green garden, taking a long, quiet breath. ”It is strange.”

”What is?”

”Being here,” Adrien says, turning his head to look directly into Orion’s eyes. ”Not looking over my shoulder every ten minutes or expecting someone to break down my door and drag me into another nightmare.”

Orion sets his cup down again, his expression growing still and focused. ”No one will break down your door here. You are safe.”

Adrien lets out a soft, faint hum, tracing the rim of his teacup. ”Safe with the man who’s chased me almost all my life...how ironic.”

A ghost of a smile touches the corner of Orion’s mouth, though his dark eyes remain serious. ”I chased you because you belonged with me. You just took a very long detour.”

Adrien shakes his head, picking up a piece of warm toast. ”You are an arrogant lunatic.”

”I am an honest lunatic,” Orion corrects gently, his tone unbothered. ”There is a difference.”

They eat in comfortable silence for a while, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around them. The natural light fills the space between them, warming the cool marble floors.

It feels surprisingly easy. They talk about small, mundane things—the pleasant weather outside, the specific tea blend Adrien is drinking, and the state of the rose bushes in the garden.

It is a conversation about everything and nothing at all, the kind of quiet banter normal people share over a morning meal.

For a few brief minutes, Adrien lets himself pretend that they are just two normal men sharing a morning together without a complicated history hanging over their heads.

He watches Orion cut his breakfast, observing the casual strength in his arms and the quiet authority he carries even in the middle of a simple meal.

It still amazes Adrien how easily Orion can command a room without saying a word. Yet here, sitting at a sunlit table, Orion looks almost gentle. Almost.

Adrien sips his tea, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. ”I used to think about what you were doing while I was away.”

Orion pauses, holding his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. ”Did you?”

”Sometimes,” Adrien says softly, looking down at the clear surface of his tea. ”When the nights were quiet and I was too cold to sleep. I wondered if you were furious, or if you had simply forgotten about me and moved on to something else. Something more interesting.”

”I never forgot,” Orion says, his voice taking on a heavy, grounded weight. ”Not for a single hour. Every decision I made was tied to finding you.”

Adrien meets his gaze, reading the dark sincerity in Orion’s eyes. There is no trace of exaggeration in his statement. It is just a plain fact, delivered with steady conviction.

As Adrien finishes his tea, Orion folds his newspaper neatly into a crisp rectangle and places it on the corner of the table.

He shifts in his chair, leaning slightly closer to Adrien. The easy atmosphere shifts, growing a bit more focused and intentional.

”Adrien,” Orion calls softly.

Adrien looks up from his empty cup, meeting Orion’s soulless gaze. ”Yes?”

”I want you to come somewhere with me this morning,” Orion says.

Adrien blinks, setting his cup back down on the porcelain saucer. ”Where?”

”A short drive,” Orion replies smoothly, resting his forearms on the table. ”There is something I need to show you. Something I should have shown you a long time ago, before I even touched you last night.”

Adrien studies Orion’s calm face, looking for any sign of hesitation or deceit, but he finds none. Only a weirdly steady invitation.

The mystery makes Adrien’s chest tighten slightly, but the lingering fear that used to rule his life does not flare up. He trusts Orion now, even if that trust is a fragile, newly built bridge.

”Do I need to change?” Adrien asks softly, pulling his robe a little tighter around his chest.

Orion smiles, rising from his chair in one smooth motion and offering his broad hand to Adrien. ”Yes, so dress comfortably, duckling. We leave in twenty minutes.”