Owned by the Mafia Billionaire (A MxM erotica novel)

Chapter five

Micah’s POV

What the fuck kind of mafia Netflix nightmare had I landed in? Was I being tested?

Everything that had happened from the warehouse till now felt surreal, like I’d wake up in a cold sweat any second and laugh at how messed up my dreams had gotten.

But I wasn’t waking up.

And Elio Romano... God. What the hell was that earlier? Why did he storm in like a man possessed, only to stop short like he was fighting himself? There’d been tension in the air, thick enough to choke on.

I paced the suite again and again, like a caged animal—which I guess I was, cursing under my breath and raking my hands through my damp hair. I had risked my life for this mission all for nothing.

My chest tightened at the thought of my mom. She’d be losing her mind by now. And Rico... damn it. That idiot better be looking for me. He owed me that much, at least.

Right. My phone.

I moved quickly to where my clothes had been dumped, snatching up my jeans and digging through the pockets. I’d taken a shower the second I got in here, scrubbing the filth of the warehouse off me.

My fingers shoved into the back pocket—nothing. Front ones—empty. I flipped the jeans inside out like a desperate addict hunting through drawers for a last fix. Still nothing.

“Fuck,” I hissed, kneeling beside the pile of clothes and patting everything down like the phone might magically appear if I begged hard enough.

It was gone.

Elio’s men must’ve taken it when they dragged me here. Who the hell knew what the protocol was for kidnapping someone under the pretense of hospitality?

I looked around the suite, desperate for something that could at least be of help. Landline? Nope. Nothing but sleek furniture, blackout curtains, and cameras surrounded me.

I sat back on my heels, chest rising and falling too fast. What can I do? How can I reach my mom? I thought, pacing the floor. My eye flicked to the only monitor in the room. If only I could get access to it.

I had no plan, no tools, no training for this exact scenario, but what I did have was desperation. That shit can power miracles.

I yanked the bedsheet off the mattress and dragged it over to the desk. If there were any screws, I’d need something thin and pointed, something I could use to open up the monitor casing or maybe trigger a reset.

A pen.

My eyes locked onto the note pad and pen set beside the TV remote. I snatched the pen, popped it open, and stripped the ink tube out. The plastic tip was sharp enough. It would have to do.

With shaky hands, I moved to the flat-screen monitor embedded in the wall. I didn't know if it was a CCTV feed, a smart device, or just a decorative prop to make the room feel less like a prison. But I had to try.

I pried at the corner seam with the pen shaft. It bent, then cracked, but it gave me enough space to start lifting the cover. Sweat slid down my spine even though the room wasn’t hot. I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting one of Elio’s guard to

It wasn’t much, but it had enough edge to pop the screws loose. My hands trembled as I poked at the guts of the thing, wires, boards, tiny flashing lights. If I could reroute this somehow, hell, if I could send anything, even a blip that might get picked up by the agency, or call a number that was etched into my brain—just once, just to let her know I was alive.

The second I tapped a blue wire to metal, the screen flashed, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Shit.

A high-pitched alarm sounded. Not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the quiet like a razor. I froze, hands still buried in the hardware as the suite door slammed open.

Elio.

He stormed in angrily, his coat flaring behind him, black-on-black-on-black, but his blue eyes were zeroed in on me.

I stood slowly, the pen still in my hand, not as a weapon but as a sad little symbol of rebellion. He didn't even flinch.

“I figured you might try something stupid,” he said coolly, eyes glinting. “But I hoped you had more sense than this.”

“I wasn’t trying to escape,” I said quickly, my breath shallow. “I just wanted to—look, I just need to get in touch with my mom.”

He cocked his head. “That’s what this is about? Mommy dearest?”

“Don’t fucking mock me.”

His lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“You risk setting off a silent security protocol to call your mother?” He stepped forward. I stepped back. He didn’t stop. “You really think Rico’s looking for you?”

I froze. “What?”

Elio raised a brow. “He’s not your friend. You were bait. That’s why he still hasn't sent your pay. Instead, he is planning on haunting your mom and sister .”

“That’s a lie.” My jaw tightened

“Oh, is it?” he asked mockingly. “And if you’re still clinging to some fantasy that Rico’s going to storm in here guns blazing, save it.”

My throat burned. “I just want her to know I’m okay. Please.”

The word felt heavy in my mouth.

His gaze dropped to the half-ripped monitor. “You want something. That’s fine. But don’t insult me by pretending this wasn’t a move.”

He turned, like he was done with me and he was dismissing me. That snapped something inside me.

“What if I gave you something in return,” I said, my voice low, broken.

He paused.

“I know I’m not in control here. You’ve made that obvious. But if you want something—” I swallowed. “Use me.”

He turned again, slower this time. Watching. Assessing.

“Use you how?”

I stepped forward, my heart hammering. My shirt still hung loose from the shower earlier. I let it slide off my shoulder just enough to show the skin above my collarbone.

“You tell me,” I said, my voice steadier now. “Or do you only like control when it’s easy?”

Something flickered in his eyes. Desire, restraint. I knew it. I fucking knew it.

“Micah.” His voice was warning and soft. “You have no idea what game you’re starting.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

That was a lie. But it didn’t matter. I needed a win. Any win.

“I need my mother to know I’m not dead. If the only card I have is my body, then fine. I’m not a saint.”

Silence.

Then, finally, he stepped in. Closer. The air between us sizzled. He reached out, fingers brushing my jaw—so soft, it made me shiver.

“You think seducing me will get you what you want?” His jaw clenched.

I swallowed hard. My heart was thudding so loud I thought it would knock the words right out of my throat. But I didn’t break eye contact with him.

There was no need saying if I perish I perish. I had already perished.

“No,” I murmured. “I think wanting me is already messing with your head.”