Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

NIKO’S POV

”What an impressive office you have here~”

Niko whistles as he strolls down the hallway flanked by two of Don Antonio’s men.

”Business must be booming,” he adds with a sly smirk, amber eyes scanning the length of the hallway for hidden cameras and traps.

”The Don is a generous man.” One of the men leading him responds flatly.

”Of course he is,” his voice lowers as if sharing a secret, ”it’s his office after all.”

The joke lands with all the grace of a brick.

Apart from a cold side eye, his provocations get him nowhere. The men leading him to the Don’s office are merely expendable guards, and neither of them is suicidal enough to fall for the provocations of the underworld’s Wildcat.

What they’ll never know is that Niko isn’t trying to be provocative on purpose, he’s just naturally problematic, and even if he does provoke them, he’s not going to be the one to handle the aftermath.

No, that would be Orion’s mess to clean up.

The men lead him to a large oak door at the end of the hallway. The man who answered his question knocks twice on the door and takes a step back.

”Come in.”

The voice that answered was deep, rough, and carried the weight of a man who was accustomed to being obeyed.

The two men nod sharply at Niko and leave. They probably have better things to do...like guarding the office from Orion’s assault.

”They couldn’t even wish me luck.”

Chuckling lowly to himself, Niko presses down on the handle and pulls open the door. He steps into a simple but tastefully decorated study.

The space isn’t small, but it lacks the excessive luxury that many crime bosses surround themselves with.

”I can’t say that it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The voice comes from the center of the room.

Don Antonio sits on one of the sofas, his broad frame relaxed despite the circumstances. An unlit cigar dangling at his fingertips, as his beady dark eyes regard Niko steadily.

”Considering what your presence usually means,” Antonio continues, ”I’d rather not have to see you at all, Wildcat.”

Niko pauses, then slowly looks the man’s figure over. Don Antonio had earned his reputation throughout the underworld as one of the few remaining old-school Italian dons.

The ones who are neutral and reasonable. The ones who are bloody boring.

Yet, somehow the man before Niko had survived decades in a profession where reasonable people rarely lived long. Interesting.

For a long moment, Niko takes in the stocky, gruff-looking man sitting on the sofa, then walks up to him and takes the seat across from him.

”That’s a real shame, Antonio,” his gaze sharpens, ”because while you might not want to see me, I have no choice but to come see you.”

The lack of honorifics has no effect on the Don. With practiced ease, he breaks his staring contest with Niko to flick open a bronze lighter and light his cigar.

”Tobacco?” Niko asks, leaning forward to catch a whiff of the smoke.

Antonio looks at him.

”No.”

A beat passes.

”It’s weed.”

”Oh.” Niko sinks back into the sofa with a huff.

”What’s the Basilisk playing at, Wildcat?” The Don exhales a slow stream of smoke and levels Niko with a blank look. ”You know, back in my days we used to have reasons to attack each other.”

”A revolutionary concept, you guys had there,” Niko nods solemnly.

”There were turf wars over territory, money, or even revenge, but nowadays it seems your generation simply wakes up and decides to start wars for entertainment.” Antonio exhales tiredly.

”And almost no one respects the rules of the underworld anymore.”

”You’re misunderstanding, Old Man Antonio!” Niko places a solemn hand on his chest. ”Orion is the one with the authority issues, not me.”

Don Antonio’s eyes narrow at being called an old man, but his composure stays calm. ”Of course he is.”

”And I, on the other hand, am perfectly delightful.”

Antonio stares blankly at Niko. Niko stares back, eyes as calm as a lake without ripples. The old man simply cannot fathom the thick skin of this youngster.

Eventually, the Don reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, ignoring the way Niko’s eyes follow his every action, and pulls out an envelope.

”I received this yesterday.”

Niko glances down, recognizing Orion’s handwriting immediately. It’s nauseatingly perfect.

”Congratulations, Old Man.”

”It seems that all of you led by the Basilisk find being rude to be correct?”

”If you want to put it that way...?”

”Your leader sent me an invitation to play a game. I don’t recall being on bad terms with the Basilisk, or ever going against him, so what is the meaning of this, Wildcat?” Antonio tosses the envelope on the center table like it has somehow personally offended him.

The question lingers in the air like the smoke from the Don’s cigar. Niko’s smile fades, not entirely but just enough to be felt.

”Are you asking me or are you ordering me to tell you, dear Don?” He asks softly, voice dripping with lethal intent.

Antonio freezes. The cigar in his hand trembles. ”That is not what I intended, Wildcat!” He exhales the smoke in his lungs as he hurries to smooth over the misunderstanding.

”My intention was not to be rude, my friend.” The speed of his response almost makes Niko laugh.

Few people understood just how dangerous Orion truly was. Even fewer understood that Niko was often worse.

”I’ve even prepared entertainment suited to your tastes.”

Now, that catches Niko’s attention.

”Is that so?” He leans against his seat, head tilted questioningly to the side.

”Yes, of course,” Antonio visibly relaxes. ”I’ve already called him in. He should be on his way.”

”How could I let us have this meeting without any sort of entertainment for you?”

Niko says nothing in response. He keeps his gaze on Antonio, watching and waiting for the man to keep making mistakes. Mistakes he can profit from before Orion takes away his benefits.

The door opens five minutes into Niko’s fake display of intimidation. Fake to Niko, but real to Antonio. The door opens, and a lean man of above-average height steps into the room.

Immediately Niko locks eyes with him, his lips tilt slightly, but his amber eyes burn with a dark, sadistic light. The man, without breaking his stride, walks over to him and casually sinks to his knees between his legs.

”It’s a pleasure to serve the Wildcat.” He whispers, eyeing Niko with brattish confidence.

Niko is elated.

His tastes aren’t a secret in the underworld, but it’s not every day he’s just handed his ideal type. A brat he can break. The fake lethality in his gaze directed at Antonio fades.

”What’s your name, darling?” He asks softly.

”You can call me Alex.” He purrs.

”I asked for your name,” he murmurs, fingers curling threateningly into his scalp.

The man lets out a wince of pain. ”My name is Alexis, Sir.” He quickly corrects himself.

”Now isn’t that better?” He trails a hand through his hair, combing the strands gently.

Though the gesture looks gentle, the message beneath it wasn’t, and going by the faint spark of defiance in Alexis’s eyes, he understood.

”Wildcat?” Don Antonio cuts in carefully, looking deeply uncomfortable at the interaction between Niko and Alexis. ”Would you now tell me about what the Basilisk means by sending me this?”

”Fine,” Niko sighs dramatically.

After playing around and securing some entertainment, he finally deems it time to give Antonio what he wants.

”In ten minutes, Orion is going to come in alone and make his way to your study. The game is about trying to stop him”. His fingers curl into Alexis’s scalp again, but not as tightly this time.

”Alone?” The Don frowns.

”Alone.”

”And then?”

”It’s up to you to send your best men to stop him. If he’s stopped then you win with no repercussions, but if he makes his way to you, then you owe him three debts.”

”You send every guard, every soldier, and every hidden assassin you have, Old Man, because if they succeed, you win.”

”Win what?”

”No consequences, plus the head of the Basilisk with no repercussions whatsoever.”

Antonio, a true old timer of the underworld, ponders on Niko’s words for a full ten minutes. He searches for any hidden meanings or traps and comes up empty.

”Why would the Basilisk waste his time doing this? What exactly does he want from me?” He decides to be straightforward about his questions.

For the first time since entering the room, Niko’s amusement softened. His amber eyes sharpen into something colder. Something more predatory.

”Tell me something, Antonio,” his voice lowers. ”How much do you know about your younger brother’s hobbies?”

”My younger brother? What does he have to do with anything?”

”Well,” Niko hums as he playfully taps Alexis’s nose, ”Orion has recently become very interested in the fact that your brother seems to enjoy collecting young runaway boys.”

Antonio stills.

Niko’s lips stretch into a smile that holds all the warmth of a knife. ”And to be honest, I too have some interest...”

”Because even though I enjoy breaking brats, I prefer them to be of legal age, if you understand what I’m saying, Antonio.”