[BL] The Mafia Boss Wants My Body

The night turned from a celebration into a bloodbath in a matter of seconds.

As the sound of the final gunshots faded into the ocean breeze, the peaceful villa became a high-speed extraction zone. Matteo’s elite security team moved with terrifying precision. They didn’t wait for an ambulance; they couldn’t afford to.

Tony and two other bodyguards hoisted Matteo’s limp, bleeding body into the back of the car. The tires shrieked against the pavement as they sped away toward a private surgical hospital, leaving a trail of blood on the driveway.

Adrian stood paralyzed in the middle of the chaos, his hands still dripping with Matteo’s blood. He tried to move toward the car, to scream Matteo’s name, but Tony’s men blocked his path with cold, iron-hard glares. To them, Adrian wasn’t a lover, he was the distraction that had almost cost their boss his life.

"Get them out of here!" One of Tony’s men shouted, his face pale but his voice commanding as he directed the remaining guards. "Clear the villa! Now!"

The dream was over. There was no more birthday, no more proposal.

Mark grabbed Charles and Frank, his eyes flickering with a mix of pity and urgency. "Take him home. You aren’t safe here anymore. My father is sending more men, and it’s going to get ugly. I’ll call you when I can, but you have to go. Now."

Adrian felt like a rag doll as Charles and Frank pulled him toward the car. He didn’t fight them. He couldn’t. His mind was stuck on the beach, stuck on the feeling of Matteo’s body going heavy against him.

The drive back to the city was silent, broken only by Adrian’s heavy breathing. The birthday that was meant to be a new beginning had ended the same way his life had four years ago, with blood, sirens, and a weight he couldn’t escape.

By the time they reached Adrian’s apartment.

The house felt like a tomb. Adrian took a long shower, standing under the water as if it could wash everything away. When he finally came out, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. He had scrubbed them until his skin turned raw and red, but it didn’t change anything. In his mind, the blood was still there.

"He’s right," Adrian whispered, his voice hollow. "I’m bad luck. Everyone I love... they end up bleeding."

For two days, the world went dark. Matteo had been rushed to a private surgical wing, and Tony had made sure Adrian’s name was on the "No Entry" list. Every time Adrian closed his eyes, he saw Matteo lunging in front of him, taking the bullet that was meant to end his own life.

Charles and Frank stayed by his side, trying to force him to eat, but Adrian barely moved.

"Adrian, stop this," Charles pleaded, sitting on the rug at his feet. "You didn’t pull that trigger. You didn’t tell those men to break in. You can’t take the blame for a mafia war."

"If I had just listened," Adrian choked out, his eyes red from crying. "If I hadn’t run away... if I hadn’t been so caught up in my own pain, we would have been inside. He wouldn’t have been standing out there. It’s my fault he’s in that hospital bed."

"Adrian, no," Charles said quickly, moving closer. "Don’t do that to yourself. You know the kind of life Matteo lives. This wasn’t about you, it was his enemies. It has nothing to do with you."

Frank stepped in as well. "Please, just try to understand. It’s not your fault, and Matteo is—"

Charles shot him a sharp, warning look.

Frank stopped immediately, going quiet.

But Adrian didn’t look convinced.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes still fixed on his hands.

No... It’s me, he thought,it always ends up being me.

On the third morning, Adrian’s phone finally buzzed. His heart jumped as he grabbed it, answering almost immediately.

"Hello?"

There was a brief pause before the voice came through.

"Adrian... It’s Mark."

He froze for a second, then sat up straighter. "Mark? Is he—"

"He’s alive, Adrian," Mark said, his voice tired. "The surgery took hours. The bullet missed his heart by an inch, but he lost a lot of blood. He’s stable now, and he’s getting the best treatment."

Adrian let out a shaky breath of relief, leaning his forehead against his knees. "Can I see him? Please, Mark. I need to see him."

There was a long, pause on the other end. "Not yet, Adrian. My father has stepped in. He’s tightened security to a level I’ve never seen. He’s furious about the breach at the villa, and right now, he’s not letting anyone in unless they’re family. Even friends aren’t allowed."

Adrian’s heart sank, the distance between their worlds suddenly felt like something real and unbreakable. "I understand."

"Listen to me," Mark said firmly. "I will reach out the second I can get you in. I promise. But for now, you need to rest. Eat something. If Matteo wakes up and sees you’ve wasted away, he won’t be happy with me for not taking care of you."

"I’ll try," Adrian replied.

"One more thing, Adrian," Mark said. "Don’t blame yourself for what happened. Matteo made a choice... to protect the person he loves. That’s not your fault. That’s just his heart."

"Okay," Adrian replied quietly. "Thank you, Mark."

He ended the call and stared out the window, his thoughts heavy but a small sense of relief settling in. Matteo was alive, that alone was enough to keep him going. At least... this time, no one died.

In the weeks that followed, Adrian made a choice.

He couldn’t go back to being the ghost of a man he was before. He decided to reclaim the life that had been put on hold. He threw himself into his work as an artist, moving his studio from a small, cramped space into a much larger one, suited for a professional.

He even made the difficult decision to move out of his apartment and back into his mansion, the house he had once fled because the memories of his wife and son were too painful. Now, he needed the space to breathe again.

********

Two days before his father’s birthday, Adrian received a call he didn’t expect. It was his father, a man who had always been cold and distant, who had already made it clear Adrian wasn’t invited, and now was personally asking him to come to the celebration.

Adrian felt a quiet excitement, so he went to the party, seeing it as a chance to be closer to his father.

The party was grand, but the atmosphere turned sharp once the guests thinned out. His father sat him down, his expression stern.

"It has been four years since you lost your wife, Adrian. It is time to marry again. He didn’t drag it out. "I want you to marry Iris."

Adrian frowned, his heart instantly retreating. He and Iris were close friends, but there was no spark of romance.

Adrian’s father said, "Only with my blessing will your next marriage be safe," his voice low with warning. "If you marry Iris, the curse will end. No one will die. But if you choose anyone else... You will lose them, just like you lost the others."

Adrian felt a chill run through him, but he shook his head. He couldn’t accept a marriage built on fear. Without saying another word, he left his father’s house that night and returned home.

Six weeks passed. Through Mark, Adrian received regular updates: Matteo had recovered. He was out of the hospital. He was fine.

Adrian waited every day for a text, a call, even a knock on the door, but nothing came. Even after knowing Matteo was okay, the silence remained.

One week passed. Then two. Then three.

After so much waiting, two months passed.

One morning, while Adrian was watching the news with Frank and Charles, they finally saw Matteo, not in person, but on the television.

He was dressed in a sharp, expensive suit, speaking with calm confidence about his shift into real estate and legitimate business. The world was already reacting, surprised by this "new Matteo," a man now focused on boardrooms instead of back alleys.

"What is going on?" Frank asked, staring at the screen. "Is he just... done with you?"

Charles glanced at the screen. "Maybe he’s just taking his time."

Adrian felt a hollow ache in his chest. As two months turned almost three, his father’s warnings began to haunt him. His sister, Maya, tried to convince him to give Iris a chance. "You aren’t dating anyone, Adrian. You and Iris already like each other as friends. Why not just try? Maybe Father is right about the blessing."

Exhausted by the silence and the pressure, Adrian finally agreed to a trial. "We can go out," he told Iris. "Just as friends first, to see if anything grows."

For the next few weeks, they fell into a quiet routine. Iris would visit Adrian’s office at the end of the day, and they would leave together. It was comfortable, easy... even if the fire he had once felt with Matteo was fading.

On the exact night that marked three months since the villa, Iris arrived at Adrian’s studio. They walked toward the elevator, their fingers loosely intertwined. The ride down was quiet, the soft hum of the elevator the only sound, until it slowed and came to a stop on one of the middle floors.

The doors slid open with a quiet chime.

The first thing that hit Adrian was the familiar scent. His breath caught as he slowly lifted his head, and the moment his eyes landed on the man standing in front of him, his heart stopped.

Standing directly in front of the elevator, flanked by two towering bodyguards, was Matteo.