“Sounds good. Now, how about we head back before it gets any later?” Joey nods and then continues the long drive.
It’s late by the time we pull through the gates. “Thank you all for what you have done.”
Stepping into my house, I release a sigh of pure contentment. “I’ll address the staff in the morning. Right now, I just want my bed,” I say to Martin. “Please give Joey a room.”
“Yes, sir.” I walk up to my bedroom and see that everything has been aired out and cleaned. It’s wonderful to be in my damn cozy bed. Two years of that shitty mattress almost broke my ass more than anything else.
Chapter Two
Giada
“Be a good girl, and maybe my parents will let you come out of your room for a bit while I’m gone,” Rafael says, zipping up his pants after tucking himself inside. Per his commands, I watch him get dressed even though I find him absolutely repulsive. Not only does he know it, but he truly takes a perverse pleasure in making me uncomfortable. I’ve grown accustomed to the way he operates, so most days I stare at his shoes. That’s the only part of him that’s appealing because that means he’s leaving.
God, the man is a total patronizing asshole. “When can I call my family?”
He fixes his ugly purple tie that costs more than any piece of clothing I own, and then turns back to me with a raised brow. He’s smug and filthy. “Why would you want to do that? To tell them how bad your life is here?” He turns back to his reflection, smiling through the mirror. I’d love to shatter that thing into a million pieces. I bet he’s going to his mistress right after me. I only hate her because she gets freedom. I’m not even concerned about their relationship as long as he doesn’t bring an STI to me.
I scoff, knowing full well that my family wouldn’t give a damn how I’m treated as long as there’s a truce between the families and money to be made. “Why? They wouldn’t save me.” They willingly sold me to the devil.
“Exactly, so just stop asking.” He rolls his suit jacket over his shoulders, giving no fucks about me at all. I feel like punching him in the dick, but I’d probably pay big time. He looks at himself in the mirror, arching his brow and checking his face like he’s somehow going to look good. Does he really believe that he’s attractive?
“Am I ever going to have a friend?” I’m not sure why I’m pushing it today, but I can’t stop myself. Maybe it’s the constant solitude. I’d prefer the loneliness if it meant I never had to feel his hands or body on me. There’s a lot I’d suffer through to be away from him.
He turns around and walks toward me. Once he’s directly in front of me, he sets his knee on the edge of the bed and leans in closely. “You’ll have our babies. Once that’s done...well...maybe you can make friends with Faustino or Gino.” He winks so I understand fully what he means, and I do.
He’s struck a nerve like he wanted. My eyes narrow as I lose my temper. “You’re such a—” He reaches out and grabs my cheeks with one hand, squeezing my mouth painfully.
“Such a what? I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talking to. I’m your husband, and you’ll learn a little respect or next time I’ll make sure you can’t sit for a week.” He roughly lets go, shoving me backward onto the bed. I rub my jaw, and he laughs as he moves back to the dresser.
“I’ll be back in two days for another thorough fucking. You better be ready for an all-day session. I’m tired of waiting for you to get pregnant. It’s good sperm wasted. Now, don’t move until it goes off.” He reaches over and grabs the egg timer and turns it to fifteen minutes—the length of time I have left before I’m allowed out of bed to clean up after myself. I toss my head back on the pillow with my legs up in the air and a big pillow under my ass. The sound of the door closes and the lock clicking shut gives way to the pain of my situation.
When Rafael Marchetti is mad, I know that I’ll pay with new bruises. At five seven, he’s a mean little bastard, using his fists to make up for his other inadequacies.
As a mob boss, he keeps his appearance impeccable to show his control. He doesn’t leave until he looks completely put together, even when he’s going to visit his dollar-fifty whore. I wish he’d go to his room to do it. We don’t share a bedroom, thankfully. If he didn’t enjoy his own privacy away from me, he’d sleep in the same bed just to spite me.
As his wife, I take what I’m given and deal with it, or there will be consequences if he doesn’t like something I say or do. Some days, I don’t put up a fight and that makes him angry, so he is even more violent.
His refusal to let me contact my parents doesn’t surprise me. Not that I genuinely want to talk to them, but I need a lifeline somewhere. I’m running out of patience and hope for a change in my situation.
Some days the air in this room is suffocating to the point I’m choking on the pain of the silence. Worse is when I wake up to the nightmares of my wedding night when he beat me after he failed to get off. It took him six tries to break through my hymen with his little cock, and it set him into
