My family and his made it so I had no other recourse or resource to find a life away from Rafael. My parents run a prostitution and gambling business. I’m certain now more than ever that they also dabble in human trafficking. They were so willing to do it to me that they’d totally be cool with selling someone who isn’t family.
I wipe away the tears that fall unwillingly down my face when I think about my fate.
Unwilling—like everything in my life.
I’d never let him see me cry, but the moment he’s gone, I let them pour down my pink, tear-stained cheeks. I’m not sure if he’d laugh or get angry if he came back, but he won’t even bother to come back. He’s done what he came to do and that’s it.
I hate my husband with a passion so great I can barely make it through the day. Hate is an understatement of epic proportions. I want him dead, and I’d do it myself, but I don’t have anywhere to run if I killed the bastard. I have no money, no friends, no family, and would create more enemies than I can count.
Did I ever really have a family? They threw me to the wolves, selling me out for pennies on the dollar.
A life for leniency.
A life for ties to more power.
They didn’t get the power, and I got a man who hate-fucks me like a used-up whore who disgusts him so much that he can’t finish half the time.
His reaction to me is insane because as far as I’ve ever known, I’m considered a prize, beautiful compared to the most gorgeous women in Hollywood, but my husband doesn’t treat me like he won a prize. Instead, he lives like he suffers every second in my presence.
The bastard has way too many allies and enemies in this world. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to leave the house and meet his enemies. Hell, I haven’t met his friends either. Our wedding was one of formality. There was no fanfare or massive ceremony for all to see. We signed papers in a courthouse with just our parents present.
The only people besides the main house staff that I’ve met are his parents. I’m betting that’s the way they want it so he can get away with the abuse and so they know I can’t turn on them. However, they have no idea that a really sharp kitchen knife would turn me into Michael Fucking Myers in a heartbeat.
Rafael also has an older brother Santino that no one in the family will mention in front of me. He’s currently in prison for the murder of a public official, but that’s all I know about him. They act like they shouldn’t be proud of their boy. After all, murder’s nothing new to them and not a disgrace. Maybe it’s the fact that he got caught.
I quietly pull the pillow out from under my ass and slide off the bed to stand so they can’t hear me. His release runs down my leg, but it’s better than being anywhere near my womb. I shiver in disgust. Why did my dad make that arrangement? Why did he force me into marrying this asshole? Nothing like a marriage between two mafia families to strengthen a truce. Now I’m stuck with a man whose throat I’d love to slit.
I can’t take a shower yet because his men literally sit outside my door to hear if I do. He wants me pregnant and having his heir. There’s family unrest. I don’t know why he just doesn’t legitimize the little baby he has with his mistress. The boy is about two years old, from what I’ve heard.
I’m more than happy for them to do that than sleep with the fucker ever again. Then again, he likes that I hate his touch. He wants me to be his unwilling wife. He gets off on the abuse. I grab the sheet and walk to the bathroom. Using a douche, I squirt out as much of his seed as I can. I don’t flush so they can’t hear me, but then I set the bottle back into the supposed hair dye kit that I’ve never used. I’m not doing it just to stop from getting pregnant, but also I want nothing to do with him and that includes his weak release.
Another shiver runs through me. Damn, it’s warm out. Why am I so damn cold? I have a feeling I’ll have my period in a couple of days, which will definitely warrant a beating.
I walk back to my bed and lie down, pretending to be resting just in case they do a surprise check-in. I sigh and cover my eyes with my forearm.
I’m locked away in my gilded cage. The room itself is absolutely stunning and looks like the room of a concubine or harem, but I’m not even his love slave. I’m an obligation. He only comes in here for one thing and once he’s done, he’s gone, and I’m trapped and disgusted.
I have only one ally in this, and it’s his lovingly wonderful mother. She’s been sneaking me birth control since my engagement. It’s the best gift I could have gotten, and I can’t even express how much it meant to me when she slipped them to me. I remember her words as clearly as the day she said them. “I don’t want you to be in my position, but we have no choice. Here. At least this will give you a chance to one day get out.” I cry thinking about the pain on her face. She may present a gentle, happy matriarch, but as someone in the same spot, I can read her like a book.
Over the months, we shared brief conversations and I learned that she didn’t marry for love. Her hand was forced, just like mine. There’s more to that story, but I haven’t been
