Page 3 of Stolen Wife

Chapter Two

Giada

“Be a good girl, andmaybe 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 a rage. I can still remember the pain of his entry over and over.

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.

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