Forced To Marry The Ruthless Mafia Lord

8

Catherine's POV.

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. My head Burt and it was hard to open my eyes past the dry tears sitting on my lashes. I'd stayed awake for as long as I could, scared that he'd come back to the room and forcefully take me, in fact I was still seriously surprised that he didn't just do that in the first place.

My married cousins had warned me about the ruthlessness of made men, about how more than once their husbands had forced them into having sex even when they weren't interested.

That was what I'd expected and what I'd prepared for, so him up and leaving all of sudden left me puzzled and scared. I quickly sit up and check myself for handprints scars and even the slightest bit of unease anywhere that would indicate that I'd been forced into something. But there was nothing, no handprints, no scars, no aches. Did Damien, one of the most ruthless Capo's in the Outfit really leave me alone for the night?

I sort though various reasons he would do something like this. Maybe he didn't find me attractive? No he'd been hard last night, I'd felt it when it carried me and even in my frightened state I'd known what that was... even if I wasn't some exotic beauty I was something to be looked at if the catcalls from men were anything to lead by.

And then the things he'd said. He'd called me his. Specifically my boy, but he was still trying to claim ownership of me, and yes much like anything concerning the Capo it scared me a little, but a small part of me not yet completely damaged by my brother loved how those words sounded in his mouth.

Mine...

I slouch on my seat, puzzled by everything but very relieved but before I can even think of showering and finding something to do with myself and my husband strides in, looking distinctly ruffled and reeking of alcohol. I jolt and shuffle back into the bed, already frightened by the intensity of his presence alone, he eyes me when I shift back, with the distinct look of irritation in his bottle green eyes, then he looks away and walks over to the curtains on the other side of the room and pulls them open, letting the golden sunlight from outside stream into the room.

I watch him move about, shedding his wrinkled white shirt that even from here reeked of beer, then slipping into his giant walk-in closet in search of new clothes.

Did he go drinking last night? I wrinkle my nose the memory of the odour. He didn't see drunk or even hungover so I wasn't sure. But then either way it wasn't my business was it?

"Get dressed," he orders suddenly as he walks back in, dressed in a black sweater and dark pants. He spares me another annoyed look.

So far it seemed he found me irritating. Maybe that was why he didn't sleep with me last night? Not that I was honestly complaining, I didn't mind if he found me irritating so long as he wasn't trying to touch me like that again.

I watch him walk towards the door and I scramble around to find something to wear. My suitcase was downstairs so I had no clothes with me at the moment, my eyes dart about the room, then fall on a white shirt draped over a chair, I grab it and tuck it over my head just as he reaches for the door handle. He eyes me, clenches his jaw then turns away to open the door.

I feel a jolt of fear as two large men and a tall, slender woman walk in. None of them meet my eyes, rather their focus is on Damien who moves to stand next to the headboard of the bed. I shuffle a little on my feet then lace my fingers together, unsure of what was going on.

"This is Lydia," he points as the woman, she smiles at me and I muster up a fake one. "She's your personal maid. She'll assist you with anything you need and she'll make sure you're comfortable while you're here, cooking, cleaning and the like will be handled by her and the other help that come twice a week."

My lips part and before I could tell him how I had no use for a maid he waves to the two stoic men next to her. "This is Ross and Jack. They're responsible for your security. They'll follow you everywhere and anywhere you need to do and they'll keep watch while you're at home and I'm not. They'll also drive you anywhere if need be."

"But-" I start, but he cuts me off once again by looking to them instead.

"Everyone this is my wife, Cathrine. Remember what I told you yesterday," he says to them and they all nod as one.

I watch him speak to them, tall, handsome with hay dark aura constantly hanginng around him, I should be scared of it but... I felt like I was being pulled towards him instead.

"I have some business to attend to this morning and it'll take up most of my day, so I'll be off now," he says then walks over to the cabinet pulls out a black card and phone then hands them over to me.

Once again I try to wave off his gifts but the steely look I'm his eyes stop me, and I accept them with a muffled thanks. He nods at me, then at the help and with smooth long steps he's out of the room.



Lydia helps me draw my bath and picks out my clothes, while to many in the outfit this is normal and expected of a personal maid I find it odd and a bit disarming. Dad insisted I was a waste of resources so he never once let me get a maid or any help, not like it was that bad but now that I did have someone doing these thing for me I felt off.

I walked downstairs after getting dressed to see her making breakfast, toast and eggs and bacon and a piping hot mug of coffee. The scents from the kitchen nearly make me groan out load but I control myself and instead move to the table to eat.

"Thank you Lydia," I say and unceremoniously shove a forkful of eggs into my mouth. She chuckles and starts cleaning up as I eat.

"It's no problem Mrs. Favaloro," she replied, scrubbing the pans she just used dutifully.

I purse my lips then lean forward a bit on the kitchen island. "Lydia..."

"Yes ma'am," she says turning quickly.

"You know you don actually need to help me right? I won't tell Damien you can just–"

"That's out of the question ma'am," she says quickly then spins away.

I ponder on he words for a minute then spin my fork around on the table. "How'd you start working for Damien?"

She pauses mid scrub, then slowly continues. "I'd rather not say ma'am."

And it goes on like that. Me pressing her for answers and her keeping her lips  firmly pressed together. She's not much for conversation so soon I give up lean back into the stool and eat and then finally I dig through my bag for the numbers I wrote down  and call my little brother who sobs over the phone.