My Mafia Husband

CHAPTER 15

The night drags on, every second feeling agonizingly slow. Matteo is always by my side, his presence feeling more like a guard dog than a husband. I do my best to act cheerful and engaged, but every fake smile feels more forced than the last. I look around the room, seeing the people around me laughing and chatting, while I feel completely empty and disconnected.

As the night wears on, I find myself feeling more trapped and suffocated than ever before. Matteo's presence is suffocating, his constant scrutiny and control crushing any sense of freedom or autonomy I have left. I long for a moment alone, free from the weight of his expectations and demands.

Eventually, the event comes to a close, and we finally head back home. As soon as we step through the doorway, Matteo turns to me with a cold and critical gaze. "You could have been more engaged tonight," he says, his voice sharp. "Your performance was subpar."

"Too bad it's not like I had the force for it" I say.

"That is a poor excuse," Matteo snaps, his eyes narrowing in anger. "You are expected to be the perfect wife in public, and your behavior tonight was far from it. You must always put on your best performance, no matter how you feel. I cannot have my wife appearing anything less than perfect."

"Nobody's perfect Matteo if you want to keep pretending like this it's going to be suspicious." I respond.

Matteo's eyes flare with anger as I challenge his expectations. "I do not expect you to be perfect, but what I saw tonight was not even remotely close," he says, his voice cold. "You will do better next time, or there will be consequences. Understand?" Matteo's threat hangs in the air, a reminder that he has complete control over our relationship. I suppress the desire to stand up for myself and simply nod wordlessly.

"Good," Matteo says, his anger simmering down. "Now go get some rest, we have another event tomorrow, and I expect nothing short of perfection from you." Without another word, he walks away towards his study, leaving me standing in the dimly lit hallway alone with my thoughts.

I take a deep breath, feeling the exhaustion and frustration slowly sink in. The weight of Matteo's expectations and demands is becoming unbearable. I feel like I'm suffocating under the pressure to be perfect, and it's taking a toll on me. As I head to my room, I try to push the thoughts aside and focus on getting some much-needed rest.

The next day is the same: another public event, more fake smiles, and countless hours of being on display. Despite my exhaustion, Matteo's expectations never waver. I try to hide my discomfort and fatigue, but I can feel my energy draining with each forced smile and scripted conversation.

After the event, Matteo drags me along to a cocktail party, where we meet with important business associates and politicians. I feel like a doll, being paraded around and showing off Matteo's wealth and status. But beneath my smile and polite chatter, I can feel my spirit slowly breaking down.

Matteo schmoozes with the other guests, his arm possessively wrapped around me like a prized possession. I force myself to play my role alongside him, engaging in small talk and nodding in agreement to whatever he says. But inside, I am slowly crumbling under the weight of his controlling presence and the constant scrutiny.

As the night drags on, I find myself feeling more and more detached and drained. Matteo doesn't seem to notice my growing discomfort, too focused on his own self-absorbed conversations. His grip on my arm feels like a vice, holding me hostage in this glamorous yet suffocating world of power and wealth.

I feel Matteo's hands gets tight on my thigh.

Matteo's grip on my thigh tightens as he leans in closer, his eyes gleaming with possessive desire. He whispers something in my ear, but I don't hear his words over the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I try to force a smile, but it feels strained and forced.

"Smile, Tina," Matteo says coldly, his words a reminder of the role I'm expected to play. "You're supposed to be enjoying yourself." His gaze is chilling, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. I force a fake smile, feeling more trapped and degraded than ever before. Matteo grins, clearly satisfied with my reaction to his command.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of forced conversation and fake smiles. I feel like a robot, mechanically going through the motions and saying the right things. Matteo's possessive grip on my thigh never relents, a constant reminder of his control and power over me.

Finally, the night comes to a close, and we return home. Matteo's mood has shifted, and he becomes more distant and irritable as we drive home. Once we are back in the privacy of the mansion, Matteo stalks off towards his study, not even bothering to say goodnight.

I head back to my room, feeling a mix of relief and despair. I am grateful for the solitude, but I am also deeply troubled by Matteo's possessive and controlling behavior. I am trapped in a marriage with a man who sees me as nothing more than an accessory, a tool to be used and manipulated for his own convenience.

As I lay down on the bed, I gaze at the ceiling, feeling a sense of emptiness and despair. Matteo's words and actions have left me feeling defeated and powerless. I long for a way out of this nightmare, but I can't see any way to escape Matteo's grasp. The thought of spending the rest of my life as his property fills me with dread and hopelessness.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on my door.

Startled, I sit up in bed, my heart racing. "Who is it?" I call out, my voice shaking slightly.

The door creaks open, and Matteo appears in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim light in the hall. Without saying a word, he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. His presence is immediately overpowering, and I feel a knot form in my stomach. What does he want now?