My Mafia Husband

CHAPTER 18

I watch as Matteo paces back and forth across the kitchen, his free hand balled into a tight fist at his side. As I watch him, I feel a wave of revulsion wash over me, my stomach churning at the sight of him. I wonder if this is a glimpse into the real Matteo, the one he keeps hidden behind his charming facade.

Finally, Matteo ends the call, his face hard and cold as he turns to face me. I feel a knot of fear tighten in my stomach as he approaches me, my body instinctively tensing.

Matteo stops in front of me, his towering frame intimidating, and I feel a wave of trepidation wash over me. His eyes rake over me, his gaze clinical and devoid of warmth. He reaches out and grabs my chin, forcing my face up to look at him.

I try to pull away, but his grip on my chin tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh. "You look tired," he observes, his voice low and threatening. "Did you sleep well?" I can feel the threat behind his words, a reminder of the power he holds over me.

I swallow hard, my mind racing as I try to come up with a response that won't anger him further. "Y-yes," I manage to mumble, my voice shaking slightly. "I slept fine." Matteo's lips curl into a smirk, his grip on my chin tightening further.

"Good," he purrs, his voice thick with false sweetness. "I don't want you to neglect your beauty sleep. You need to look your best, especially for me." His words make my skin crawl, and I can feel bile rising in my throat.

I try to pull away again, but Matteo's grip is too tight, his fingers digging bruises into my skin. "Let me go," I gasp, my voice barely above a whisper. Matteo's smile widens, and he leans in closer, his face inches from mine.

"Is that any way to address your husband?" he taunts, his voice laced with venom. His breath is hot against my face, and I feel my body shaking with fear and revulsion.

Without warning, Matteo leans in and plants a kiss on my forehead, his lips cold and calculating. It's a gesture that's meant to be possessive, a display of ownership over me.

With a final squeeze of my chin, Matteo releases me and steps back, a satisfied smirk on his lips. I take a deep breath, feeling nauseous as his cold eyes bore into me. "Now, go freshen up. Breakfast will be ready soon," he orders, nodding towards the stairs.

My body is stiff with fear and revulsion, and I nod weakly before quickly making my way out of the room, anxious to escape Matteo and his cold, possessive gaze.

As I make my way up the stairs, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath coming in short gasps. The thought of being in the same room with Matteo makes me sick to my core. I try to push away the panic creeping up my spine, but my mind is bombarded with thoughts of his possessive grip and controlling demeanor.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I force myself to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.

I make my way to the bathroom, the door closing behind me with a soft click. I lean against the door, the cool wood against my back providing a small measure of comfort. I turn on the faucet and splash some cold water on my face, hoping it will help me collect my thoughts.

As I watch the water drip from my face, I remember Anna's words from the night before. I know I need to find a way to escape Matteo's grip, but it feels impossible. The thought of facing his wrath and his relentless pursuit makes my stomach churn with fear.

I know that I won't be safe as long as I'm under Matteo's control, but I don't know how to break free from his hold. I feel trapped, stuck between a rock and a hard place. I let out a deep sigh, feeling despair threatening to overtake me.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my face pale and drawn. I feel like a prisoner in my own life, my every move dictated by Matteo's whims and desires. The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

But as I look at myself, a flicker of defiance sparks in my heart. I can't let him win. I can't let him break me. I square my shoulders, summoning all the strength I have left. I will never give up.

I walk to the kitchen table.

I take a deep breath before stepping into the dining room, where Matteo is already seated at the table. The air feels heavy, and I can feel Matteo's eyes on me as I take my seat next to him. He motions for me to start eating, and I pick up my fork with trembling fingers.

I force myself to eat, taking small bites as I try to avoid Matteo's gaze. Every bite feels like a struggle, my stomach churning with anxiety. I can feel Matteo's constant surveillance, his eyes tracking my every move.

I can feel Matteo's stare burning into me, his eyes studying me intently. I try to focus on my food, but every bite feels like a chore, the tension in the air making it nearly impossible to swallow. I can sense Matteo's growing impatience, his fingers tapping against the tabletop incessantly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask.

Matteo's eyes narrow, and he leans forward, his body language exuding a chilling air of control. "Like what?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm just looking at my wife. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, it's make me uncomfortable so keep your eyes on your dish." I say.

Matteo's eyes narrow further, and I can see a flicker of anger in his gaze. He leans back in his chair, his body tense and rigid. "Is that so?" he asks coolly. "And what makes you think you have any say over where I look?"

My heart races in my chest, my body tensing at his words. I know that challenging Matteo is dangerous, but I can't back down now. I meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to look away. "Because I'm your wife," I say firmly. "And I deserve to be treated with respect."