My Mafia Husband

CHAPTER 20

"You think you can defy me, huh?" he hisses, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can challenge me and get away with it? Well, you're wrong."

I try to speak, to protest or explain myself, but my voice catches in my throat, and all I can manage is a strangled gasp. Matteo's grip on my hair tightens, and he yanks me closer to him, leaning in so our faces are just inches apart.

"You are mine," he growls, his eyes burning with a fierce possessiveness. "And I will not tolerate your disobedience. You will obey me, no matter what. Do you understand?"

I nod weakly, my body trembling with fear and submission. Matteo's grip on my hair loosens, and he shoves me roughly back onto the bed. He stands over me, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with anger.

"You're lucky I didn't do something worse," he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. "But don't mistake my leniency for weakness. I'm only giving you this chance to correct your mistake. Don't push your luck again, or the consequences will be severe."

Matteo turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I watch him go, a mixture of relief and terror flooding through my body. I lie on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart and still my shaking limbs.

The events of the day have left me feeling drained and emotionally raw. I sink back into the bed, pulling the covers tightly around me, as if the thin fabric could provide any sort of protection against Matteo's cold, possessive control.

Sleep doesn't come easily that night. I lie in bed, my eyes wide open, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. The sound of Matteo's footsteps pacing back and forth on the floorboards outside my room continues to haunt me, his presence a constant reminder of my precarious situation.

Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I sink into a restless sleep, tormented by nightmares of Matteo's cruel grip and possessive gaze. The night is long and filled with uneasy dreams, and I wake up feeling more drained than when I went to sleep.

As I sit up in bed, the memory of Matteo's behavior the previous day floods my mind, and I suddenly feel like I'm drowning in despair. I know that I can't go on living like this, under Matteo's stifling and suffocating control. But the thought of defying him again fills me with a paralysing terror.

I pull myself out of bed, my body heavy with exhaustion and fear. I glance at myself in the mirror, and the sight of my haunted eyes and pale face sends a shiver down my spine. The realization that I'm trapped in this nightmare for the unforeseen future weighs heavily on me, and it takes every ounce of strength I have left to keep moving forward.

I decided to walk to the kitchen telling myself that maybe cooking will help me to calm myself a bit.

I make my way to the kitchen, the room feeling like a cold, sterile place. But as I start to cook, chopping and stirring the ingredients, I start to feel a sense of relaxation wash over me. It's as if the simple act of cooking is helping to calm my frayed nerves, allowing me to momentarily forget about Matteo and the heavy weight of his control.

As I cook, my mind starts to clear, and I begin to feel a flicker of defiance stirring within me. I know that I can't let Matteo continue to hold power over every aspect of my life, and I begin to wonder what I can do to fight back and regain some semblance of independence and autonomy.

I'm lost in my thoughts when I suddenly hear the sound of approaching footsteps. My heart pounds in my chest as I turn around to see Matteo standing in the doorway, watching me with a cool, calculating gaze.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low and controlled. I can feel the tension in the air as he steps into the kitchen, his presence dominating the small space.

"I was just cooking," I reply, my voice faltering slightly as I try to keep my fear and anxiety in check. Matteo takes a step towards me, his eyes fixed on mine, his expression unreadable.

He comes to stand beside me, his body almost touching mine. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and I struggle to keep my composure under his intense gaze. "Making dinner for me, are you?" he asks, his voice laced with mock sweetness.

"No, not for you" I respond.

Matteo's expression darkens at my reply, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Then who is it for?" he asks, his tone dripping with possessiveness. "Who else are you cooking for?"

"For myself isn't that obvious" I say.

Matteo's anger simmers just below the surface, his fists clenching at his sides. "You're not allowed to cook for yourself," he snaps, his voice cold and harsh. "Everything you do, you do for me. You are my wife and you belong to me."

I look at him up and down.

Matteo notices my gaze and takes a step closer, looming over me with an possessive air. "You dare to look at me like that?" he hisses, his eyes darkening with anger and desire.

I feel a mixture of fear and defiance surging through me as Matteo continues to stare at me intensely. His body is pressed tightly against mine, his breath hot against my face. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, the proximity of his body igniting a conflicting mix of emotions within me.

"Can't you just let me cook?" I say.

Matteo's eyes flash with a hint of anger at my question, but he stays silent for a moment, as if contemplating his response. "Fine," he says, his voice low and gruff. "But don't think this means you're off the hook. You still belong to me, and I will not tolerate any more defiance from you." He steps back, giving me some space to cook. But his eyes remain fixated on me, watching my every move closely.

With Matteo's intense gaze still fixed on me, I return to cooking, my hands shaking slightly from the mixture of fear and defiance coursing through me. I can feel his eyes burning into my back, a constant reminder of his control over me.

As I continue to cook, I can hear Matteo moving around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, his presence a constant reminder of my precarious situation. Every clink of a dish or sound of cupboard door closing makes me jump, and I can feel the tension in the air growing thicker by the minute.