My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE I was already in bed, curled up beneath the covers, ready to call it a night when I heard the door open.My husband, stepped inside, already unbuttoning his shirt, the muscles along his chest tense, jaw set in that way that told me something had happened again."Dante?" I called his name. He said nothing. Just let the shirt fall to the floor, forgotten.I looked at him. My heart ached in ways I couldn’t name. He always came to me like this when the weight of his world grew too heavy. And yet, no matter how long I held my gaze on him, no matter how much affection I offered in silence… he never looked back.He walked to me with purpose, eyes shadowed, and without warning, he grabbed me and slammed me down against the bed."Ngh!" I gasped softly, not from fear, but from the force of it.He flipped me over, pushing my face into the mattress, one hand keeping me pinned there while the other found the clasp of my lingerie. The fabric gave way under his touch, fallin

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE By the time I stepped out of the bath, the air had cooled. I wrapped myself in a silk robe, the ivory fabric brushing against my sore skin with every movement. I passed the mirror without pausing. I didn’t need to look again. The bruises were still there, fresh, shadowed, pressed into my hips, my neck like fingerprints. It was late. I could’ve gone to bed. But instead, I went to the kitchen and brewed his tea. Jasmine, he never asked for it, but I always brought it when he worked late. A small act of care. Or habit. Or something in between. Balancing the tray with both hands, I made my way to his office. The door was unlocked. He never locked it from me. I stepped inside quietly. Dante stood with his back to me, facing the window, phone in one hand. He didn’t turn when I entered, but I knew he’d heard me. He always did. I placed the tray on the edge of his desk, no clatter, no disruption. Just soft porcelain on dark wood. His gaze slid towar

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE The garden was quiet.I had only taken a few bites when I heard footsteps behind me, measured, deliberate, but not threatening.I didn’t turn until the shadow stopped a few feet from the bench.A man.Tall. Sharp jaw, sun-kissed skin. A black collared shirt under his tailored suit jacket.He looked too young to be standing in this garden, too untainted.He shifted slightly, trying not to meet my eyes directly. “Apologies, Señora. I didn’t mean to intrude.”I studied him over the rim of my glass. His eyes were a soft hazel, alert but uncertain. Not like the others.“You’re new,” I said quietly.He nodded. “Assigned two days ago.”“To guard me?”“Yes, ma’am.”I offered him the faintest smile, turning my gaze back to the roses.“They never usually assign someone this young.”He paused, unsure if he should respond.So I asked, soft and casual, “How old are you?”He blinked, caught off-guard by the question. “Uh, twenty-four.”Younger than me.I hummed, brushing cru

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE The bed dipped under his weight.He didn’t say a word.Just shoved my knees apart with a force that bordered on reverence, and rage.His mouth was on my cunt, no warning, no build-up, just his tongue, hot and unrelenting, lapping at me like he needed to erase something he didn’t understand.My breath hitched, hips twitching, but he pinned them down with both hands, fingers digging into the bruises he left earlier. He sucked hard, tongue flattening, then curling with purpose. The ache was instant, sharp, spreading through my thighs like wildfire.“Nnnh-” I whimpered, soft, too soft, like my throat forgot how to scream.He didn’t stop.Not even when my legs shook.Not even when I bit down hard on my lip just to keep the sound in.He pulled back only when he felt me clench around nothing, when the tension curled and snapped behind my navel. And when he did, his mouth gliste

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEThe bathwater had long gone cold.I rinsed myself carefully, wincing as I moved. Each bruise, each raw scrape, felt like a mark of passage. A reminder of his hands. His mouth. His name pressed into my skin until there was no space left untouched.When I stepped out, I wrapped the towel around my chest and stared at the mirror just long enough to see the aftermath. Faint bite along my collarbone. Fingerprints ghosted across my waist. Thighs marked red.I didn’t hide them.Not tonight.I chose a dress that clung softly to my figure, pale lilac, delicate enough that the bruises bloomed just faintly beneath the fabric. I combed my hair back, clean and damp, letting it fall naturally behind me.Like always.But something in the air was different.The hallway was quiet as I made my way toward the kitchen, barefoot, the ache between my legs pulsing with each step.I wasn’t expec