12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Serena
I am sore in places I didn't know you could be sore. Emilio has corrupted all my innocence over the past couple of days. The brand left on my chest is slowly healing but still hurts to touch.
When I woke up this morning, Emilio was already gone, and he left the bedroom door wide open. I guess that is his way of showing me I have a bit more freedom.
Josephine strides in with a tray. She sits it down and opens the blinds, giving me a soft smile, making her words seem less harsh. "Boss has a personal shopper coming with racks of clothes for you to try on. They will also bring someone who does hair and makeup with them. These things will be provided for you."
"He left bedroom door unlocked this morning. What does that mean?"
"Boss said you are free to roam the grounds, but if you try to run away, he will take your sweet mother, and she will pay for your insubordination. Please don't push him to do something he will regret later." Josephine reaches out and puts her hand over mine. "Just do as he asks and don't give him a hard time. He won't hurt you if you comply with his wishes."
I look down at the floor, trying not to give away my anger at her words. Sure, I’m pissed at Emilio’s constant dictates, but she's been decent to me, and I don't want to give her a hard time. It's not her fault that her boss is a jerk.
"You may roam the entire house except his office. Boss has instructed you to wear modest clothes only. The shoppers are going to replace all of his clothes as well, and if you tamper with them again, he says…” She pauses, as if it pains her to repeat his warning. "He's going to give you an ass spanking." Josephine's cheeks turn bright red as she hurries out of the room.
The asshole is allowing me to get up and roam the grounds because he knows I won't risk my family by running. When I get an opening, I intend to strike back and get away from him, even if it kills me. How dare he threaten my mom? Valerie Martinelli never hurt anyone, and I will die before I allow someone to harm her because of me.
I spend the morning trying to come up with a plan on how to get along with the man who has become my husband. As I try to find a weakness in a man as hard as Emilio, I think over what I know about him. Nothing comes to mind.
Deciding to take a fresh approach to getting to him, I devise a plan. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so at lunchtime, I go to the kitchen to find Josephine.
She looks at me stunned when I explain I want to cook dinner. My mother's recipe for meatballs and minestrone soup will be on the menu.
Today, with appointments for a haircut and personal shopping, feels like the right day to do it. I'll be made over to his liking. With a good meal in his stomach, he should warm up to me more and see that I'm putting a real effort in here. Plus, it’s better than placating him with sex.
Josephine looks at me for a moment, thinking my request over, before she agrees and even offers to help.
"I really want to do this on my own, but if you could get me the ingredients I need, I would appreciate it."
She gives me a warm smile and agrees to have a grocery order delivered.
The hair and makeup stylists, as well as the personal shoppers, come and basically give me a makeover. They never ask my opinion and fill the closet with clothes that have already been decided on by them or Emilio.
Once everyone leaves, I throw on an apron and get to work in the kitchen, seasoning the ground beef and rolling out meatballs. My mother is always the one who cooks, so I'm not exactly practiced at it, although I’ve helped her frequently enough to know what I’m doing. By the time I'm done, it's almost time for Emilio to come home, and I can’t help but feel proud of how everything turned out.
I set the table, and Josephine even directs me to where I can find candles. Running upstairs, I freshen up, even though my makeup and hair are already done. Tonight needs to be perfect because something has to give. If Emilio can't give me more than orgasms, I need to get away from here.
As the evening progresses, I realize two things. One, my husband doesn't care enough to communicate with me, and two, I wasted my time trying to get him to care. As the meal gets cold, I clean up and throw away the dinner that I slaved over.
Our argument must have made him angrier than I thought, because after I threatened to take any child born from this fucked-up union away from him, I haven’t seen nor heard from my husband.
Weeks pass and Emilio still doesn’t appear. Each morning, after I wake up alone, I get dressed and go down to the kitchen, where I have breakfast with Josephine. In my husband’s absence, Antonio has remained around the house, and now he stands in the corner, glaring daggers of hatred toward me.
After two weeks of not seeing or hearing from my husband, I’m finally at breaking point. "Josephine, where is he?"
"He hasn't been sleeping here. I don't know where he's been. I get a call or text with instructions and that's all I know," she whispers.
My mind runs wild. He's sleeping somewhere else, maybe with someone else. Rage and jealousy vibrate out of me from the core of my being.
"Motherfucker!" I scream as I throw a glass at the kitchen wall. The sound of shattering glass fills the air.
Walking up to Antonio, who is standing over in the corner with his searing glare, I grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Antonio, where the fuck is my husband?"
"He's been called away."
"You can tell him to go fuck himself."
Antonio finds this funny.
"I want my life back. If he can go fuck around with anyone he wants, I should be able to go back to my job and life. Get him on the phone, Antonio. Tell him I demand to speak to him."
Stomping away, I hear the clicking of my heels on the floor as I go back upstairs. Nausea burns in my throat and my stomach.
The thought of Emilio having sex with other women hurts. Reaching up, I rub the ache in my chest. How did I allow myself to get attached to someone in such a short period of time? Someone who is a psychopath and doesn't give a shit about me or my family. It’s obvious he was just using me. The last straw is him threatening to take my mother and then ghosting me. She's the backbone of my family, and we would all die to protect her.
Slowly I go into my bathroom, take a hot shower and then get into my comfy bed, where all I want to do is sleep away the sadness. Why do I miss that asshole so much? He's been out sleeping with whores, I'm sure, so why would I miss him? I'm an idiot, that's why.
A sound rouses me from sleep, and I open my eyes, realizing it's the middle of the night. Not knowing what time it is, but being startled by the sound, I look around the room and notice a shadow approaching the bed.
"You want to leave me, Little Storm?"
"Emilio?"
"Wife. You want to leave me?"
He doesn't sound like himself, but he eases his way closer to me and with the shimmer of moonlight coming through the bedroom window, I catch sight of a raggedy-looking Emilio. His hair is too long and messy. A beard covers the lower part of his face, as if he hasn't shaved since I last saw him. His clothes are wrinkled, and the smell of stale alcohol wafts off him.
"Why are you here, Emilio? And how did you get into my room? It was blocked with a chair."
"You can't escape me; I will always find you." My husband sounds very melancholy.
"I'm so tired, Emilio. Please, just stop this. Give me an annulment and go on with your life."
"No, never," he declares loudly.
"You've been out fucking whores and doing God knows what, and you expect to come back to me now?"
A smirk appears on Emilio’s lips. "I’ve missed you, wife."
Motherfucker. He didn't deny he was out with other women. "Get the fuck out of my room. Now. Let me go. I don't want to be married to you. I hate you and want to go home."
"This is our room. I live here, remember? You can return home, to work; I’ll even let you see your family, but you will eventually come back home—to me."
"My family's safety is more important than my own, and I will never compromise that."
"Of course you wouldn't, Little Storm. You can go back to your job, your life, but I will be back for you when I’m able. Be ready. Business requires me to leave the country, and I don't know how long I'll be gone. I don't share my things, and you are my most priceless possession. Any man who steals from me gets their hands cut off, so remember that if you let anyone touch you, they will die."
He gets up and walks to my bedroom door, only to pause and turn to face me.
"When I get back, you are coming home. I won't hear otherwise, and we will be addressing your bad behavior."
Yeah, but who is going to address your bad behavior? Jerk.
With that, my husband walks away from me. He’s finally given me my freedom, but why does it feel wrong to leave here? Wrong to leave him.