Chapter 4 Meeting the Mafia Boss

I was paralyzed with fear. They really were going to finally sell me off, huh? So much for my nonexistent luck.

When I had my bath, I'd scrubbed myself until my skin burned and turned red when I had my bath last night. I tried to wash off the slimy cum on my laps, but no matter how many times I rubbed the soap on my body, I still felt dirty and used.

This was my last night in this house that was home to me until two years ago. The four walls of this room witness my awkward girlhood moments and angsty teenagehood.

When I was a little girl, the walls of my bedroom were floral pink, but as I grew older, I started to feel more comfortable with Barbie pink.

So I begged my dad to let me repaint it when I was fifteen. I'd say the painters did a terrific job because the room made me feel like I lived in my own Barbie dreamhouse.

So while the twins abused and mistreated me however they liked, at the end of the day, I always ended up in this bed and within these cute pink walls that made me feel like myself and not like a ghost of myself.

The wall to the right of the bed was adorned with posters of my favorite actors and actresses. And cutesy quotes that uplifted me when I was passing through a hard time in university.

I don't hate the twins the way they hate me, but I am more than relieved to be finally out of this house. I hope I never have to step foot in here again. I am grateful their cruelty didn't reach the extent of sending me to a guest room or the attic.

There was a time Miguel came into my room last year when I'd just stepped out of the shower. I was just about to bend to apply some lotion to my legs.

When Miguel abruptly stepped into my room without so much of a knock or some announcement, he'd blanched upon seeing my half-naked body wrapped in only a towel and mumbled something about "acting just like a prostitute" before disappearing.

I haven't thought about that day until now because it seemed so out of routine for Miguel, but thinking back now, he'd looked embarrassed and stunned. I don't know if it was my imagination, but it perfectly describes his reaction that night.

To this day, I always wondered what brought him to my room because it was rare for him to come in. Maria, on the other hand, has never stepped inside my room since I became a teenager.

And even when I left for university, there were no indications that she'd visited my room in my absence. They were my half-siblings, but it feels like I've always been alone.

We'd never had the room to bond since the twins never extended any grace to me, even when my dad and their mom forced them to.

All that doesn't matter now, I suppose. According to Maria and Miguel's conversation from earlier, whoever they're selling me off to is some well-known man who keeps to himself but is widely recognized as a gangster or some kind of mafia boss.

I've heard stories about Mafia men ruling the city, but to think I'd be sold off to one makes me fear them like never before.

I'd always thought that I'd never cross paths with a Mafia member since they tended to operate at night. When I was in university, Florencia, an acquaintance, told me that a bunch of Mafia units had seized some of the boys from our university because they were caught spreading false gossip about the mafia.

Florencia's eyes widened with fear as she explained in detail what the Mafia had done to those boys from our school. Let's just say it involved lots of blood and torture devices.

To think I'd be living with one for the next foreseeable future. I wonder how my life will turn out.

Tears spring to my eyes as I reminisce about the past two years. It's like being stuck between a rock and a wall. Should I hug the rock, or should I continue punching the wall, hoping for an escape?

In this scenario, the rock is Donovan Castellano, the Mafia boss I will soon be sold off to, and the wall is the twins.

Should I continue to live with the twins and have no chance of seeing the outside world again, or should I let myself be a wife to a mafia man? Even though, according to Maria, he'd kill me?

My body involuntarily wracked with silent sobs as I raised my hands to my face to control my crying. This was such a pathetic way to live.

I can't believe this is my life.

"But you will be fine if you leave the twins. At most, all the Mafia boss will do is sleep with you and send you on errands before he kills you," my brain tried to reason with me.

My tears began to quell as I contemplated the thought. My brain was right. Mafia men were always busy and working around the clock.

I didn't know what they usually did, but Florencia told me some of them rarely stayed home.

Besides, if I left the twins, I'd finally be gaining my freedom back. I can make plans to get a job and possibly run away from the Mafia's house if the conditions are too harsh for me.

And what's more? I get to go outside again. I get to see the streets and breathe in air that isn't contained in a house.

Pleased with that thought, I stretched over the bed to turn off my bed lamp. My body, as always, was weak due to all the chores I'd done during the day, making sleep all the easier to get into.

As sleep welcomed me with open arms, I smiled to myself, knowing that for the first time in two years, I may not scrub and mop already clean floors when I wake up tomorrow.

Even though my life is already shit and potentially getting shittier, it was a comforting thought I hoped would work out for me. For the first time in two years, I was positively looking forward to the next day.

The following morning, to prove that the next sequence of events was going to be unprecedented, Maria came into my room at the crack of dawn. It was the first time in almost fifteen years.

"Get your ass moving, stupid, we don't want to make any bad impressions on your first day!" She pulled the covers away from me.

I felt the biting cold of the early morning scrape my bare legs as she dragged my tired body out of bed. I can't believe this is my last day here, and I'm still treated like a wet sock.

At least a send-off party would be nice, right? I know that's asking for too much.

"No need to pack your stuff, we don't want any of your shabby belongings tainting the image of our humble family, now do we?"

My bedside lamp wasn't on, but I could tell from the tone of Maria's voice that she was disgusted to be in my room.

Maybe she felt like she was in the middle of a dumpster because her body language gave off those vibes as she tugged me towards my bathroom.

What was the big deal anyway? I was getting sold off. My belongings weren't much, so it didn't bother me; she wanted me to leave them behind.

I had nothing of sentimental value in this room. Not my old toys from childhood, not my favorite books, and not any of my clothes.

"Wash up, put on some make-up, and look pretty. Mr. Castellano would be here any minute, and he's not the type of man to be kept waiting. You have only five minutes. Put on your best clothes, and remember not to dress like a prostitute. As far as Mr. Castellano is concerned, you are a virgin." Maria rambled off as she pushed me into the lit bathroom.

My brain tried to catch up with what she'd told me. So far, these are the three main points. 1: Look pretty. 2: Don't dress like a whore. 3: Don't keep Mr. Castellano waiting.

I bathed in a flurry and stepped out of the bathroom, naked. By the time I finished drying my body and was done with my make-up, the sun was already up.

It illuminated my room in a soft orange glow that made me feel like I was in a beautiful novel. This was it, I was finally leaving this house. Never to see the twins again.

Hopefully.

As I pondered going to my new abode for the foreseeable future, a soft knock came on my door. It startled me. Miguel and Maria were not polite enough to ask for permission to enter my room.

"Come in," I said, holding my breath as the door opened, thinking it was my husband to be, but instead it was Catherine.

I didn't know if I should be relieved or disappointed.

"Catherine!" I got up to show my respect.

Her eyes, which had been indifferent towards me, were suddenly lit with emotion, and her face, which was usually rigid and wooden, was contrite.

I didn't know why she looked at me like that like she felt sorry for me.

"Uh, Ms. Eliana..." She mumbled, standing at the door and twisting her fingers like some shy school girl.

I swallowed the tension in my throat. She didn't have to apologize to me if that's what she came for. Although I didn't know why she suddenly turned into a tramp after her dad died, I couldn't blame her.

I knew it was all the twins were doing.

"You don't have to apologize," I blurted out to save her the hassle.

"No, no, I am here to tell you that Mr. Castellano has arrived, and Miguel has ordered for you to meet them downstairs," Catherine rebutted with a droll.

My cheeks heated with embarrassment as I bowed my head in shame. Of course, she wouldn't be here to apologize. What did she have to apologize for when she'd never said any harsh words to me during these past years other than "go cook food" and "do the dishes."?

She had been cold and indifferent towards me these past years, but I don't think it's something she should be apologizing for.

She must think I'd lost my head after telling her not to apologize. I am such a fool.

Fortunately, Catherine didn't hang around to watch me drown in shame. If our bond had strengthened during this last year, I'd have missed her, but thank God there are no bonds.

Although she was good to me when my dad and stepmother were alive, it was mostly just out of politeness as the cook and cleaner of the house.

Maybe she'd always disliked me; who knows?

This was finally it. I breathed deeply to steady my nerves. I'd done my best to comb my unhealthy hair and tie it into a decent bun.

I had a lot of nice gowns that I'd been dying to wear for brunch dates with my girls from university, but since that never happened, I picked out one that I hoped conveyed the message Miguel and Maria asked me to convey.

That is, "I am a virgin," which isn't a lie.

The dress I have on is a flowery cotton dress with rose petals adorning it. It's a straight cut at the neck, which accentuates my c-cup boobs. With it puffed shoulders and short sleeves, I look very much like the proverbial housewife.

Remembering not to keep Mr. Castellano waiting, I hurried out of my room and made my way downstairs. When I got to the living room, I felt like I was arriving at a funeral.

Apart from Maria, who had changed into a Chanel off-white jumpsuit, everyone else, including Miguel, was dressed in black.

It was like arriving at a funeral. I didn't know what to make of my white dress.

The atmosphere of the room was thick with oppressive tension. For the first time in my life, I wasn't worried about the twins being mad at me in this kind of atmosphere.

Judging from the strained look on their faces, there was a bigger threat in the room. One big enough to make Miguel look like he is sorry or guilty. I've never seen two expressions in his face before.

Trying my best not to fidget, I went to the center of the gathering to announce my presence.

There were about six men in finely tailored suits, standing with their hands clasped in front of their lower abdomens, while one sat in the plush cushions of the center at the edge of the room.

I suspected he'd be Donovan Castellano, but I couldn't understand how he was my groom to be.

With his piercing gray eyes that looked like they had invisible X-rays and dark, thick hair perfectly sleeked to define the angular features of his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, I'd have thought he was a Greek god who had descended from Mount Olympus to come dwell among us common humans who didn't deserve his presence.

He didn't look like he was past thirty-five. When Miguel and Maria announced they would be selling me off to get married to him, I already concluded it would be an average-looking middle-aged man who didn't know the door to a gym if he was slapped with it.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think my prospective husband would look every bit like a pantie dropper, but that's not what makes me uncomfortable about him.

In the depths of his eyes, which are void of all emotions, I can see one thing that is very clear, he is not the kind of man to trifle with.