Resisting my Possessive Mafia Husband

The aunties and uncles and all the other relatives I hadn't seen in a while stepped away after paying their last tributes to dad. Dressed in black clothes,

I watched each of them bow their heads sadly as they paid their last respects while the rector Miguel had hired spoke about death and the afterlife.

Before now, I'd never seen much of these aunties or uncles. I used to hear that dad wasn't on good terms with them, but why are they here now?

I also didn't believe the rumors about dad not being on good terms with them because he was the sweetest man I'd ever known.

I'd never met my mom. She died while I was a baby, so my dad remarried my stepmother, Irene. Irene was not the perfect stepmother, but she tried her best to treat me like a distant relative and not as one of her children.

Miguel and Maria, her twins, always bullied me when my dad or their mom weren't home.

Now that both of them are gone, I know I am about to face the worst moments of my life living without them. Both Miguel and Maria are older than me. I am only twenty-two, while they're both thirty years old.

Irene passed away last year due to a dreadful illness, and my dad died last week due to an accident. It broke my heart when I heard the news.

"And may he rest peacefully," the rector finalized solemnly when the last set of my relatives paid their respects and went back to their chairs.

Miguel and Maria were standing on the left side of the seating arrangement. My gut told me they didn't want to be associated with me, which was fine. I hope I can gain my freedom before they turn me into a slave.

After everyone paid their respects, my relatives started to leave one by one. Dad's coffin was carefully lowered into the ground before they all left, leaving me alone with the awful twins.

"Well, well, well..." Miguel sang as he approached me slowly from the other side of the seating arrangement. As if on cue, the warm, sunny afternoon suddenly turned gloomy as the dark clouds blocked the sun.

Maria smirked behind her brother as they came to my front. "Guess it's just us now, dear sister," Miguel grinned mischievously.

I tried not to roll my eyes because I didn't want to provoke him. Miguel is an abusive person, and he's beaten me a handful of times when dad or Irene went out on a date. I'd cry myself to sleep whenever it happened because I didn't want dad to hate Miguel, who wasn't his biological son.

"I'm leaving," I said, turning my back to head back into the house.

I've always known it's a mistake to turn your back on your enemy, but I never understood why until now.

"Not so fast, gremlin," Maria tutted as she grabbed my hair and pulled with a force hard enough to pull a door off its hinges.

I felt ringing in my ears as my eyes became wet with tears. My scalp started to burn, but Maria didn't let go of my hair. Instead, she continued to tug and tug until I fell down backwards, landing on my back and facing the twins.

They stared down at me with a pitiful look that I knew wasn't genuine.

"Where are you going? I didn't say you could leave." Miguel's expression turned angry.

"With dad gone now, I am now the man of the house, which means that my word goes. You don't move without my permission. You do not eat, sleep, read, or do anything without my permission!" He shouted like a military commander giving out orders.

"Do you understand me?" He gritted out in a low voice.

From my angle on the ground, I could see the dark clouds behind his head.

It was as if the universe was trying to tell me that today was the beginning of the worst years of my life.

Miguel's eyes were dark with hatred and empty. I've never been fond of him, but at that moment, I knew I had every right to despise him.

How could he do this to me when dad had just died? Who did he think he was?

I wanted to shout back at him and tell him to go fuck himself, but I knew I'd only be signing my death warrant if I said that.

He was much older than me, and it would be stupid of me to make any trouble for myself when I had no money or job. Thankfully, I've graduated from university, which means I can always apply for a job whenever I regain my freedom, whenever that may be.

"Is he not talking to a cheap human like you?" Maria kicked my rib cage as she hissed.

"Yes, I understand!" I fired back in frustration as hot pain burst from my ribs and scattered around my body. Maria had kicked me with a Louboutin! Those shoes are as hard as rocks.

There would be a scar on my body by now, I am sure of it.

Wincing painfully, I turned away from them to massage the affected area. That was a big mistake on my part. As soon as I turned, Maria used the heel of her shoes to poke my thigh. She made sure to add enough pressure, causing the pointed, slender heel to make a small hole in my thigh, making me bleed.

"Ahhhh!" I screamed in anguish as more tears flowed from my eyes.

I heard Miguel laugh. I was blinded by my tears. I couldn't see, but I could hear how demented and evil his laughter was. I felt the blood trickle from the outside of my thigh to the center and down to my legs.

Even injection needles didn't hurt like this.

"I told you not to move without my permission, gremlin," Miguel snickered.

I cried silently so as not to provoke them any further. When my eyes couldn't hold any more tears, I opened them to find the twins sitting down and looking down at me with bored expressions.

"Are you done being dramatic?" Maria faked a yawn. She was turning her right hand this way and that, admiring her nails.

My throat was dry, and any slight movement made my ribcage hurt even more, so I didn't bother to answer. I laid still on the grass and just nodded weakly.

"Good. It's almost time for dinner, but you won't be joining us. Use the time to pack the seats into the truck. The driver will be here in the next hour. If you don't finish before the driver comes, no dinner for you," Miguel instructed.

To show him that I got his message, I nodded once more, being careful not to let out any whimpers.

"Let's go, brother dearest, and leave the maid to work."

When they disappeared into the house, I let my thoughts wander aimlessly as I stared up into the cloudy sky.

So this is my life now. Dad was my only protector, but he's gone now. I have no friends because they all moved out of the country after graduation.

A few of my relatives don't really care about the family because they didn't believe dad's business could take off, so he cut them off when he finally made it as an entrepreneur.

The twins hate me because I am the only one in the family who has dad's blood running through my veins.

They only have his name, but I have both his name and his blood.

But sadly, I can't use any of that to my advantage. I have no power here.

As I thought about how miserable my life had turned in the blink of an eye, I felt a drop of water land on my cheek. Then I blink, and it begins to pour. It was raining.

Fuck.

The universe isn't on my side, I guess. I am a slave to my step-siblings, and I am lying in wet grass after my dad was buried. There is a hole in my thigh that is bleeding, and my rib cage feels like it has been smashed to pieces with a hefty rock.

Nothing could be worse than this. Remembering Miguel's instructions from earlier, I closed my eyes and counted to ten. It was the only way to distract myself from the pain of the violence Maria had inflicted on my body.

On the tenth count, I jumped to my feet without overthinking it. When I landed, it felt like I made it, but then a sharp pain pierced from my thigh and shot right up, through my ribs, connecting with the nerves there and strengthening their bonds, bringing me more pain.

I let out a scream as the rain fell harder. At least no one could hear me.

I am all alone.

After screaming, I tore the hem of my black gown and tied it around the hole in my thigh to stop the bleeding.

"Just endure it," I tried to console myself as I made a move to start packing the chairs.

I checked the time on my watch as I rounded up the last chairs. I had thirty minutes to spare, which means I'll get to eat tonight. We didn't serve the relatives any food because everyone was in a hurry, so Miguel and Maria hadn't bothered to tell Catherine, our cook and live in househelp, to cook any meals.

A short, muscular man who looked to be in his mid-forties rounded the truck as I pushed the remaining foldable chairs into the back.

"Oh, sweetie, this was supposed to be my job."

"It's fine; I'm already done." I smiled wearily.

"But it's raining so hard, you shouldn't have bothered," he reproached kindly.

"I really don't mind," I lied through chattering teeth.

The man argued with me for a while before warning me about the dangers of being in the rain for too long.

Then he gently told me to dry myself and have a hot cup of chocolate once I returned to the house. I thanked him for caring about my health and bade him goodbye as he drove off our street.

Then I walked back to the house with my heart in my chest, wondering what else the twins were going to tell me to do.

When I stepped into the foyer, I could smell the faint aroma of Catherine's famous egg-tomato soup. It's a recipe she learned from one of her favorite cooking shows.

She'd fry eggs with a bunch of spices and carrots, then pour them into shredded tomatoes and stir fry until the juice from the tomatoes turned sweet with the addition of soy sauce and vinegar.

Even though I was practically a slave now, I couldn't wait to eat her food and temporarily forget my problem with the twins.

I made a beeline for the kitchen once I was sure my gown wasn't dripping muddy water onto the floor. I met Catherine turning something into a pot, with her back turned to me.

"Hi Catherine," I said cheerfully, so she wouldn't detect any hint of distress in my voice.

She startled before turning to look at me as if she'd seen a ghost. Catherine's eyes, which were always warm, were now cold. She looked me up and down like I was a spoiled brat, then resumed stirring the pot, not bothering to spare me another glance.

"Catherine..." I called in a small voice, as if I were a child afraid of the dark and calling out to her parents.

Catherine ignored me. The sweet aroma of spicy fried eggs and sour tomatoes no longer wafted into my nostrils. The pitter-patter of the rain and the earthy smell of wet grass and soil were all I could hear and smell.

Even though the universe wasn't on my side, it was there to remind me that I was now alone.

The earthy smell was a harsh reminder that nature was all I had. I don't know what Miguel and Maria told Catherine, but it was obvious it was something bad enough to make her look at me like I was the child of the devil.

I heaved a tired sigh as I trudged out of the kitchen. I passed through the dining table, which was adorned with dishes of beef stew and shredded potatoes. I could hear the faint laughter of Maria in her bedroom upstairs.

Oh, dad, I wish you hadn't died so soon. I whispered to his portrait hanging on the wall of the dining room.

He wasn't always present, but his presence was enough to keep the twins away from me. Now he's gone, and they've revealed their true characters. I am trapped in this house with them, just like a fairytale princess.

But unlike the fairytale princess, there would be no prince charming coming to save me. Only I can save myself, no matter how long it takes.

Two years later...

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Ramirez. I'll do my best to ensure all outstanding payments are cleared." Miguel shook the wiry hand of the old man standing in the living room.

I'd been coming inside the living room at intervals to dust the chairs or serve food and drinks to the guests, who are mostly men dressed in well-tailored suits.

Upon Maria's orders, I've been instructed to position myself as some "buffer" to make the guests less angry with Miguel, who seems to be owing them a lot of money.

I stepped in once more to carry the empty plates and glasses back to the kitchen, and Mr. Ramirez nodded absentmindedly as his eyes hovered over my body like I was a free piece of meat.

The maid outfit I wore could barely cover my thighs. Maria told me to put on the shortest maid outfit any time we had male guests come over.

And when the male guests asked them who I was, Maria and Miguel would pique with excitement as they gladly told the guests I was a prostitute they had saved from a trafficking brothel.

The twins also told them that sometimes I liked to dress provocatively when guests were over because I still craved the attention of men. As they said all this to the guests, I'd bow my head in shame and try not to cry because tears meant more slaps from Maria or brutal beatings from Miguel.

It was a situation I couldn't win.

Mr. Ramirez licked his lips as his eyes skated from my thighs up to my chest, showing my cleavage that wasn't covered due to the very low cut of the maid dress. The dress was like a slip of illusion, merely for show.

It was better to be naked than to look like this in front of all these men. Miguel eyed Mr. Ramirez with a knowing look, as if proud his plans of "prostituting me" were working. So far, Maria and Miguel haven't agreed to give me off to any of the men who wanted to sleep with me or buy me for a limited period of time.

It was something I was so grateful for, but with the way Mr. Ramirez looked at me now, maybe my safety was coming to an end.

And it frightened me to my bones because I was still a virgin. I never had a boyfriend in university since I was a class topper and took my studies seriously. When I graduated, I thought I'd finally get the chance to date, but then my dad died a week later, leaving me to suffer at the hands of these cruel twins.

I wish I'd been the one to die instead of dad.

"Like what you see?" Miguel whispered conspiratorially to Mr. Ramirez.

Mr. Ramirez licked his stupid lips once more and nodded, his eyes never leaving my body.

Miguel laughed as Mr. Ramirez's eyes became dark with lust and dangerous longing.

Which brings me to another disadvantage of being a maid and a slave to the twins. Since the day dad died, I've never left the house. I've asked for permission from Miguel countless times, but he's shut me down and threatened to sell me off to bad men who will turn me into a sexual slave.

Maria then spoke to me one night and said I'd never leave the house because they don't trust that I will run away or try to report them to the authorities.

But what good will reporting do? The authorities won't believe that an adult woman like me is being treated like a slave in her own house. They would think I'm crazy or schizophrenic.

A sigh escaped my dry lips as Miguel engaged Mr. Ramirez in a conversation my ears couldn't make much of. From their hushed tones, I knew they were no longer talking about business. It was about me and whether I was available for the night.

I watched Mr. Ramirez's smile fade into a frown as Miguel gave him a gentle slap on the shoulders. It was the universal gesture for "I hate to break it to you."

A smile was about to creep on my face until I felt a dry palm slide up my bare thighs and try to grab my butt from underneath the short gown. My blood ran cold. I've been in this type of situation many times where a male guest would feel my body, but I cannot protest or rebuke them.

Miguel would only lock me inside the cold cellar for twenty-four hours if I did that. My only option was to let the male guest feel me up and harass me until they were satisfied. Sometimes, a few of them would pull me to their laps and stroke their horrid penis on my dress, then spill their sperm into my laps.

Silently, I prayed that this current male visitor wouldn't pull me into his laps, but I forgot that there was nobody by my side. Not even the universe. As if mocking my silent prayers, the male guest, who happened to be in his mid-thirties, tugged on my dress until I non-gracefully fell into his lap.

My butt collided with his already-erected penis that was out of his zipper. He grunted when I landed on his butt, then began to fondle my ass from underneath my dress. As he fondled my ass, he began to stoke himself.

My eyes stung with unshed tears as I closed them, willing myself not to cry. The meeting would soon be over, and all these disgusting men would finally leave. That was my only comforting thought as the male guest continued to harass me with his hands and penis.

Mr. Ramirez spoke loudly in an angry voice.

"I thought you said she wasn't for play. Why can he touch her?"

Miguel laughed tightly before answering. Whenever he laughs tightly like that, it means he wants to punch someone, but Mr. Ramirez doesn't know that.

"She can be felt and fondled, but no sex," Miguel answered quietly in a deadly voice that held no room for arguments or questions.

My eyes were still closed, so I couldn't see Mr. Ramirez's expression, but I knew he might look a bit terrified because, even though Miguel owed him money for God knows what, he was still quite a scary man.

I've never seen Miguel bow to anybody or take anything lightly. He was always serious and intimidating. Even Maria, who is his twin, fears him a little.

I always told myself that if the earth should kill off everyone with no shred of humanity in them, only Miguel would be dead. That's just how sociopathic he can be.

"Well then," Mr. Ramirez said, clearing his throat. "I've laid down my terms. It will no longer be in my hands once the state of the law is involved. Do well to clear all outstanding debts before next week."

"I understand," Miguel said tightly.

"Good. I'll be taking my leave now," Mr. Ramirez announced before I heard his footsteps withdraw from the living room. The pervert currently harassing me began to breathe fast as his rough hands grabbed the flesh of mass and fondled harshly.

I could feel his hand move rapidly as he stroked himself faster. He was about to come. I shut my eyes even tighter and started to sing in my head so I wouldn't hear his harsh grunts of release.

But no matter how hard or how loud I tried to sing in my head, I still heard the pervert grunt loudly as he came all over my laps.

When he finished, he exhaled a harsh, hot breath and collapsed against the back of the couch.

"God damn," he whispered to himself, his voice soaked with hazy lust.

I pondered leaving him or staying still in his lap, but Mr. Ramirez answered that question for me.

"Andrew, we have to leave. Now."

The pervert, whose name is apparently Andrew, slid me onto the couch as he adjusted his trousers. After zipping up his fly, he stood up and threw me a wink that almost made me vomit on the floor I'd mopped an hour ago.

When the remaining guests followed Andrew and Mr. Ramirez out, the house became instantly cold, as if they took the warmth with them.

I waited for Miguel's next course of action.

This was the angriest I'd ever felt from him in weeks. He'd seemed to be in a good mood these days, and Miguel being in a good mood means I don't receive any beatings.

I wonder what outstanding debts he owed Mr. Ramirez and how much money it was. I haven't been outside the house in two years, and I had no access to a phone or computer, so I didn't know what happened outside these four walls.

Miguel and Maria don't let me hang around them, so I have no sliver of gossip to rely on for information.

Even after two years, Catherine still treats me like I'm a washed-up leper, so I don't have anyone to speak to.

All I have is myself. It's a miracle that I haven't gone crazy yet. Every day since I became a maid for the twins, all I've ever done is slave away on chores and display myself as a cheap prostitute for male guests who wanted to rile Miguel up.

The atmosphere got tense with every passing second as the corners of Miguel's mouth tightened in an annoyed frown. What has made him so angry? I wondered once more as I stood up from the couch to pack up the empty plates and glasses.

"Where do you think you're going?" Miguel spoke quietly, making me flinch.

"I...I..." I stuttered, at a loss for words.

He looked like a predator who had his prey trapped.

There was no escape for me.

He stalked closer until he was only a few feet away, towering over me with his six-foot height. I won't deny that Miguel is a handsome man. At six feet, he is blessed with brownish blond hair that makes him look boyish if he smiles.

The thing is, he never smiles genuinely, so his frown made his handsome face look like a man tired of all of life's difficulties. Like a man who knows how powerful he is and is not afraid to use that power.

The corner of his lips tilted into a smirk as he regarded me disdainfully.

"You know, sweet sister..."

Anytime Miguel calls me sister, it means bad news always follows. I prefer if he calls me gremlin like he usually does. It also reminded me that we were half-siblings, even though he never treated me like family.

My blood iced as I waited for him to continue talking.

"You've blossomed into a woman. I mean, you've always been a woman, but with the way these visitors always ask for your body to warm their beds whenever they see you, it tells me that you're worth more than I thought."

His chilling gaze pierced me as he looked down at my cleavage and then my thighs. The hole from two years ago was still there. It had healed, but my left thigh now had a dent that looked like a birthmark from a distance. Up close, anyone could see how slightly deep the hole was.

"You've been living freely and eating our food these past few years. I'm starting to think that you've overstayed your welcome. Since you don't have any money, there is only one way to solve this issue," Miguel declared.

With the way his lips held a secret smile, I could tell that whatever the solution was, I wouldn't like it one bit. Miguel was always up to something. And what he said about living freely was a lie.

I've been working every day with little to no rest these past few years. I'd get up in the morning at about five a.m. to mow the lawn and trim the flowers. Then I had to prepare breakfast and mop the whole house.

Our house is a duplex with six bedrooms, three living rooms, ten bathrooms, and a few other rooms with no intentional use.

I mopped all these rooms myself, and it usually takes me three hours to do it. This is what I do every day, even though there is no need for it.

And on top of that, I have to prostitute myself to male visitors.

Miguel was talking out of his ass. I haven't lived freely in this house. I didn't eat as much as they did. I am as skinny as a twig. I don't even recognize myself in the mirror these days.

I used to be slim and curvy, with all my curves in the right places. My eyes, which used to shine with love and excitement for life, are dead now. My lips are always dry because I've been drinking only tap water.

I don't see my period any more because my diet mostly contains left-over foods and dried fruits that the twins forgot to eat.

I fisted my palms as a violent urge to slap Miguel's lying mouth came from nowhere.

"Maria!" Miguel called out, reminding me to keep my slapping urge to myself. There was already a queen for slapping in the house, so there was no need to take up that position.

Right on cue, Maria appeared in a towel wrapped around her body while her blond hair, which was the same shade as Miguel's, was wet and lying on her shoulders, fanning her bust and stopping at her waist.

I've always envied her for her long hair. My hair was never that long, but she'd cut it in my sleep one night. I have very curly hair that my dad used to say belonged to a princess who grew up in the woods.

My hair used to be fiery ginger, but with all the stress I've had to endure these past few years, it looked dark brown.

"Ugh, did you have to call me when I was just about to do my beauty routine?" Maria whined.

If she didn't want to come, she'd have simply ignored him. She didn't spare me a glance as she eyed Miguel furiously.

"Are the trumpets gone?" She asked, referring to Mr. Ramirez and his companions.

Miguel nodded. Maria liked to call people she considered beneath her trumpets because she said uncultured people, that is, people who weren't as rich as sin, made the loudest noise.

"What to do now?" Her tone was apprehensive.

Miguel smirked as his eyes turned towards me, making Maria do the same.

"And what does she have to do with the problem?" Maria asked impatiently.

"We marry her off," he answered as a matter of fact, as if I weren't standing a few feet away from them.

Maria gasped as a happy, pleased smile cut across her features.

"I thought the day would never come. I'd always said this, but you never listened. What changed your mind? Who is the unlucky bastard?"

Miguel's frown deepened as he said his name. He looked almost dissatisfied, as if he wasn't happy to finally be rid of me.

"It's Donovan Castellano."

Maria gasped and tried to smile, but her eyes shone with some kind of secret knowledge, and the smile faded before it even started.

"The Donovan Castellano? The one that we saw when..." she said, trailing off and eyeing me suspiciously.

Even though she didn't complete her words, Miguel nodded.

"Yep, that one."

What were they talking about? I wanted to ask, but I was not permitted to speak, so I just stood there with a pervert's cum sliding off the obscene maid gown to my knees. My body started to flare up with an invisible itch, and I was dying to scratch the itch, but I couldn't move yet until Miguel allowed me to.

"Oh my God, Miggy. That's great. We can pay off the debts and even have some left for days," Maria tried to inject with reason, but Miguel was already far gone. His eyes were looking into a far distance as he thought deeply.

I've never seen him so muddleheaded like this. Was the Donovan guy a bad man? Why were they acting like he was some sort of monster, and why was Miguel of all people disturbed about this?

The more I pondered these questions and their non-existent answers, the more my body itched, looking for relief from the dirty experience I'd encountered with Andrew the Pervert.

As if struck by lightning, Miguel jolted, his pupils dilating as he regained control of his thoughts. He speared his eyes in my direction and scowled, as if remembering I was still in the room with them.

With his eyes not leaving mine, he spoke to Maria.

"It wasn't planned, I was going through a site where I could auction... stuff," he hesitated on the last word and continued.

"Then someone hit me up and said they were interested. We took communications off the website, and I found out it was one of Donovan's men. I asked him to run it through the boss, which is Donovan, as you know, and I was reassured that Donovan was fine buying a bride from us so long as it was Dad's actual daughter." Miguel spat the last part with disdain, and my eyes clouded with shame for committing a crime that was not within my power.

"Well, that's great," Maria added.

Miguel hmphed.

"We not only get our debts settled like you said, but we also get a million dollars each. I don't know why he's willing to spend that much on this." Miguel cut me off as his eyes roved over my body like he was looking at a pile of cow dung.

"Yep, I have the same question too, brother dearest, but let's not waste our thoughts on irrelevant people. We will be debt-free soon and a million dollars richer! We have to celebrate. The mafia really does know how to negotiate," Maria gleaned, clapping and jumping.

Miguel gave her a warning look, and she stopped grinning from ear to ear as she stopped her joyful jumps.

But it was too late to warn her. I'd already heard what she said. I was going to be sold off to a mafia group.

As if my life couldn't get any worse.

"You can go to your room. You will be leaving tomorrow," Miguel told me, and I screeched, "What?!" at the same time Maria did.

We both glanced at each other with astonishment as Miguel's temper threatened to rise. He paid me no mind as he faced Maria.

"Yes, she will be leaving tomorrow. Mr. Castellano's man had mentioned that the deal would be done as soon as possible."

"How lovely," Maria said sarcastically, side-eyeing me dismissively.

Since Miguel had already given me the go-ahead to go to my room, I hurried out of the living room with my heart in my stomach.

I was going to be a mafia's wife. That was a fate worse than being a slave to the twins.

When I got to the stairs, I could overhear Maria telling Miguel something that made my heart thunder even more fiercely.

It wasn't the words that made me scared; it was how worried Maria sounded when she said them and Miguel's harsh reply that followed.

"He is going to kill her, you know that, right?"

"All the more reason to sell her off when she isn't benefiting us here," was Miguel's ominous, cold response.