His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)

I closed the bedroom door behind me, leaning heavily on my rollator to keep my balance. My hips were aching, and a weariness that had nothing to do with my disorder was settling into my bones. I didn’t know how long I could live like this. Mila was always the brave one, the one who fought back. Without her by my side, I felt myself wilting.

I curled up on the bed, haphazardly throwing a blanket over my body. My eyes burned with unshed tears until I finally gave into them, letting them drip down my cheeks. It wasn’t like there was anyone here to judge me for crying. I wondered if my new husband would scream at me if he saw my tears, like my father always had. I didn’t understand why I had to be born with such a freaking tender heart. I wished I could be cold and unfeeling… like Matteo.

I wrapped my arms around my pillow and let my eyes drift shut. Maybe my dreams would carry me to a better life.

The light in the room shifted as the sun set, turning gold, then pink, then blue. I hadn’t moved from my spot on the bed all day and didn’t have the energy to turn on a lamp.

I should have asked more questions this morning. Was I allowed to leave my room to get food? Matteo hadn’t specified, which, in my experience, meant no. Would he hit me if I disobeyed? My stomach lurched at the thought.

A few months ago, I had dared go downstairs after my father told me to stay in my room. I’d gotten my period but didn’t have any supplies, and Mila was out. My father caught me searching through my mother’s bathroom vanity and backhanded me across the face. I’d crumpled to the floor, hitting my hip hard enough to leave a nasty bruise. I’d had to crawl back to my room, holding back my screams of pain, as my father berated me for not obeying him. Something in me had broken that day as I lay in bed, blood soaking through the towel I’d stuffed in my underwear.

Based on what I’d seen and my conversations with his men, Matteo didn’t seem violent, but even I could hear how naïve that sounded. He was the Don. He had surely murdered and tortured people. Just because he was attractive didn’t mean anything. Monsters hid behind pretty faces.

Darkness enveloped the room and I stared unseeingly out the window. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but I was too scared to venture out into the kitchen. I hadn’t heard anyone moving around the apartment all day, but I was sure Matteo had cameras. Was this all a test to see how obedient I was?

There wasn’t a clock in the room so I didn’t know what time it was when I finally broke down and rolled out of bed. I went to the bathroom and then snagged my purse, knowing Mila had slipped a chocolate bar in there the morning of the wedding. Was that only yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago.

The sugar hit my lips, but I could barely taste it. I ate mechanically, folded the wrapper, and put it back in my bag. Numbness washed over me, pulling me under.

I had no more tears to cry. This was my life—to be hated and forgotten—and I just had to accept it.