The Mafia's Mom

Chapter 9 His true nature emerged.

-Grace-

--- 8 years ago ---

"James, it's time to go to bed," I say to my seven-year-old son. He's almost eight. He looks up from his tablet and nods.

"Okay mom, is Lizzy already asleep?" he asks and I nod.

"Can I look?" he asks and together we walk to the bedroom of Elisabeth, my youngest daughter. She is only seven months old and James is in love with his little sister, James also loves his little brother Thomas, but now he has a little sister and he feels that he has to protect her more than his brother. The two boys are kind to each other, but can also fight over their toys.

"Sleep well, Lizzy." He whispers to her and then we go to his room.

"What time does dad come home?" he asks softly.

I look at the clock in his bedroom.

"He can come home at any time, but you have to be in bed," I tell him sternly and he nods.

"Daddy isn't going to hurt you tonight, is he?"

I stiffen at my son's question and watch him brush his teeth.

"No sweety, Daddy doesn't hurt me." I reassure him and I hope I speak the truth to my son, but I can't quite promise it.

James heard us the last time and mainly heard me say that I was in pain and wanted Marcel to stop. Which didn't stop Marcel, but last time he put a cloth over my mouth so James couldn't hear me anymore. It was horrible.

I help my son to bed. Thomas is already asleep.

"I love you, mommy." He says and he kisses me on my cheek.

"I love you too, sweetheart. You're already becoming such a big boy." I tell him and he smirks.

Sometimes when he does that, my heart hurts because I see how much he already looks like his father. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, he is the largest of his class, more than a head taller than all the other children in his class. He could easily be two classes higher if you see him walking with the others.

"Sleep well." I kiss his forehead and in the hallway, I close his bedroom door.

When I walk down I see the door to the living room open. That means Marcel is home.

He comes walking back to the hallway and hangs up his coat. He stands at the bottom of the stairs and looks at me. I kiss his cheek but he grabs my face hard and it hurts.

"You know by now that I expect more than a kiss on my cheek. It's been too long Grace. You've been healed a long time ago." He says and I look at him. He has the devilish look in his eyes. It’s the look I’m most afraid of. He probably used something. As most nights, he is being like this.

"Marcel", I sigh and he pulls me closer to him. "Who am I." He barks at me,

"Sorry sweetheart," I say and he smirks.

"I expect you at the table, in something other than this." His eyes go up and down my body. The shirt and pants are not good enough. He lets me go but he doesn't walk away he keeps looking up the stairs to our bedroom when I walk back up the stairs. He nods approvingly.

I look at myself in the mirror, the dress tight around my body, I know Marcel wants me to do my best for him and he also knows every time I haven't done enough. The Marcel I fell in love with, the man who stole my heart, no longer exists. He uses something, I don’t know what it is. But I hate the man who comes home like this.

Despite being pregnant with Elisabeth, Marcel wasn't as careful with me as he was when I was pregnant with the boys. He told me all the time, that he didn’t want a girl.

Now he expects it every time, my clothes have to be sexy, shorter, and more skin showing, and he always wants to touch me, I have to sit on his lap, touches me everywhere, and if he is hard, he doesn’t care where we are or if we're not alone. He makes sure we are alone so he can be inside me.

Whether I wanted to or not.

The only times he accepted a "no" from me was when I was pregnant and when the doctor told him "no s*x until your wife is completely healed."

Well, Elisabeth, or Lizzy as I call her when Marcel is not at home, is now seven months old and tonight I know he won't take any more no’s.

It took a long time this time. For the boys, it was only three months. Truth be told, I overreacted at the last check-up at the doctor. I think the doctor knows, but I got what I wanted out of it.

I walk down the stairs, to the kitchen to grab the food and feel his eyes right on me. His hand slips around my waist and he pulls me against him and I feel how hard he is against my body.

"So you do remember how to do your best for me." He tells me and he bends over to kiss my neck. I want to run away but know I'm losing the battle. So I give him more space.

"Shall we eat?" I ask, but his grip tightens rather than loosens.

"What if I want dessert first instead of the main meal." He whispers and I try not to roll my eyes.

Not only does he not eat dessert at all, but also not in a s****l way.

If I'm lucky, I'll come once a month, as he puts it, because I've been a sweet girl.

Otherwise, I will never come, at least not because of him. I’ll do that myself and then I think of completely different things and not of him.

"Just say what you want sweetheart,"

He turns me around and grabs my face hard. Not soft and loving, not careful, no, always hard.

Love completely disappeared from his actions towards me, only when the children are there, or we have to go somewhere for his work.

Then there is the loving and warm Marcel, but here at home...

"That you suck me off." He says and I swallow.

"But let's eat first." He lets go of my face and walks to the table. I put the food on the table and ask where he wants me to sit.

It may be a ridiculous question, but if I'm not in the right place, he gets angry and I don't want to do anything to make him angry. He is horrible enough like this.

"You can sit here." He tells me and he points to the chair next to him. I put my plate there and put food on his plate.

During dinner, he asks about his son James, but nothing about Thomas or Elisabeth. Only James. It's always just been, James…

I can’t believe I fell for this man.

Whatever it sounds like now, I fell in love with that man, he took my heart, all my first times, but he’s also the first who broke my heart and more than that.

My arm, after a fight, when I fell because I wanted to run away. My leg because I got stuck when I wanted to climb out of a window. My thumb, because he grabbed me too hard, again when I wanted to leave.

The time I broke my leg and my arm, he was really happy, I had nowhere to go, he carried me everywhere and he could do whatever he wanted because I couldn't defend myself against him. Those haven't been my only visits to the doctor. But always to doctor Rossi and there Marcel does not leave me alone for a second.

I see it on the faces of the people around me. They know it, but with Marcel next to me, no one speaks out and I'm stuck.

After dinner, I clean up the kitchen and when I'm done he's already with me and his hands on my hips.

"You always make me hard Grace." He tells me.

"How is that possible when you're always so mean to me, how could you be hard, you don't even like me?" I ask and he turns me around and looks at me.

"I work hard Grace, for everything your heart desires. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you." He tells me, again. “You know I like you. You also know, I don’t like it when you disobey me.”

We have had this conversation a hundred times, each time with the same outcome.

"I wanted a loving husband," I tell him softly and he grabs me and presses his body against me.

"That's me Grace, the deal was as long as I take care of you, you take care of me." He answers me and he leans forward to my neck to kiss it.

"I take very good care of you, but you don't take care of me. So if you don't give it to me, I have to take it." He explains to me and when I want to resist he grabs my wrists hard.

"Uh, uh, uh, you know what's coming out of this, Grace. You can give it to me, willingly, or I'll take it." He looks at me in my eyes. I see the crazy man there.

"Why can't you settle for me being tired sometimes, my back hurts, I work hard too," I tell him and he looks at me.

"Should I get a cleaning lady? A nanny?", he asks.

"No, but-"

"No, then you have nothing to complain about. Just say it, Grace. Don't you find me attractive enough anymore, huh?" he grabs me harder. "I didn't choose you for a good conversation, I didn't take you with me to clean my house." His voice harder. "I took you because you were already a beautiful little girl, my girl, my wife, mine, and no one else. I took you with me so I could make you the way I want you." His eyes go over my body.

"My wife, who I proudly show to everyone, my wife who makes me relax, forgets my daily boring meetings. That was the only reason, Grace. So you could give yourself to me when and wherever I want, I choose you so that you fall to your knees and suck my d*ck, just because I want you to."

I look at him angrily and want to pull away. But he just smirks.

"Don't be like this Grace, you know you're beautiful, you know I'll punish you when we've been away and men have looked at you, the way I look at you. That's my way of dealing with it." He kisses my cheek.

"You make me dress a certain way!" I tell him and he smirks again. Twinkles in his eyes.

"Yes, because I want to show you, show other men that their wives are ugly and mine is still a good f*ck. To make other men jealous, I want them to want you, and I'm the only one who can have you!" he yells.

He leans in towards my ear and whispers. "Now go upstairs, you have already showered, you smell delicious. I'll come up in a moment and prepare you for your punishment, you'll beg me tonight." He tells me and he grins when he sees my gaze.

"For what?" I ask. He lets me go.

"Because I no longer feel like having to have these conversations every month. Now go upstairs." He answers sternly and when I don't walk away immediately he sighs when he pours his drink.

"Grace, when I have my drink, I'll take you upstairs and I can promise you I'm not careful with you. I wanted you to come first, but you no longer deserve that." He laughs. I shake my head, but walk upstairs, because I know I'm losing.