A Beautiful Mistake: A Mafia Romance

CHAPTER EIGHT

I step into my room, my emotions a tumultuous storm, swirling and churning within me. The intensity of my attraction to Rafael is both exhilarating and terrifying, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. His mere presence sets every nerve ending in my body ablaze, and his rough handling, which should have alarmed me, only left me craving more.

I lean against the door, my legs still weak from our encounter. My mind races, trying to make sense of my reactions. Is this uncontrollable desire a product of my past trauma? The thought is unsettling, yet it seems to be the only explanation that fits. I’ve never allowed myself to be close to any man, not after the betrayal of the one person who should have loved me unconditionally. My only intimate experiences were non-consensual, leaving deep scars on my psyche. Now, faced with Rafael’s domineering presence, I find myself yielding willingly. Am I so starved for affection, so accustomed to having my boundaries violated, that I now crave this intensity?

With a heavy sigh, I push off the door frame and make my way to the bathroom. The evidence of our encounter is still present on my body - his scent clinging to my skin, his c*m trickling down my thigh. As I step into the shower, I let the warm water cascade over me, hoping it would wash away not just the physical remnants but also the confusion clouding my mind.

As I lather my body, my thoughts drift to the life I left behind. I wonder about my job at the preschool and the children I cared for. The school had promised to keep my position open when I quit and ran to Bamahas with Melina, but how long would they wait? A pang of longing hits me as I think of those innocent faces, their laughter echoing in my memories. Do they miss me as much as I miss them?

Tears mingle with the shower water as I contemplate the stark contrast between my past life and my current situation. I miss the simplicity of my old routine - the predictable rhythm of work and home, even the solitude of my empty house. Will I ever experience that normalcy again?

In an attempt to distract myself from these melancholic thoughts, I begin to sing softly. The melody of “Bésame Mucho” fills the steamy bathroom, the Spanish lyrics rolling off my tongue with surprising ease. The song, a favorite taught to me by a kind Mexican neighbor from my youth, now seems to take on new meaning in light of my complicated situation.

As I sing, I’m reminded of the rusty Spanish I picked up during those years. It’s a bittersweet memory, tinged with nostalgia for simpler times. My voice, which many have praised as beautiful, carries the emotion of the song. Yet, I can’t help but think of Melina, whose voice I’ve always believed to be even more enchanting than my own.

The familiar melody provides a momentary escape from my tumultuous reality. For a brief instant, I’m transported back to a time of innocence before the complexities of my current situation. But as the last notes fade, I’m left once again with the stark reality of my present circumstances - a captive torn between fear and desire, struggling to understand my own emotions in this gilded cage.

I step out of the shower, and the steam billows around me. The warmth of the bathroom a stark contrast to the chill that runs down my spine as the door suddenly swings open. My eyes widen in shock, my heart leaping into my throat as I realize it’s Rafael standing before me. His eyes, dark and stormy, bore into mine with an intensity that steals my breath away.

Before I can utter a single word, he’s on me, his strong arm wrapping around my throat as he backs me into the wall. The cool tiles press against my bare skin, sending a shiver through my body. His grip tightens, the pressure on my windpipe making it difficult to breathe.

“Why the f**k are you singing that song?” he demands, his voice a low, menacing growl. Anger radiates from him in waves, his eyes blazing with a fury that both terrifies and confuses me.

I struggle against his hold, my lungs burning as I fight for air. “Because I like it,” I manage to rasp out, my voice strained and barely audible.

“You like it?” he repeats, his grip tightening even further. The edges of my vision begin to blur, and a sinking feeling settles in my stomach as I realize I may have made a grave mistake.

“Listen and listen to me well,” he snarls, his face mere inches from mine. “Don’t you ever. I mean, don’t you f*****g ever sing that song again. Do you f*****g hear me?”

“Yes,” I rush out, my survival instinct kicking in. I don’t dare argue or question him, not when my very life seems to hang in the balance.

“Good.” With that, he releases his hold, and I crumple to the bathroom floor, my legs giving out beneath me. I cough violently, my lungs greedily sucking in air as I try to regain my composure.

Rafael storms out of the bathroom, leaving me alone and utterly bewildered. My mind races, trying to make sense of what just happened. What was it about that song that triggered such a violent reaction from him?