Dahlia’s POV

I gasped from the pain and shock. His grip was tight, rough, like he wasn’t even trying to be gentle. I tried to pull away, but he didn’t budge. It was like trying to fight a wall. My voice caught in my throat; I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Then he shoved me—hard. My body stumbled backward until I hit the bed behind me. The mattress dipped under me as I landed, my breath leaving my chest in a quick gasp. My heart was pounding so fast it hurt. I could hear it thudding in my ears, loud and desperate, like it was begging me to run even though my body wouldn’t move.

I looked up at him, terrified, and for a second, I thought maybe he would stop. Maybe he would just walk away. But then he moved closer, climbing onto the bed. I shut my eyes quickly, tears spilling down my cheeks. My whole body shook.

Was this really happening? Was he really going to take advantage of me? The thought made my stomach twist. I could barely breathe as fear settled over me like a heavy blanket I couldn’t escape. I wanted to disappear—to wake up and realize this was all some terrible dream—but I knew it wasn’t. This was real. Too real.

He held my hands above my head, pinning me down with his weight. "Denise," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Why are you feeling shy all of a sudden? Last time we met, you practically begged me to fuck you. So what's changed?"

"Please," I whimpered, trying to shrink back from him. "Please let me go. I'm begging you."

"Why should I?" he sneered, his eyes glinting with a cruel, hungry light. "Why shouldn't I fuck my own wife?"

I shook my head frantically, tears now streaming down my face. "Please," I begged again, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't do this. I'm begging you."

He just laughed, a harsh, cruel sound that sent chills down my spine. "Begging won't help you now," he sneered, his eyes glinting with a malicious light. "You are my wife and you now belong to me."

I knew I had to think of something, anything, to make him stop. My mind raced frantically, searching for an excuse, a lie, anything that might save me from what was about to happen. And then, suddenly, it came to me.

"I...I'm on my period," I stammered, hoping against hope that he would believe me. "I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier. But please, you can't...you can't do this to me right now."

For a moment, he just stared at me. His face didn’t show anything—no anger, no softness, nothing at all. I couldn’t even read what he was thinking, and that scared me more. My chest rose and fell too fast, and I held my breath without realizing it. I was praying deep inside, hoping he would believe my lie, even though a part of me knew it was stupid to think he would. He was a mafia don, not some regular man you could fool easily. People like him didn’t just stop because you begged.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and cold. My heart was beating so loudly it felt like he could hear it. I kept my eyes on his, waiting for him to get angry, waiting for him to do something worse.

To my surprise, he leaned away

But then, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't think this is over," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "You may have gotten lucky this time, but mark my words, Denise - I will fuck you soon. Hard. Whenever and however I like. And you will enjoy it because you belong to me. Every part of you. Your mouth. Your pussy. Your ass."

With that, he stood up from the bed, his movements sharp and angry. I watched him, frozen, my heart still beating too fast. He didn’t even look at me as he walked toward the door. His footsteps were heavy, echoing in the quiet room. Then he grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut so hard the walls seemed to shake.

I lay there for a few seconds, too scared to move. My body was trembling all over, and I could hear my own breathing—shaky and uneven. The room felt colder now, emptier, but his presence still lingered like smoke. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm my heartbeat, but it didn’t help much.

His words kept replaying in my head, every tone, every look he gave me. It made me shiver again. But there was also this strange feeling in my chest—confusion. Why did he stop? Why did he let me go just because I said I was on my period?

If he was really as cruel and heartless as everyone said he was, then he wouldn’t have cared. He could’ve done whatever he wanted. So why didn’t he?

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as they said. Or maybe… maybe he was just waiting for the right time.