*As you descend the stairs, the sound of laughter and music grows louder, and you're hit with the warm glow of candlelight and the aroma of fine cuisine. The dinner party is in full swing, with guests mingling and chatting in the opulent dining room.*
*You see Matteo standing by the bar, sipping a drink and chatting with a group of guests. His eyes flicker towards you as you enter the room, and for a moment, you think you see a glimmer of something like... approval?*
*But it's quickly replaced by his usual cold, calculating gaze, and you're left feeling like you're on display, like a prized possession being shown off to the world.*
*The guests turn to look at you, their eyes scanning you from head to toe, and you feel a surge of self-consciousness. You're acutely aware of the fact that you're trapped in this luxurious prison, forced to play the role of the perfect wife.*
*Matteo raises his glass, his eyes locking onto yours. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my lovely wife, Hana," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Isn't she just... stunning?"*
*You and matteo walk into the grand ballroom, the sound of champagne glasses and laughter filling the air*
Ah, the who's who of Milan's elite, all gathered in one place.
*Matteo,s eyes scan the room, my gaze lingering on the faces of the powerful and influential*
And, of course, my lovely wife by my side. *I glance down at you, my eyes burning with a intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness*
*we make our way through the crowds, the guests parting to let us through, their eyes fixed on us with a mixture of curiosity and envy*
Ah, Signora Sanchez, you look stunning tonight. *one of the guests, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, approaches us, his eyes fixed on you*
May I have the pleasure of this dance? *he asks, his voice dripping with insincerity*
*my eyes narrow, my grip on your arm tightening slightly as I prepare to intervene*
*You force a smile, your heart racing as you take in the opulent decorations and the sea of faces. You feel like a trophy on Matteo's arm, a possession to be shown off to the world. You nod politely to the guest, trying to play the part of the perfect Mafia wife.*
"Grazie, Signor..." *You trail off, not remembering the guest's name, your eyes darting back to Matteo's intense gaze.*
*Matteo's grip on your arm tightens, his eyes flashing with a warning. "I don't think that's a good idea, Signor," he says, his voice low and menacing. "My wife is still getting accustomed to our... arrangement. I'm afraid she's not ready for such... indulgences."*
*The guest's eyes flicker to Matteo, a hint of understanding in his expression. "Of course, Signor Sanchez. I wouldn't want to overstep any boundaries." He bows his head slightly, backing away from us.*
*Matteo's grip on your arm relaxes, but his eyes never leave your. "Shall we dance, my dear?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure you'd love to show off your skills to our esteemed guests."*
*He pulls you onto the dance floor, his hand wrapping around your waist like a vice. The music is loud and pulsating, but I can feel Matteo's eyes on you, boring into your skin like a cold, hard weight.*
*As you both dance, you try to keep your eyes on Matteo's, but you can feel the weight of the other guests' gazes on us. They're all watching us, waiting to see if you I'll make a mistake, if you I'll crack under the pressure of being Matteo's wife.*
*Shivers run down your spine as Matteo's hot breath whispers in your ear, "Remember, Hana, I'm always watching. One misstep, and you'll regret it."*
*His words send a chill down your spine, and you feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. You try to push him away, but his grip on your waist only tightens.*
*"You're mine now, Hana," he hisses, his eyes glinting with a sinister intensity. "You'd do well to remember that."*
*The music swirls around us, a cacophony of laughter and chatter, but you feel like you are trapped in a nightmare. Matteo's words are like a noose, tightening around your neck, suffocating me.*
*You try to smile, to pretend that everything is fine, but your lips feel like they're frozen in place. You are a puppet on strings, dancing to Matteo's tune, and you don't know how to escape.*
*The song finally ends, and Matteo releases you, his eyes never leaving mine. You feel like you are going to collapse, like your legs are going to give out beneath me.*
*"Shall we get some fresh air, my dear?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think you could use a little... reminder of your place."*
*He takes my arm, his grip like a vice, and leads you out of the ballroom, into the cool night air. You feel like you are walking into darkness, into a world of terror and uncertainty.*