THE MAFIA'S FORBIDDEN THERAPIST

CHAPTER 4: SAFIYA

“Come here,” Malik commanded as I stepped into the living room, and I was about to head for the door. My heart raced at his sudden call, and I turned to see him lounging on the couch, legs spread wide, the remote in his hand, his gaze fixed on the television. “Don’t make me say it again, come over here.” I nodded and approached him, stopping right in front of him.

As I stood there, silence enveloped us; he didn’t even glance my way. I fought the urge to shift my weight from one foot to the other, knowing he disliked that. I didn’t want to upset him, fearing he might retaliate in some way. I remained still for what felt like an eternity, resisting the temptation to check the time or break the silence. Then, out of nowhere, a loud clap of thunder echoed, startling me. Why had that thunderstruck? The sky had seemed so clear. Please, do not rain, anything but that.

In an instant, he yanked me around by my hand, forcing me to face him. I looked down to find him scrutinizing me, his expression a mix of annoyance, anger, or perhaps surprise, I couldn’t quite tell. My emotions were a whirlwind, and I was uncertain of his feelings as well. Yet, I was confident I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was dressed exactly as he preferred, my hijab covering my head and neck completely, leaving no trace of hair visible. I wore my Abaya, but a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. Was it because of how stylish it looked? I had chosen something modest as a Muslim wife, yet it felt modern and elegantly chic.

I wore a deep emerald-green abaya, the fabric flowing down to my ankles in soft, elegant folds. A thin, gold belt cinched at my waist, giving the outfit a more tailored and stylish look. Delicate gold embroidery adorned the sleeves and hem, adding a touch of elegance, while my matching hijab was neatly pinned, framing my face with modesty and grace. Or was it the lack of a niqab? Malik hadn’t explicitly mentioned it. This wasn’t the first time he had overlooked details, often leaving me in the dark. When I followed his instructions without the full context, his temper would flare, leading to harsh

consequences. I sensed that this might be the issue at hand, so I chose not to defend myself, after all, that had never helped. Just then, he said something that completely took me by surprise.

"You look beautiful," he said, and my gaze shot up to meet his. He was looking at me with a smile, and for just a fleeting moment, I felt a spark of joy knowing I had brought a smile to his face, the kind he used to wear when he was still human, filled with emotions, not the monster he had become. "Thank you," I replied, not out of genuine sentiment but out of fear. Yes, fear was the only thing that bound us now, not love, not faith, but sheer terror of what would happen if I left him. The thought of my life unraveling, of becoming worthless again like before I met him, haunted me. Sometimes, I found myself wishing I had never crossed paths with him; life on the streets would have been preferable to this existence. If I could even call this a life, it felt more like a cage. Though the door was open, I was still trapped, knowing that the owner of this cage would ensure I was nothing if I dared to escape.

If I were to leave this place, everything I had painstakingly built for myself would come crashing down around me. “Now you look like you belong to someone,” he remarked, his voice dripping with pride. It made me want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until I saw the light fade from his eyes, but I wasn’t strong enough for that. He knew it, and I knew it, there was nothing I could do. “Bend over that couch; I want to be inside you,” he suddenly commanded. I almost protested, wanting to say that we couldn’t do this now and that I would be late, but before I could voice my thoughts, he shoved me toward the couch, and I landed on it with a thud.

Before I could gather myself, he approached and yanked me up by the neck like a puppet, spinning me around and pressing me against the couch. He arched my back and lifted my Abaya, the cold air of the room sending shivers down my spine. Yet, I remained there, compliant, like the dutiful wife I had been molded to be.

“Do not move, I need to f**k you and fill you up with my seed, I need you to take in with child for me, that's the only thing you should be good for.” He spoke, but I remained silent, simply lying there. Then he pulled down my tights and moistened his three fingers with his mouth before suddenly thrusting them into my p***y.

“Hymph” That was the sound that escaped my lips with how rough he thrust in his fingers. Then he took them out and plunged his d**k into my p***y, thrusting forcefully while gripping my neck, grunting like a wild animal, and spewing a stream of gibberish. I managed to feign a moan here and there, but there was no real pleasure to be found. His movements were always offbeat, and he had convinced me that s*x was overrated, just a tedious and unenjoyable experience. Yet that night, I was proven wrong…… No, no, I needed to dismiss those thoughts; it had been a mistake, and it would stay that way.

Thirty minutes later

The echoes of Malik’s commands still reverberated in my mind as I stood at the imposing gates of the Grand Estate of the Rosetti mansion. The weight of what had just happened felt heavy in my chest. I could still feel his hands on me, the control he had over me, and it made my stomach churn with disgust.

This was the Rosetti name, a family that represented everything I had once dreamt of but had never known. Wealth, power, and a life far removed from the streets. As I stood before the grand gates, disbelief mingled with dread. Was this truly a chance for freedom, or merely another cage disguised in luxury? The stories of the Rossetti family flooded my mind, wealthy, ruthless, and powerful. Would I step into a world where I was just another pawn in their game?

My palms felt clammy against the cool iron of the gate. I inhaled deeply, attempting to steady my racing heart. The mansion loomed before me, an embodiment of opulence that both dazzled and intimidated me. I couldn’t shake the unease twisting in my stomach. What if this was a façade? What if I walked through those doors only to find myself trapped in another form of bondage?

“Who goes there?” a gruff, elderly voice inquired, snapping me out of my thoughts. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus on the present moment.

“Mrs. Safiya Khan,” I replied, my voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil within. Standing at the threshold of a world I had long yearned for, a mix of excitement and trepidation surged through me. This could be my opportunity to escape the past, or it could plunge me deeper into darkness. As the gates swung open, I took a tentative step forward, every nerve in my body alert to the possibilities that lay ahead.

As the gates closed behind me with a resounding clang, I realized there was no turning back. My steps echoed on the cobblestone path as I approached the grand double doors of the Rosetti mansion. Every detail of the estate screamed wealth—the perfectly manicured lawns, the glistening fountain centerpiece, and the marble steps leading up to the entrance.

The heavy oak doors opened before I could knock, revealing a man who could only be described as meticulous. He was tall and lean, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, with a sharp jawline and eyes as cold as the stone beneath my feet. He studied me for a moment before speaking.

“Mrs. Safiya Khan, I presume,” he said, his tone neutral but carrying an undercurrent of authority.

“Yes,” I replied, feeling small under his scrutiny.

“Mr. Rosetti has been expecting you,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “Follow me.”

The interior of the mansion was just as intimidating as its exterior. Chandeliers glittered overhead, casting fragmented light onto the polished floors, and the scent of lavender lingered in the air. As I followed the man through a labyrinth of hallways, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. My skin prickled with unease, but I kept my head high, refusing to let my fear show.

Finally, we reached a set of ornate double doors. The man paused and turned to me. “Mr. Rosetti is waiting for you inside,” he said before opening the doors.

The room was a study, lined with bookshelves stretched to the ceiling. A grand fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm glow on the man seated behind an enormous mahogany desk. He was older than I had expected, with silver-streaked hair and a presence that dominated the room. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and I felt he could see straight through me.

“Mrs. Khan,” he greeted, his deep voice smooth yet commanding. “Please, have a seat.”

I hesitated for a moment before obeying, my pulse quickening as I perched on the edge of the chair across from him.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you,” he began, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “And about your... situation with Malik.”

My breath caught in my throat. How much did he know? And why had he summoned me here?

“I imagine you’re wondering why you’re here,” he continued, as though reading my mind. "Let me simply say that I have a proposal for you. One that could change your life.”

His words lingered in the air, laden with implications. My mind raced, torn between hope and suspicion. This could be the escape I had been praying for, but at what cost?

“What kind of proposition?” I asked cautiously, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned forward, his intense gaze never leaving mine. "One in which you must leave Malik behind. Permanently.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Was this man offering me freedom? Or was he simply luring me into another trap?

“And if I say yes?” I asked, unable to hide the tremor in my voice.

His lips curled into a tiny grin, but there was no warmth behind it. “If you say yes, Mrs. Khan, you’ll find that the Rosetti family takes care of its own. But be warned—once you’re in, there’s no way out.”

I stared at him, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. This was it—the present time that would determine my destiny. But was I ready to trade one master for another?