Ch. 8 HER TRAUMA

Rosita’s POV

As the woman approached, I instinctively yanked the car door open, shrinking back in my seat. But the woman simply smiled, her gaze warm and delightful.

"Don't be scared, Mami, I won't hurt you," she soothed, reaching out to pull me from the jeep. "Are you here to try out to be Lord Romano's queen, too?"

I furrowed my brow in confusion, unsure of who this "Romano" character was. But before I could speak, the woman was already at my side, pulling the door wide open.

"Come on, don't be shy," she urged, her grip tightening around my wrist. "You are so beautiful, Mami. With you among the other contestants, there is a 100% chance Lord Romano will pick you!"

"I am not here for—" I opened my mouth to protest, but the woman pressed on, dragging me from the car and leading me toward the back of the growing line. The women were all half naked, with their boobs and asses on full display, while some of them were retouching their makeup.

Suddenly, a lady bumped into me from behind, causing me to stagger forward and collide with the woman in front of me. The stranger turned around, her heavily made-up eyes narrowing in a glare.

"What's your problem, Perra?!?" she yelled, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Can't you see where you are going? We are all lining up here, if you wanted to go inside so badly, you should have come earlier!"

I opened my mouth to apologize, but another woman intervened. "Oh my god, this is cheating!" she cried. "What's a witch like her doing in the line? She is going to steal the boss's heart!"

The woman in front of me scoffed. "That's not fair! They didn't tell us they were bringing in a woman who's practically a goddess to compete with us, she might as well join a beauty pageant!"

The outburst drew the attention of the surrounding women, and soon, they were all turning their fury on me.

"It's not fair!" they complained. "She meets all the beauty standards of Mexico: olive skin, curvy body shape, dark hair, especially with natural full lips and expressive eyes. Some of us are even wondering if she is even human!"

I felt my stomach somersault with discomfort under the attack of attention. This was the first time I had experienced such intense scrutiny, and it sent uneasy memories flooding my mind.

The world began to spin, my vision blurring as the women's voices combined into a harsh hullabaloo. The memory of my stalker from years ago flashed through my consciousness, and I found myself gasping for air, my hands flying to my ears in a desperate attempt to block out the noise.

"Say something, puta! She is just another crazy bitch!" someone shouted.

And then, a thick coat fell over my face, the weight of a hand on my shoulder guiding me away from the commotion. I recognized the sensation of Silvia's heels beside me, and relief flooded my system.

When the coat was finally removed, I found myself face-to-face with Silvia's stormy expression.

"Why didn't you listen to me and stay in the fucking car?" she shouted, her voice all sharp edges. "What made you think you could stand a chance against those ladies? You are not even Romano's type, even if you are beautiful. He likes bad bitches like me, not innocent little girls like you."

Silvia's outburst crashed over me, but her words barely registered. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as the memory of my stalker threatened to overwhelm me. The air around us seemed as thick as the ocean; it was hard to breathe.

Silvia's eyes widened in surprise. "Why the hell are you crying?" she demanded.

My lips parted, my left eye twitching as I tried to speak, but no sound came out. Silvia let out a frustrated sigh.

"Forget it," she muttered, shoving me back into the jeep.

I sat in silence, my gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. All I could think of was my father—his solid presence, his soothing words that had always been my anchor. And Dolores, my best friend, whose absence left an aching void.

In this unfamiliar, unfriendly world, I had never felt more alone. I longed for the safety and comfort of my golden cage, where the only battles I faced were my own desires for freedom.

***

With a heavy heart, I struggled back into the mansion alongside Silvia, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down upon me. All I wanted was to retreat to the comfort of a quiet room, to escape the spinning mess that had so abruptly upset my protected existence.

But as I moved to climb the stairs, Deangelo's deep, commanding voice cut through the air.

"And where are you going, little peasant?" he demanded.

Reluctantly, I turned, my gaze finding him standing beside the massive dining table, a group of his henchmen, including Hugo, already seated and eating.

When I failed to respond, Deangelo's voice took on an edge of anger. "Answer me when I'm talking to you. You just returned from your first mission, and you haven't even given me a briefing. Are you ignoring me? No commoner has the right to ignore me, I do the ignoring."

I swallowed hard, temporarily forgetting that I was no longer in the safety of my father's home. But I toughened my nerves, meeting his piercing gaze.

"I don't want to talk to you or anyone right now," I declared. "I just want to be left alone." Turning to Silvia, I added, "And I wasn't the one who carried out the mission. You should ask her about it."

Hugo cut in, backing up my statement. "Yes, she is right. Silvia went with the beauty, even though you made it clear you wanted only her to go. Whenever you are not around, Papi, she tends to act like the boss and forgets I'm the second-in-command."

Silvia opened her mouth to protest, but Deangelo silenced her with a raised finger, his voice soft as he approached her.

"Is what Hugo saying true?" he questioned, his voice silky as velvet. "Did you really go with the little peasant?"

Silvia reluctantly nodded. "Uh, it… It was only because she couldn't drive. She has a lot to learn, she is completely useless. She literally cried after I reprimanded her. She is too soft to be one of us!"

I watched, holding my breath, as Deangelo's expression darkened. Raising his hand, he growled, "Don’t you dare forget that you were once like her, even worse, you used to work as a whore down the street and were getting beaten by your boss every day. I took pity on you and took you, don’t make me regret it."

"I-I am sorry, boss, it won’t happen again." Silvia apologized, with her head lowered.

Seeing my opportunity, I quickly turned and made to leave, but Deangelo's voice halted me once more.

"Come down and eat," he commanded. "I don't want you to faint on me again. If you truly have an eating disorder, you will have to get rid of it as long as you are within these walls."

Resigned, I climbed down the stairs and approached the dinner table, where Hugo pulled out a chair beside him for me to sit. I settled into the seat, my gaze sweeping over the display of delicious dishes before me.

My eyes landed on a steaming bowl of chicken soup, and I reached for the spoon, ready to take a bite. But as I lifted it to my lips, I noticed Deangelo's solid gaze fixed upon me, as if he was waiting for me to eat.

Slowly, I set the spoon back down, folding my hands in my lap. "What if I do have an eating disorder?" I challenged with one of my brows raised. "I'm not going to eat anything until you take me to my father. I miss him, and I clearly don’t belong here."

My defiant words were met with echoes of laughter from Silvia and Hugo. Deangelo's face flushed with anger, and he rose from his seat, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room.

"What a pity," he mocked, snatching the soup bowl from the table. "The little peasant misses her heartless father and is homesick." He tossed the spoon to the floor, then grabbed my face, forcing my mouth open. "Well, guess what? I don’t give a damn."

Before I could react, Deangelo pressed the bowl to my lips, the hot soup splashing onto my face. I struggled against his solid grip, but he continued pouring the soup into my mouth, refusing to let me savor the taste.

Silvia's happy face came into sight, her eyes burning with satisfaction. "Yes, boss," she rumbled. "Feed it to her instead, she is a baby after all."

I choked and sputtered, the hot liquid burning my tongue, but Deangelo showed no mercy, determined to force-feed me until I had no choice but to swallow.