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January 10th.

Sicily, Italy

Living with him was like drowning in a pool filled with vinegar. She could feel herself struggling for a breath every day that passed. Her lungs pleaded for space, for a time out but she had no time to breathe.

Her life now surrounded him and his family, everything she did or said has to be to their pleasure. She was his wife, a member of the renowned De Pablo family, daughter of the Don and appearance was everything.

She was expected to be a loyal and dutiful wife but still looked like she belongs on the cover of Vogue. She did not understand this at first; she was a princess in her father's empire. The Consi daughter, respected and protected, off limits. Her every whim was granted given that it was reasonable. She had maids to make her bed, cook her food, clean her room and even dress her when it suited her. She was royalty, was being the key word in that sentence.

Catalina's first mistake was having expectations. She expected breakfast in bed, expected a maid to clean up after her, expected someone to make her bed, wash her clothes and cook her food. She expected special treatment as the wife of the underboss, the princes.

She hardly saw her mother in the kitchen, even though she was a skillful cook. Maria Moretti was the queen and queen were to be served or at least that was her father's mentality. It was the same for the De Pablo household except she wasn't a queen and the queen didn't like competition and spoiled little brats.

It all started on a Monday, two months after the wedding, Catalina lay in bed completely spent from the morning's escapades, her body flushed and marked. The clock on her left read eight in the morning, two hours later than she normally woke. It was not her fault that she was still in bed, not her fault that she was the last to rise. Piero liked morning sex; he enjoyed waking her up with pleasure.

Her mother-in-law, however, did not like this.

Catalina has strolled into the kitchen sharply dressed in a pair of high waisted jeans, a white shirt that was a size too big and tucked into the waistband of her jeans and black ankle boots. Hair slicked back, face free of makeup, eyes bright and spirits high. She has beamed at the crowd that gathered around the large kitchen table, walked over to the island and began fixing herself a plate.

"Slept well?" Madonna De Pablo asked, her eyes glinted wickedly but for once Catalina was too naïve to see the malice. She had gotten too comfortable, the gate that separated her from them was open and Madonna was able to waltz right in.

Rookie move!

"Si mamma." She replied, eyes leaving the food for a split second to acknowledge the queen before returning to their point of interest. Mistake number two, prince or princess, no one disrespected the Queen and the Queen demanded complete obedience and your full attention.

"What are you child?" She asked, her tone had been icy, icy enough to draw Catalina's attention. Her body stiffens at the familiar tone. Her instincts were kicking in, her skin on alert, she was thrown into the water and finally she woke. "What are you to my son?"

"His wife mamma." Catalina raised her head, her eyes found her husband and instantly fear had settled in her stomach. Behind the beautiful orbs hid an inferno of fury, burning so bright and with heat so intense, it leaped out and whipped at her skin.

"Then why do you sleep after five" Madonna asked, her words were the fuel to the fire, they were her destroyer "As a wife, you are expected to have food prepared for your husband before he heads to work, my son should not have to depend on maids or cooks, that is your job and responsibility now"

Catalina shivered, the heat was too intense, the stares to sharp, she had almost leaped out of her skin when she felt warm fingers on her quivering frame. Her head snapped up and her eyes locked with the Devil.

BOOM! It has begun, hell has exploded.