CLAIMED BY THE MAFIA DON

The mansion was not a house. It was a fortress. The Bentley drove for almost one hour. I sat at the back seat, my father's big hoodie still wet, my hands shaking on my lap, the huge diamond ring feeling too heavy for my finger. Damian sat beside me, so close that I could feel his expensive cologne filling the whole car. He didn't talk. He just looked at his phone, his face cold and emotionless, like he hadn't just forced a 22-year-old girl to marry him. We left Queens. We passed Manhattan. Then we started climbing up to a private hill where there were no other houses. Only trees and high walls. Then the gates appeared. Huge black iron gates, taller than two men, with security cameras on top. They opened automatically when they saw his car. Two guards with guns nodded at him. The Bentley drove through and stopped in front of a white mansion that looked like it belonged in a movie. I have never seen a house like that before in my life. It was three stories high, pure white, with huge glass windows, a swimming pool that was glowing blue in the night, a fountain in front, and guards everywhere with guns. It was beautiful, but it was terrifying. It didn't feel like a home. It felt like a golden cage. Ten bedrooms, a swimming pool, and guards everywhere with guns. "This will be your home now," Damian said, getting out. His voice was calm, like he was doing me a favor. "I didn't agree to live with you," I snapped, even though my legs were shaking badly and I could barely stand. My voice cracked. "I agreed to marry you." He looked at me and a small dangerous smile appeared on his lips. "Same thing, Mrs. Rossi." He opened my door for me. "Come." His hand was extended. I didn't want to take it. But the night was cold and my bare feet were freezing on the stone floor because I had no shoes. I had no choice. I placed my trembling hand in his. His hand was warm, strong, and rough. He closed his fingers around mine like a trap. I had no choice. I followed him inside. The inside was even more shocking. The floor was white marble so clean I could see my reflection. The ceiling had a huge crystal chandelier that was worth more than my entire life savings. Everything was cold, expensive, and lifeless. No family pictures, no warmth, no noise. Just white marble and money. It smelled like expensive flowers and wood polish. It was silent. Too silent. A woman in her fifties came forward quickly. She was wearing a black and white maid uniform. She had kind eyes. "Sir, you are back." "Maria, this is Elena. My future wife. Take her to the master bedroom. Get her clothes. She needs everything. Dresses, shoes, everything a queen needs." Maria looked at me with pity in her eyes. Her eyes went from my wet hair, to my old hoodie, to my bare feet. She understood instantly that I didn't want to be here. "Yes sir. Come my dear." I looked at Damian. My chest was tight. "Future wife? When is the wedding?" He didn't even look at me when he answered. He was already walking towards his office. "Tomorrow. 10am. The priest is coming here. Your parents will be there to witness." He checked his expensive watch. It was a Rolex. "Now go rest. You look tired. Tomorrow you become a queen." "A queen in a prison," I muttered under my breath. I thought he didn't hear. He heard me. He stopped walking. He turned slowly and looked at me. He smiled, a dangerous smile that made my heart stop. "You'll learn to love your prison, Elena." Maria led me upstairs. The staircase was curved and made of marble. My feet made no sound. She led me to a huge bedroom. No, not a bedroom. It was bigger than our whole house in Queens. It had a king-sized bed that could take five people, with white silk sheets. On the bed were ten shopping bags - Gucci, Prada, Chanel. Dresses, heels, lingerie. The closet was already open and it was full of new clothes, all in my size. How did he know my size? The thought scared me. The bathroom was made of black marble with a huge bathtub that could fit two people. I sat on the bed and started crying. I couldn't hold it anymore. What had I done? I was 22 years old and tomorrow I would marry a mafia killer I just met yesterday. I would marry a man I hated, a man who bought me like bread. I cried for my mother, for my father, for my small life that was now gone forever. Then the door opened softly. I quickly wiped my tears. Damian stood there with a glass of water in his hand. He had removed his suit jacket and his white shirt was tight on his muscular body. I could see tattoos on his neck. "Don't cry," he said softly, and for the first time his voice wasn't cold. It was almost gentle. "I will never hurt you, Elena. I give you my word as a man." I looked at him through tears. "Why me? You can have any woman in New York. Any model, any celebrity. Any billionaire's daughter. Why a broke girl like me? I work at a cafe. I sell bread with my mother. Why me?" He came closer. He sat beside me on the bed. The bed sank under his weight. He smelled so good that it confused me. He touched my cheek with his thumb, wiping my tears. His touch burned. It was warm and electric. I wanted to push him away but I couldn't. "Because from the day I saw you at your father's bakery three months ago, buying bread with your sweet smile, laughing with your mother, wearing that yellow dress, I knew you were mine. I have watched you every day since. Your father just gave me the perfect excuse to claim you. I have been waiting for you for three months." My eyes widened in shock. My blood ran cold. He had been watching me for three months? He had been stalking me? The yellow dress... I remembered that day. I wore my mother's yellow dress to help her. Before I could answer, before I could scream or run, he dropped the touch and stood up. His face became cold again, like he remembered he was supposed to be cruel. He walked to the door and left, locking the door behind him with a loud CLICK. I ran to the door and shook it. It was locked from outside. I was trapped. His mansion was truly my prison. ---