♛ As we got into a car with the Ferrara emblem on it and drove towards my "new home", I couldn't help but feel a surge of fear at the thought of living with Warren. How was I going to survive being married to a man who was essentially a stranger to me? Someone who had threatened me into an agreement which would end in me renouncing my family if I couldn't find a way out of it soon. How could I live with him without strangling him every time I saw him or moreso, without ending up dead at his hands?

As Rocco and I pulled up to the residence, my eyes fell upon the tall house surrounded by high walls and imposing gates. The structure was mostly made of glass, giving it a transparent and almost vulnerable appearance. It was an unexpected sight for a mafia man's home. One would expect a fortress, a place hidden from prying eyes, not this open and see-through abode.

But then again, this was Warren Ferrara we were talking about, and he had always been known for his audacity and arrogance. It was as if Warren wanted the world to see him, to see his opulence and power, but at the same time, he remained untouchable, even in a glass-house.

The gates swung open, revealing the entrance to the residence.

"This is where you'll be staying from now on," Rocco said, his tone monotonous.

I scoffed, unable to hide my skepticism. "A glass house? Seriously? Is Warren so confident that he doesn't need proper security?" I remarked, feeling a mix of disbelief and frustration.

"He's got guards around, don't worry," Rocco answered as the gates swung open, allowing us access to the driveway. My eyes caught sight of two large men standing guard, their presence a clear reminder of the dangerous world I had become entangled in. One of them stood at the main gate, while the other guarded the entryway to the house.

I noticed that there weren't as many guards as I would have expected, which only added to my unease.

"That's all the security there is?" I questioned, trying to keep my voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling inside me. "I mean, I thought it would be more... fortified."

Rocco nodded, understanding my concern, "it might seem unusual to you, but it's all the security he needs. No one would dare try harm him at his own residence."

I scoff again at the overconfidence as Rocco guides me towards the front door. I couldn't help but take in the surroundings. The place felt eerily quiet and empty, despite the lush garden and the sparkling pool. It lacked the warmth and liveliness of a home. It felt more like a cold, lifeless shell, mirroring the man who lived here.

Entering the house, I found myself in a spacious living area, furnished elegantly but without any personal touch. It was as if the place had been decorated for show, not to be lived in. The air felt stale and suffocating, as if the very essence of life had been sucked out of this place.

"It's so quiet," I murmured, more to myself than to Rocco. "It feels...dead. Fits Warren well, I guess," I muttered under my breath, not sure if Rocco caught my words.

"He's a complicated man," Rocco said with a sigh. "But he's not all bad, you'll see."

"Tell me why I find that very difficult to believe?" I scoffed in disbelief as Rocco shrugged at my words.

"What he's doing with you is purely for business," he replied, "it's nothing personal."

"He's ruining my life, taking me away from my family; everything I've ever known-"

"To prove he's the most powerful man in the Cosa Nostra, that's all he cares about. Being the best they've ever seen, the most powerful."

"The most ruthless," I added with a whisper.

"If need be," Rocco replied, somehow catching my words again.

As Rocco led me towards the kitchen, I couldn't help but voice the burning question that had been lingering in my mind. "Is he here now?" I asked, my voice filled with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

Rocco shook his head, his gaze steady and reassuring. "No, he's going to be away on a business trip for the next three days," he replied, his voice calm and collected, "in the meantime, I'll be keeping an eye on everything you may need."

I raised an eyebrow, correcting his choice of words," keeping an eye on me, you mean," I countered, my tone firm, "to ensure I don't run away."

Rocco paused for a moment, his eyes meeting mine, "Warren isn't worried about that," he said, his voice steady and confident, "he's seen firsthand how much you care for your loved ones, and he knows you won't try to run away or do anything to bring harm to them. He's counting on it."

His words struck a chord within me, and I found myself considering their weight. It was true—I had already shown Warren my weakness, my willingness to sacrifice myself for the sake of those I loved. He had exploited that vulnerability and used it to his advantage. And now, I was trapped, with no way out—at least for the time being.

I took the glass of water that Rocco handed to me, taking a sip to quench my parched throat.

As I leaned against the kitchen counter, a mix of resignation and determination coursed through my veins. I refused to let Warren's manipulations define me, to let him believe he had complete control over my actions and decisions.

"I won't let him break me," I thought to myself. "I may be stuck for now, but I won't lose sight of who I am and what I stand for. My family means everything to me, and I will find a way to protect them, even if it means playing this dangerous game with Warren."

As I sipped the water, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead in these next three days. With Warren's absence, would I find an opportunity to gather my thoughts, to formulate a plan? Or would it be a mere interlude, a brief reprieve before the grip of his control tightened once more?

⋅• ━━━ ••⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱•• ━━━ •⋅

After my conversation with Rocco, the rest of the night seemed relatively uneventful. He guided me to my room upstairs, which was located at the end of the hall. Warren's room faced mine on the opposite end, leaving me with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension about the close proximity. Along the hallway, there were three more rooms that Rocco informed me were guest rooms. I couldn't help but wonder who Warren's guests might be—other powerful mafia leaders, perhaps? However, exhaustion weighed heavily on me, and I decided to save my questions for another time.

Entering my new room, I couldn't help but notice how starkly different it was from my old room back home. It felt empty, lacking the warmth and familiarity that had once embraced me. The room consisted of a large bed in the center, with expansive windows that offered views of the surrounding estate. On one side, the windows overlooked a picturesque stretch of the manor, while on the other side was the door leading to a spacious dressing room and bathroom.

The room's color scheme leaned towards a palette of whites and creams, a departure from the darkness that had permeated my previous living space. It struck me as odd that the only commonality between Warren and me seemed to be our shared affinity for black, as evidenced by the predominantly black decor throughout the house. Yet, in this room, the ambiance was light and airy, contrasting with my expectations.

Feeling the weariness in my bones, I changed into a freshly laid-out pair of pajamas hanging in the otherwise empty closet. Taking a moment to freshen up in the bathroom, I finally gave in to the irresistible lure of sleep. Slipping under the covers of the spacious bed, I found myself surprisingly relieved, maybe because Warren was not present tonight. The absence of his menacing presence provided a sense of ease and tranquility that I appreciated.

As fatigue washed over me, I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the previous two exhausting nights and the short thirty-minute nap I had managed to steal earlier. A wave of relief washed over me, mingled with a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, in this moment of respite, I could gather strength to face the challenges that awaited me in this new life—a life entwined with Warren Ferrara and the dangerous world he inhabited.

Tomorrow would bring new trials, but for now, I allowed myself to find solace in the darkness, hoping that with each passing day, I would inch closer to regaining control of my life and ultimately finding a way to break free from the clutches of Warren's influence.