Page 17 of Keeping My Captive

“I see,” he says with a sigh. “And what about the girl? Who is she?”

The fact that my uncle wants to know about Aria sets my nerves on edge. I don’t want anyone to know about her, least of all him. The longer I keep her a secret, the better.

“We met on a dating app,” I joke, lying through my fucking teeth.

That earns me a loud chuckle from the other end of the line. “I don’t believe that for a second, nephew, but I’m not going to push you for information.” And then he adds, “Yet.”

The most important thing I’ve learned in my lifetime is that you can’t appear weak, and caring for someone is the biggest vulnerability of them all. At any given moment, someone is willing to take what’s yours and use it against you. I’ve gone through life like a lone wolf, not letting anyone in or getting too close. It’s done well for me so far, and I intend to keep it that way.

“She’s just some whore I picked up during a trip,” I tell him nonchalantly, hoping that he’ll buy it.

“I see. Must have been some party on the plane for her to run away from you like that.”

“She likes it when I chase her,” I say, keeping my tone light.

He laughs. “Well, maybe I’ll fly down there and have a turn with her myself. I could use the exercise,” he offers.

I flip the coin into my palm and squeeze so hard I swear blood is going to start dripping from it. “She’ll be gone soon,” I tell him, not knowing if it’s a lie or not. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with the girl yet.

“That’s a shame.”

“Did you want anything else, Uncle?” I ask, barely holding myself together. I don’t know why my newest acquisition brings me so many emotions — emotions I can’t remember ever feeling before. Just the thought of someone violating her makes my stomach churn with acid. That’s what caused me to shoot Thiago, even though the bastard deserved it for assaulting a woman in front of me.

In some fucked-up way, saving Aria from that island and her horrible fate with the man bidding against me felt almost cathartic for me. If only I had been able to save my own family…

“We’re having a problem with one of our suppliers down your way,” my uncle says, interrupting my terrible thoughts.

Now we’re at the real reason why he called. He just wanted to gossip and waste my time before, like usual. Being head of thefamilia, I could easily put my uncle in his place. But out of respect for my father, I never do, even when he deserves it.

“I need you to remind him who he works for,” he tells me. “Can you handle that, or have you gone soft over your new whore?”

“Give me the name,” I grit out, completely over his bullshit.

“Harold Cortez.”

I end the call without another word. Harold will be dealt with, most likely beginning with my fists and ending with my knife or gun. Unfortunately, for him, he’s going to take the brunt of all my pent-up frustration and anger that has built up over the past twenty-four hours.

“I’m afraid you caught me on a bad day, Harold,” I say out loud before grabbing my special black bag from the bottom drawer of my desk and heading out the door.

CHAPTER9

Aria

ISTEP OUT of the shower and instantly notice a small pile of clothing on the countertop that wasn’t there when I first came in. That means someone was in here while I was showering.

Was it him?

Was he leering at me, staring at my naked body, planning all the sick fucked-up things he wants to do to me tonight?

Even though the heat from the shower had warmed me, a cold shudder suddenly runs through me straight to my very bone marrow.

I take my time towel-drying my hair and body. Then, I sift through the clothes. They seem simple enough — a plain black t-shirt and black leggings. They don’t appear to be new, though. I can see some signs of pilling and wear on them even though they smell and feel freshly laundered.

My heart skips a beat when my imagination begins running wild with ideas as to who these clothes could have belonged to. How many women has he bought? How many women have been here before me? And where are they now? Did he rape and murder them all?

Shaking from head to toe from that last thought, I snatch the clothes and quickly put them on, not wanting to be naked and vulnerable a second longer. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My long, dark, wet hair hangs down my back, soaking into the cotton of the shirt. My eyes are wide, and I can see the fear swimming around in my irises.

“What am I going to do?” I whisper out loud.

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