Page 18 of Keeping My Captive

This man just paid seven million dollars for me. There is no way he’s going to just let mesleepin his bed. No, he’s going to demand that I screw him, offer him up my virginity willingly. And if I don’t go along with his plans…I have no doubt in my mind that he’ll take whatever I won’t give him.

I need some kind of weapon, I think to myself.

Focusing on that mindset, I go to work, checking every drawer for something that can be used against my captor. Panicking when I come up empty, I rummage through the cabinet below the sink. I sift through body washes, soaps, bath towels, hand towels, some extra unopened toothbrushes, and toothpastes.

Nothing. There’s nothing here I can use.

“Shit!” I hiss before standing up.

I stare into the mirror once more, hoping that it will open up into a portal from another world and swallow me whole, taking me away from this place once and for all.

Dropping my head into my hands, I realize I’m out of options. The mirror obviously isn’t going to save me…

Or is it?

My head snaps up, and I stare at the glass, seeking answers. The mirror itself isn’t a weapon…but it can become one.

Before I can internally entertain any doubts about my decision, I reach into the cabinet below and grab a towel. Placing the soft cotton over the bottom corner of the mirror, I grab a heavy-looking soap dish from beside the sink. I breathe deeply, in and out, in and out, gathering up the courage to do what comes next. I hope he isn’t in the next room, and I pray that he doesn’t hear what I’m about to do, giving away the element of surprise.

As hard as I can, I drive the square edge of the soap dish into the corner of the mirror. The impact is muffled by the towel, but I can hear the glass cracking underneath the pressure.

Removing the towel, I look at my handywork. A large circle is punched into the mirror with shards of glass splintering out from around it. I take the dish and use it to knock out some pieces, which subsequently fall onto the counter.

Grabbing a washcloth from under the sink, I wrap it over my hand before I pick up the biggest shard of glass that is on the counter. I feel like a crazed woman as I swing my makeshift weapon forward, slashing through the air, practicing for what’s going to come.

It feels like do or die at this point. Fight or flight; that’s what they always say.

Well, I choose to fight.

CHAPTER10

Mateo

IT’S BEEN A long day, and I can think of nothing better to do than curling up in my warm bed and getting a good night’s rest. My hands are aching after the brutal beating I put on our wayward dealer, but I can rest easy knowing Harold will never fuck up again. If he wants to live anyway, that is.

As I’m ascending the stairs, it dawns on me that I won’t be sleeping alone tonight. I can’t even remember the last time I had anyone in my bed, and then I realize that’s because the answer is never. It will be a first for me. And it’s not because I haven’t had my fair share of women. It’s because none of them have had the honor of stepping foot inside my bedroom or even sleeping in the same bed as me. Nightmares often plague me, and they can sometimes cause me to wake up volatile. But more than that, I just haven’t trusted a woman enough to let her see me in such a vulnerable state. And we are the most susceptible when we’re sleeping or unconscious.

Earlier in the day, Sofia, one of my housekeepers, had informed me that Aria was taking a shower, and I’d instructed her to give Aria some of her clothes to wear since I had nothing readily available for my new guest.

A grin graces my lips as I reach the landing of the top floor. I wonder if Aria will be sleeping after her shower or if she will be pacing the floor, waiting for whatever depraved things she thinks in her pretty, little head that I’m going to do to her. Even though I have no intentions of touching her, the sick bastard in me can’t help but hope for the latter.

Walking down the hallway, I pause at my door, my hand on the knob, patiently waiting, listening. I hear nothing on the other side, and so I enter, expecting to see Aria fast asleep.

When I walk into the room; however, I see quite the opposite. Aria is standing on the other side of the room by one of the dressers, wide awake. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and I can practically smell her fear as I close the door behind me and remove my suit jacket. Tugging at my tie, I turn towards her and check out her current state.

She’s dressed in a black t-shirt and matching leggings; and her hair is still damp from her shower, the long strands hanging over her right shoulder. My eyes scour her petite form, and I’m pleased by Sofia’s choice of clothing and the fact she kept it easy and comfortable for our new guest.

“I’ll order you more clothes soon,” I inform her.

“Whose clothes are these?” Aria asks, and I can hear the tremble in her voice. I don’t know why, but it fucking turns me on that she fears me so much.

“Sofia’s,” I explain.

“Was she one of your whores? Did you buy her too? Is she dead?” She spits out the questions in rapid succession.

A deep chuckle escapes me. “She’s one of my housekeepers, and I assure you she’s very much alive. I figured you two were around the same size, so I asked her if she would lend you some of her clothes.”

Silence fills the room as I continue to undress. Her honey-colored eyes are narrowed as she watches my every movement like a little bunny would watch a big, scary wolf. I walk over towards the walk-in closet, undressing completely inside of it before slipping on a pair of dark gray sweatpants, forgoing a shirt. Usually I sleep naked, but I figured Aria would rather I didn’t tonight. When I emerge from the closet, I’m surprised to see that Aria has moved closer to the bed.

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