Page 59 of Keeping My Captive

“Alright,” he agrees before taking the shoes with a confused look on his face.

He’s probably wondering why the hell I want a pair of heels repaired, but I don’t have time to explain. I have a birthday party I need to prepare for.

CHAPTER44

Aria

WHEN I WAKE up, I notice the bed is empty, but there’s a note resting on Mateo’s pillow. I read the masculine script over and over again, trying to make sense of it. He wants me to stay in the room until he comes to get me later this evening and also to look nice for something special he has planned.

I set the note down, wondering what the “something special” could possibly be. Yesterday, Mateo let me sleep most of the day away while he was holed up in his office, acting all secretive and shit. Something is definitely going on, but I have no idea what he’s up to. Not like he would even tell me. He obviously wants this to be some sort of a surprise.

I spend most of the day racking my brain and trying to figure it out, but then ultimately give up and end up distracting myself fromthe thing that shall not be namedby soaking in the clawfoot bathtub for hours until my fingers turn pruney. After I’m done, I dry off, do my hair and makeup and go to the closet to pick out an outfit. I end up settling on a cute, navy blue eyelet embroidered patchwork shirtdress with a belt. I complete the look with a pair of strappy heels and pop some red lipstick on my lips before patiently waiting. Since I don’t have a clock, time has no real sense here. I could be waiting for ten minutes or a half an hour and not really be able to tell the difference unless I count the seconds down inside my head.

Eventually, though, the door opens, and Mateo steps in, looking debonair in a black suit with his hair perfectly in place. Although I love the unruly look he always seems to be rocking when it comes to his hair, this put-together style is hot too.

“You look gorgeous,” he tells me, his eyes devouring me.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I remark. “So, are we leaving the house for this special occasion?” I ask, desperately wanting to know what is so unique about today.

“No, we’re staying home. I have everything ready downstairs.”

“Oh.” My curiosity is piqued. Maybe he planned a dinner party? I just hope it goes better than the one we went to in the past. I guess if I don’t end up being assaulted by a stranger, I’ll call that a win.

“What’s wrong?” Mateo asks, perhaps sensing my discomfort from my inner thoughts.

“Nothing. Just wondering what’s going on.”

“You’ll see,” he says cryptically before reaching out his hand for me to take, which I do. He leads me down the stairs, and the first thing I notice is how many balloons there are. Arches of balloons above all the doorways, balloons covering the floor and helium balloons dancing across the ceiling. “Is it someone’s birthday?” I whisper conspiratorially to him right before I see several people jump out from the next room and yell, “SURPRISE!”

Ignacio, Flora, Esmeralda, and most of the staff are standing at the bottom of the stairs looking expectantly up at me. Confused, I glance at Mateo, who has a roguish smile stretched across his handsome face. “It’s your birthday?” I question.

“No,” he answers. “It’s yours.”

Suddenly, I feel the sensation of dropping down a very steep slope of a rollercoaster. I have trouble breathing as my chest tightens with anxiety. If it’s my birthday, then that means that months have passed. Months without seeing or hearing from my family and friends. Months that have passed with events and parties and special occasions that I will never get to experience or relive. Months that I’ve been held captive against my will with no promise to ever be let go.

I’m barely aware that we’ve made it to the bottom of the steps until Mateo grips my chin in his hand and forces my gaze to his. “Aria, what’s wrong?” he insists, confusion and worry thick in his voice.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” I mimic him, giggling before laughing hysterically.Oh god, I think I’m finally losing my mind.

Mateo turns to Esmeralda and tells her, “Take everyone to the kitchen. We’ll be there shortly.”

Once we’re alone, Mateo grips my arms, shaking me gently. “Talk to me, Aria,” he orders.

“How long?” I blurt out.

“What?” he questions.

“How long have I been here, Mateo? How long?” I demand.

He checks his watch, and then quickly says, “Three months, eleven days, six hours and twenty-eight seconds.”

I’m stunned speechless by his words. He knows down to the very second? “Wait…” My voice trails off as all of my panicked thoughts are suddenly consumed by one burning question. “How do you know that?”

His dark eyes pierce mine as he states, “I keep track of the important things in my life. The things that matter.”

It takes a moment for his words to slowly sink in. Mateo isn’t the kind of person who comes right out and says exactly how he feels. You have to constantly read between the lines when it comes to him, but this is the most precise he’s ever been with me.

I matter to him. I’m important to him. And he knows how long I’ve been here down to the minute and even the second.

---