Page 16 of Keeping My Captive

Climbing off the bed, I look around the room. It’s extremely masculine with dark wood furniture, stone wall panels, a black shag rug under the huge bed, and a leather and metal armchair in the corner of the room.

There are no windows in this room, but there are two doors, and I open both of them. One leads to a large walk-in closet full of black suits, shirts, ties and dress shoes, and the other leads to a large, modern en-suite with a glass-encased shower and a copper clawfoot tub.

I slowly walk over to the sink and stare at my reflection. What I see there scares me. I don’t even look like myself. My hair is a ratty mess; my eyes are bloodshot; streaks of mascara are stuck to my cheeks; and my skin is covered in blood and dirt. My dress is completely ruined, and I’m quick to strip out of it. Then, I step out of my heels, take off my bra and panties and walk into the shower. Turning the water on, I make it as hot as I can stand it and then proceed to begin to scrub the grime and dirt from my body with a bar of soap I find on a shelf.

The water feels so good, so soothing that I begin to cry. And once I start, I can’t stop. My mind is assaulted by everything that’s occurred over the past few days. Selina and I getting kidnapped and strung up like animals. Constantine almost raping me but then letting me go. Me being taken to The Island and then sold to my captor. All the people who died at the club. The girl who was taken from the van and beaten into submission, possibly even to death. The man from the plane who was murdered in front of me.

So many lives taken and irrevocably changed in such a short span of time. So much tragedy. And I’m simply at the epicenter of it all, watching everything happen and having to survive somehow. But how? How can I possibly survive this?

My legs threaten to give out on me, and I slowly slide down to the tiled floor. I rest my head against my knees and sob under the spray of water. Now that I’m alone at last, I finally allow myself to grasp the gravity of my situation and breakdown.

I just hope that Selina was rescued somehow and that she’s not suffering a similar fate. That’s the only thing that keeps me sane. The only thing that gives me any sense of peace in this terrible situation.

CHAPTER8

Mateo

AFTER I FINISH explaining everything that happened at The Island to Ignacio, my number one and my enforcer, he sighs deeply and then asks, “So, what are you going to do with her?”

“The seven-million-dollar question,” I say with a smirk. “I have no idea. I really don’t know what to do. I didn’t plan this far ahead.” And maybe that’s what pisses me off more than anything. I never make a decision without first mulling over about a billion different scenarios that could happen. But when I saw this young woman standing there, I made a rash, split-second decision that ultimately could change my life. If I let it, I suppose. And therein lies the dilemma.

I take my lucky coin out of my pocket and roll it across my knuckles; a nervous habit I’ve had since I was a boy. The coin is an old aluminum-bronze peso that my father gave to me shortly before he was murdered. I never sold it, never got rid of it. It’s the only thing I have left of him, so the sentimental value alone makes it priceless in my eyes. The coin has been with me through the years, all the ups and downs; never changing, the only constant thing in my life.

“I can make it quick,” Ignacio suggests, getting my attention. He’s giving me an easy out on this whole situation. “She won’t even feel a thing.”

But the thought of him dragging Aria out back and putting her down like an animal doesn’t sit well with me.

I dismiss his idea with a wave of my hand. “I just need some time to think,” I explain. The girl hasn’t made it easy on herself so far. She’s making me lean more towards a swift death every time she runs or opens her smart mouth. But I should have known she would be a challenge based on how she acted when she was facing the most terrible point of her life on that stage. She knew she was being auctioned off to the highest bidder, and there she was, putting her middle fingers up and screaming, facing her fears and not giving a single fuck.

A smile forms on my lips when I think about the first moment I saw her. And then I notice Ignacio staring at me like I’ve grown two fucking heads. Quickly, I school my features and get back to the matter at hand. “I’ll handle her when the time comes. Until then, I’m just going to enjoy her.”

That causes my number one to grin this time. He likes the idea of me using my newest acquisition like a common whore. Little does he know that I have no plans to do such a thing. I’m going to keep my distance from the girl as much as I can until I can figure out what to do with her.

“What are we going to do about Thiago’s men?” Ignacio questions.

Sighing, with a shake of my head, I say, “Call his number two to take his place. Tell him Thiago had an unfortunate accident this morning and won’t be returning to the job.”

Ignacio cracks his knuckles. “Consider it handled.”

My cell phone rings, and I glance at the caller ID before grumbling under my breath. “I have to take this,” I tell Ignacio, who simply nods and leaves my office without another word.

“Uncle,” I answer.

“Nephew,” Domingo says from the other end of the call. “How are you this fine day?”

I rub my chin with my hand, hating the small talk. My uncle only calls when something bad or important occurs, so I decide to cut him off before he continues on with his charades. “Don’t blow smoke up my ass. What happened?” I demand.

He chuckles, and it irritates me. To say I have a tumultuous relationship with my uncle, the only surviving family member I have left, would be an understatement of the fucking century. After all these years, I still don’t trust him. How could I trust the only man who made it out of the massacre of my family alive? I still question in my mind his whereabouts that day, and I’ve been trying to prove his involvement for years, but to no avail. Until I have solid, concrete proof that he was involved with the murder of my family, I have to pretend as if blood is thicker than water between us and that I would do anything for him. Some days are harder than most, considering he can be a real thorn in my side when he wants to be.

“I heard through the grapevine that you shot someone on the tarmac of the airport this morning just before chasing a woman and holding a gun to her head.”

My hand stills, the coin resting over my middle knuckle as I grit my teeth. Even though my uncle is currently living and running his side of the family business in California, he still has connections here. And my reputation around this city isn’t exactly stellar. I can’t even take a shit without someone running their goddamn mouth about it.

“Word travels fast,” I tell him, trying to keep myself calm and my voice steady.

“It does,” he agrees. “Did the man you shot do something to offend you?” he asks.

“Yeah. He couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut. I got tired of hearing it.” At least that isn’t too much of a stretch from the truth.

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