Keeping My Captive: A Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Captive Romance (Keeping What’s Mine Book 3)
Keeping My Captive: Chapter 29

WHEN I FIRST saw Aria in the dress she decided to wear tonight, I almost told her to go back upstairs and change. But then my cock chose in that moment to override my brain, and I simply led her outside to the waiting car without demanding she put on something more appropriate and…less sexy.

Fuck, with her smooth, tan legs crossed in front of her, my eyes feast upon them, all the way down to the nude pumps on her feet. She looks like a wet dream. She did her hair and makeup, and it makes me regret buying her everything on her damn list. She’s too damn enticing, and the thought of me not being able to just have her, taste her, fuck her has my blood on fire with liquid lava coursing through my veins. I want her. She’s making me want her. And that pisses me off even more.

I skim my coin across my knuckles anxiously, staring out the window. Perhaps bringing her along tonight is going to be a mistake. I trust Cristóbal, but there are going to be a lot of people at his house; a lot of people that I don’t know or trust. I’ve never taken a woman to a gathering like this before. Aria is making me do a lot of firsts. And I don’t know if I like that or not. Although, having her in my bed every night hasn’t been terrible.

Needless to say, I have a car full of guards following behind us. Anything could happen, and I don’t want anything bad occurring while Aria is with me. So, I took every precaution necessary. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Who is hosting the dinner?” Aria asks, drawing my attention back to her.

Eyeing her suspiciously, I hesitate in answering. Is she making small-talk, or is she perhaps plotting against me? This is the first time she’ll be at a public place where she isn’t under constant supervision. “An old friend. His name is Cristóbal Espinoza.”

“And you said this is for charity. What’s the charity?”

I relax a little. It’s not like she’s asking how many floors and exits are in the place. This is a safe, normal question. “Money to support the orphans and families that have been recently deported into the country.”

“Oh,” she says in surprise. “Do you donate a lot of money?”

Curious little kitten. “Yes,” I tell her.

“Wow, that’s so…”

“So what?” I prompt, dying to hear what she was going to say.

“So human of you,” she blurts out.

Okay, so I wasn’t expecting that. “Human of me? Are you saying I usually act like an animal?” I point out derisively as a smirk tugs at my lips.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She covers her mouth with her fingertips, suppressing a grin. “I just mean that it’s very kind of you to donate to charity.”

“Ah,” I mutter in understanding.

The rest of the ride is filled with a comfortable silence. I watch Aria as she stares out the window. She looks like a beautiful, caged bird. And I have to admit, if she were mine, I would do everything in my power to keep her safe. Even clipping her wings, so to speak, if I had to.

“We’re here,” the driver announces from the front of the car.

Aria’s eyes widen when she takes in the grounds. I remember the first time I ever saw Cristóbal’s estate. I was a young teen and had never seen such opulence before in my life. I knew within the first five seconds that the man had more money than God. I still don’t know what he saw in me back then, but he helped to shape me into the man I am today.

The driveway is a mile long with flowering trees and shrubs lining it. The perfectly manicured lawn is vast and dark green beyond it. I swear Cristóbal spends most of his money on his yard. He prides himself in the landscaping. Many times, I would swing by only to be told he was out in the garden tending to his treasured roses.

When we finally reach the mansion, I hear an audible gasp escape Aria’s lips. “Wow,” she breathes.

I can’t help but grin. The place Cristóbal calls home is one of the grandest manors I’ve ever stepped foot in. But the outside doesn’t even compare to the luxury inside. I can’t wait to see her reaction once we enter through the front door.

“So, what does your friend do for a living?” Aria questions.

“He’s in the same business as I am,” I answer.

“Which is?” she asks, genuinely interested. Aria doesn’t know what I do, and I’d like to keep it that way. The less she knows, the better. It’s safer that way. For both of us.

“We deal in what people desire the most,” I explain. Then I add, “And we murder anyone who gets in our way.”

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