Keeping his bride

Aria

IT TAKES A few days for the shipment of clothing to arrive at the compound. Several of the housekeepers take my clothes to the walk-in closet, moving Mateo’s suits and ties to one side as they fill most of the space with my things.

After they leave the room, I stare in awe at my new wardrobe. The clothes are even better than I imagined. Fine silks and designer brands. I have several new pairs of heels, but I end up cradling the beaten up Louboutins that my mom gave to me against my chest. These damn heels went through hell and back, and they remind me of her and her strength. They remind me of home.

“What’s wrong?” Mateo asks, startling me.

I turn to look at him, and he has a stern look on his face when he notices the unshed tears in my eyes. “Nothing is wrong. I just…”

“You just what?” he prompts, his frustration seeping into his tone.

“I just miss home,” I say in a whisper.

He’s quiet for a beat. “Are you going to throw those out?” he asks, eyeing the heels in my hands.

“No,” I say vehemently. “I’ll keep them. I just won’t wear them,” I explain before tucking them carefully in the back of the closet.

Mateo nods in understanding but doesn’t broach the subject. “The new clothes are what you wanted?” he asks instead.

“Oh, yes. Everything is so beautiful.” I know he must have spent a fortune on everything. “Thank you,” I tell him sincerely.

He watches me carefully when he says, “Pick out something nice to wear. We’re going to a dinner party this evening.” And then he adds, “It’s for charity,” throwing me for a loop.

Charity? God, I didn’t think Mateo had a charitable bone in his body. Considering what he does for a living, I wouldn’t imagine humanitarian endeavors being on the top of his list. I want to ask him a million questions, but I already know he won’t answer them. So, I tell him, “Okay. I’ll wear something nice.”

An appreciative sound slips from his lips before he turns and leaves.

Turning back to the dresses, I pick out one that I’ve been dying to wear ever since one of the seamstresses showed me a picture of it several days ago. It’s an Oscar de la Renta crystal floral-embellished halter mini dress. The beige lining of the dress gives the illusion that the person wearing it is naked underneath all the flowers, and the thought of Mateo seeing me in it and his reaction makes me grin from ear to ear.

I have something similar at home, but it was a full-length gown that turned many heads at the Met Gala a few years ago. This dress is a little more risque. Before I can question my decision to wear it, I grab the hanger and take the dress into the bathroom with me. I need to get ready. Not only am I excited for the party, but I’m also eager to see this new, unfamiliar side of Mateo I haven’t seen before.

As I’m showering, realization dawns on me. I’m going to be outside of Mateo’s compound. If it’s a dinner party, I’m assuming we’ll be at someone’s house. And all houses have phones.

I swallow hard as I shampoo my hair. This could be my chance. My chance to call home. Maybe even my chance to escape.

I could leave Mexico, go back to my family…and never see Mateo ever again.

Closing my eyes, I sigh before slipping my head into the spray, allowing the water to cascade over me in an attempt to drown my worries. I’ve wanted nothing more than to escape this entire time. So, why does the thought of leaving Mateo behind scare the hell out of me?

Mateo

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 Cristobal, 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.

“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 Cristobal 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.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

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 Cristobal’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 Cristobal 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 Cristobal 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.”