𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭
❝𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 . . . 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.❞
𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝗡𝗶𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘀 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗼 takes on his role as his sister's right hand man and he'll do any mi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
❝𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛.❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The feeling of the private jet hitting the runway and slowing down wakes me up.
I feel slightly disorientated as I sit up in my seat and wipe the palms of my hands down my face. What I need is to splash cold water on my face. That'll wake me up.
A groan leaves me when I realize I'm gonna have to fix my sleep schedule once again. I was only gone for two days, but the time difference is a bitch. I will have to sleep late at night or sleep in–in the morning.
That's if those at the mansion will allow me to. Such as Santiago, Tesoro, and Leonardo. They are filled with energy as soon as they wake up. No grogginess in them. They will be screaming, laughing, and talking all morning until they wear themselves out.
Let's not forget about the rest of the children who live at the Castillo Residence.
While some of my cousins and non-biological cousins moved into their own homes, some have stayed. That means their kids live here too.
I love my nieces and nephews to death but I need some peace and quiet every once in a while.
I mean there's always the choice of me going to my penthouse and staying there for a few days but I prefer being near my family.
Maybe a couple of days there will help me figure out why the fuck I haven't been able to stop thinking about Desiree since I left.
I didn't like how her smile fell when she heard that I was leaving after eating breakfast with them. She's too beautiful to be upset.
Sometime later the pilot comes out of the cabin to let me know the driver that Alessandra sent over is here. He then leaves so he can hop in a separate car that is designated for him and his crew.
I grab the backpack I brought with him, swing it over my shoulder, and leave the jet.
"Mr. Castillo," the driver greets as he opens the door for me. "How was your trip to Paris?"