Page 57 of Tower

“N-no. I was a kid.” Santos’s voice wavered, a smidgen, right at the beginning.

“Didn’t Jansen tell you what my decision was?” Peter asked, moving closer to Santos. The two men who’d been holding him flanked him but kept their hands off. Ready to jump in if needed.

“She won’t accept that.” Santos shook his head.

Peter gave a low laugh. He wasn’t happy, no, this laugh made her spine chill. This man, stalking toward Santos, wasn’t the same who’d climbed into bed with her the night before.

Peter reached behind him and pulled out a gun, Azalea had never seen him carry one before. Or was it always there in hiding beneath his suit jacket.

He pressed the barrel up against Santos’s forehead. Azalea froze. Would he shoot him? Right there in front of her in the office?

“I don’t give a fuck what Bellatrix Gothel will accept or not accept. If she wants to ask Azalea to go home, she’ll come here when she gets back in town. And we’ll talk about it. But Azalea is not leaving with you.”

Santos winced as Peter pushed the gun harder against his head. Small beads of sweat lined his forehead and temple; his hands shook at his sides.

Shouldn’t she speak up? Say something?

“Get the fuck out of here, and if you go crying to anyone else, or show your ugly face here again, you won’t be given the courtesy of leaving in one piece.” Peter pulled back, holding the gun at his side and keeping his glare fixed on Santos.

“When Mother gets home, tell her I’m safe. Tell her that I want to see her here, okay? Tell her I left on my own—”

“No.” Peter’s voice acted as a foot stomping onto the ground. “No, you tell her the damn truth. That your fucking debt got her in this mess. That when it came time to pay up, I took Azalea. You tell her you didn’t stop it, you stood there while I walked out of that house with Azalea.”

Santos swallowed, his jaw working but nothing being said. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded. “I’ll bring her here.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Peter announced walking over to Azalea and pulling her to his side with his gun back in his pants. “Take Mr. Santos to his car, and be sure he gets home safe,” Peter said to his men, who both nodded mutely and gave Santos a shove.

Santos looked over his shoulder once more before being pushed out the door, giving Azalea a hard glare. He blamed her. It didn’t matter that he’d gotten them both into the mess with whatever he did to have such a debt. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t gone willingly with Peter in the first place. The only thing that mattered was that once again, she’d caused trouble.

“She’ll be home in two days?” Azalea broke the silence, putting space between her and Peter. In two days, she would be back in her own room, in her own bed, under her own roof. No, her mother’s roof.

Everything there belonged to her mother. Azalea owned nothing, had nothing there. She’d resided in that house, but she hadn’t actually lived there.

Looking across the room at Peter, she allowed the truth, the things he’d been trying to make her understand finally saturate her mind. She hadn’t been alive at all. She’d been a prisoner.

“She said we’d look for an apartment when she got home,” she said, more to herself.

“Azalea, nothing is being done until she returns.” Peter seemed to sense her apprehension, her fears starting to rise up.

Pushing the darkness starting to creep into her memories aside, she put on a smile. “Right.”

Peter folded his arms across his chest again, giving her the stern look that made her body remotely activate to his every word. This look differed from the one he gave Santos. That look had been full of power and danger. This one, although enough to frighten her when he wanted it to, held the same power, but behind it lurked control and dominance. This man wouldn’t hurt her. Wouldn’t lock her away from the world.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I thought Daniel was supposed to take you into the city to sign up for a marketing class,” he said as though he could hear her thoughts.

“He did.” It had been an amazing experience, arguing with Daniel in front of the admissions woman over what address to use for her student application. Daniel had won when he pulled out his phone and threatened to call Peter for his opinion on the subject.

“When does the class start?”

“Next week. I signed up just in time. It’s online, too.” Which would make her mother more likely to not cancel the class once she returned home.

“No. No online courses. I want you in a classroom, with other people.” He shook his head, pulled out his phone, and started typing. “Daniel will take you back this afternoon to get it fixed. I’d take you myself, but I have to meet distributors at Tower, and do the final walk-through at the penthouse. They finished last night.”

“I think online is fine. I did almost all of my graphic design work online.” Fighting with her mother to keep the class after dealing with the fallback for everything that had happened wouldn’t result in a positive outcome.

“I’m sure you do.” The corner of his lips twitched.

“Are you making fun of me?” she demanded.

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