Page 15 of Tower

He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the bed, making his way toward her.

“Why did Santos have your room locked?”

It took a moment for her to register the change in topic. She hadn’t realized the door had been locked, but she wasn’t surprised. With her mother gone, Santos had the burden of making sure she didn’t wander around town, especially at night.

“It’s a safety thing,” she said, unsure why she felt the need to defend her mother’s way of keeping her safe.

“A safety thing?” He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled each of them up to his elbows, exposing dark ink swirling across his forearms in patterns and words she couldn’t make out from her position.

“The other night, you needed to get home in a hurry. Like you were some teenager breaking curfew. And tonight, I found you locked away in your room. What’s going on over there on Main Street?” His jaw tensed and his stare molten when he finally met her gaze.

“N-nothing. My mother is overprotective.” He would never understand.

“You’re a little old to be living with an overprotective mother. And that doesn’t explain why locking you away is for your safety. All I had to do was order Santos to get you, and you were served up. So, I’d say it had more to do with keeping you in, and less about keeping others out.”

“Is that why you kidnapped me and locked me up here? To save me from some twisted version of my life you’ve built up in your head?”

He was only a pace away.

“I didn’t lock the door, Azalea.” He folded his arms over his chest. Without his jacket to hide his physique, she could make out the built muscles of his shoulders and his chest. She wondered if the tattoos ran all the way up his arms and how much more of him they covered.

“What?”

“I didn’t lock the door. But it’s interesting that you assumed you’d be locked in.”

Of course, she assumed it. He was keeping her captive. Why the hell wouldn’t he have locked the damn door?

She closed her eyes and took a slow breath. “Just-I—Take me home, Peter. My mother will pay the money Santos owes you. You don’t have to do this.”

“Your mother. Another topic for discussion. But not yet. Not tonight. Tonight, you need rest.” He didn’t move, but she could feel him intruding on her.

“I want to go home.” She fisted her hands.

“I know you do. But it’s not going to happen.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why am I here?”

He took the last step, closing the space between them, and grabbed her arms. Giving her a little shake, he said, “Because this is where I want you to be. And that’s the only answer you’re going to get tonight. You have two options, Azalea. Get undressed and into bed, or you can go over my knee for a punishment.”

“Punishment?” She placed her hands flat against his chest, stabilizing herself more than trying to push him away. He had a hard grip; she wasn’t getting out of it.

“Disobeying me. That’s punishable,” he said in a soft voice. “Start as you mean to continue, and I don’t allow disobedience, Azalea.”

“You kidnapped me,” she said. He couldn’t possibly think she’d simply go along with him. She needed to get away. She needed to get home.

“You aren’t a prisoner here,” he said, as though that one sentence cleared up everything.

“But you’re going to punish me?” Her voice cracked. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh or cry. The man was deranged.

“Not if you make the right choice, although from what I could make out of your ass on the street, I wouldn’t mind taking this dress up again and smacking that round ass of yours a few times.”

If he hadn’t smiled when he said it, hadn’t looked so fucking handsome, she could have thought of a retort.

“Choices, choices.”

“Will you let me go home tomorrow?” she asked softly. Maybe if the hope was there, a little carrot dangling before her, she could give in to him a bit easier.

He shook his head, putting out the light peeking from the end of the tunnel.

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