Page 61 of Tower

“I already told you—it’s your call.” He stood up and touched her cheek. “You can’t do anything about that right this minute. Wash your face and get changed.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“I’m taking you to the school to change your class. Staying with your mom or me or on your own, I think taking marketing will boost your own marketability. You have a talent for graphics, but you put some marketing behind that, and you can really take off.”

“What if I don’t want to take this class? What if I want to just stick to graphic design and leave it at that?” she asked, obviously testing his new decision to let her have more say.

“If that’s what you seriously want, then I won’t take you. We’ll cancel your registration and be done with it.” As much as letting her miss the opportunity would grate on him.

“Okay,” she said, pushing off the chair and disappearing into the bathroom. He stared at the closed door.

Okay, she wasn’t going, or she was? He sighed. This whole not demanding things of her and letting her walk her own path was going to make his head hurt.

A few minutes later, she reappeared with a clean face, no makeup as he hadn’t bothered to get any for her. She was too beautiful to hide behind all that muck of mascara and eyeshadow. She vanished into the closet next. After another minute or two passed, she presented herself in a clean, button-down cotton romper that barely covered her entire ass.

Another of Aubree’s damn outfits.

“No, go back in there and change.” He wagged a finger at her. No fucking way he was taking her on a college campus with her ass cheeks hanging out the bottom. “It’s too fucking cold for something like that anyway,” he justified his order.

She laughed. “You lasted an entire five minutes before you started giving orders again.”

He relaxed his jaw. “You’re testing me?” He took a step toward her. “You’re playing games with me?”

Her laugh died, and her smile dropped as he walked her back into the closet. Once she was inside, he grabbed the door handle. “Find something more appropriate. I said I wouldn’t force you into anything, but I draw the line at letting anyone put eyes on what’s mine.”

Before she could protest, he pulled the door closed. He’d wait.

All day if he had to.

Chapter 19

Peter tried. He did give it a lot of effort. Azalea could give him that much credit.

But the man didn’t give up control easily. He won the wardrobe challenge, not that she had planned on leaving in such a skimpy outfit. Besides the fact the chilly fall wind would cut right through the thin fabric, she had no desire for anyone to see her butt hanging out of the outfit.

Well, anyone other than Peter.

And now that she saw his jealous side—and how much his possessiveness turned her on—she had a new card to play. It probably wasn’t very honest to keep goading him until he lost a thread of his control and pulled her up to the bedroom for an afternoon of passion. But, he was a smart man. He knew what she was doing. Thankfully, he never called her out on it. He was too caught up in the moment, which was exactly how she wanted it.

He’d behaved—mostly—while they changed her class from online to on campus, but once back at home, he returned to barking orders.

She dressed in another dress for the evening, since he was taking her to Tower. She’d taken extra time to wash, dry, and curl her hair. Peter hadn’t brought her any makeup, but Aubree had been sweet enough to pick her up the bare essentials. Even her mother had let her wear mascara.

Checking one last time that her earring had the backing in place, she stepped out of the bathroom. Peter had gone to his office to deal with a situation, telling her to go back to his private box once she was finished in the washroom.

One of the security guards followed a few steps behind. Never completely encroaching on her, but near enough for her to be aware of his presence. She sensed this man, unlike Santos, was there solely to protect her, not keep her from running off.

As she neared the box, she noticed two men in staff shirts loitering near the door, holding brooms but not quite using them. She didn’t know anyone at Tower, but they didn’t look like they belonged. Their shirts were wrinkled, not starchily pressed like the other men she’d seen. And they kept casting glances at her while she walked, and checking behind them.

The guard would intervene if something was wrong, she assured herself when her heart beat faster. The closer she stepped to the entrance, the more the men stared.

She reached for the clasp on the velvet rope separating the area with a shaky hand. Maybe her mother had returned early. Maybe she’d sent men to snatch her back before Peter could interfere.

Looking behind her, she noted the guard was gone. With a panicked breath, she turned to the other two men. They were slowly putting down their brooms. She could run back to Peter’s private washroom and could lock herself in. But she didn’t have a phone. Would Peter find her?

“Azalea, don’t worry,” the taller of the two said. She couldn’t place his accent. “We aren’t here to hurt you.”

She took a step back, the heel of her dress catching the hem of the damn dress Peter had picked out. Stumbling back, she grabbed the back of a chair and righted her footing.

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