Page 63 of Tower

“My mother worked in the Annex.” Peter turned around and leaned back. His hands fisted on the edge of the countertop, his eyes focused intently on her.

“I didn’t know that.” She didn’t know anything about his family. Too caught up in her own drama, she’d never bothered to find out.

“My uncle, Samuel Titon, bought her at an auction in Naples. Her own father had sold her to the American asshole for a tidy profit.”

Azalea hid her horrified reaction and remained silent. He seemed to need to get this out, and she wouldn’t stop him. Not when he opened up to her.

“She worked in the Annex. My uncle whored her out to his friends, and anyone with deep-enough pockets to fork over his price. She had no choice, nowhere to go. Hell, she barely understood English for the first few years. My father was away at school, getting his degree.”

Peter shifted his feet. “See, since he was the second son, he stood to inherit nothing. That’s how the Titon family works. So, he went and got a degree—figuring he’d help the family business with his financial expertise. He met my mother when he came home.”

Azalea eased closer to him, her hand inches away from his fist.

“My uncle sold my mother to my father. He made a nice profit, and it took my father nearly five years of working for Samuel before he paid him off.”

“Your father bought your mother?” She couldn’t understand these workings. Why would anyone think they could buy or sell another person?

“He did. And he gave her the option to leave, the moment she was released from the Annex. My father had been seeing her—well, as much as he could, given their roles in the house. Instead of taking her freedom and leaving, she married him, and although she despised my uncle, she remained. She stopped working in the Annex, though.”

“If your father was half as possessive as you are, I don’t think she could have even if she wanted to.” Azalea slid her hand on top of his, feeling and needing the connection their touch gave her.

The corner of his lip kicked up in something that resembled a smile.

“When I was a kid, I thought my uncle was perfect. He had so much power. Grown men bent to his will. He was so fucking god-like. I didn’t understand my mother’s feelings toward him. She never outright disrespected him, but she always seemed so unhappy when he was around. Ash didn’t know much about his father, either. He spent most of his time with his mother. But when I learned what actually went on in the Annex, and how my parents met…” His jaw clenched.

“It wasn’t something I could un-know. The great man I thought my uncle was crumbled like a five-day-old cookie, and I couldn’t put the pieces back together again. I didn’t understand why my father would keep working for him, or why my mother didn’t want me to quit, either. By then I was already running collections with my dad.”

“You didn’t have many choices growing up, either.” Azalea stepped in front of him, resting her hands on his hips. “I get it. You don’t want me to know anything I can’t un-know unless it’s completely necessary. You’re still trying to protect me, even though in a few days, I could be gone. I could be back with my mother, in my own bed.”

She noticed the tic in his jaw. “No, you can’t tell me I still can’t talk about it. The time is coming.”

“I don’t feel right about her. From what I’ve been finding out—there’s something wrong here.” He framed her face, his thumbs running along her jaw.

“And like my mother, you want to protect me from everything. But you can’t.” She moved up to her toes, pressing her lips against his. “I always seem to wiggle out anyway.” She grinned against his mouth.

His hands moved from her face and cupped her ass, clutching her flesh hard. “That’s not exactly an endearing quality, Azalea. Staying put is being obedient, and your obedience makes my cock hard.”

Peter pulled her against him, letting her feel the hard length of his cock pressing against his slacks.

Everything in the world was topsy-turvy at the moment. She didn’t truly know her mother, and she barely knew Peter. But she’d never once felt as safe in her own home as she did when Peter looked at her.

He’d never let anything happen to her. And whatever that meant, in whatever form his protection came—love or responsibility—she craved it.

Sliding her hands down his chest, she reached for his belt buckle, quickly undoing it while she stared into his eyes. The cocky smile she’d seen too many times to count appeared.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Whatever I want. Feel free to punish me later.” She winked and yanked down his zipper. She felt his cock, hot and unyielding, against her fingers. Wrapping them around his length, she drew it out of his pants and kept her eyes on his while she sank to the floor.

“Azalea,” he protested, but she pushed his protest away.

“Add that to my list of bad deeds.” Once she was on her knees, his cock level with her mouth, she flicked her tongue over the head. Testing the taste and texture—immediately wanting more of both.

“No.” His hand wound into her hair, pulling her back painfully until she was looking back up at him. “You don’t just take, pretty girl. You beg.” The control, the raw power of him shone down at her. She’d tried to snatch the power for a fleeting second, to give him what she thought he needed. But what he needed, what made him whole, was being the one holding her hair. Being the strength that kept the power ebbing and flowing between them. She’d get to suck his cock, but it would be on his terms.

And it struck her, staring up at him with a shocked smile paused on her lips, her body melted in his hands when he took the reins.

“Peter.” She swallowed.

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