by Measha Stone
“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.
“I have my reasons, Azalea, but I’m not going to discuss them with you yet. Right now, you need to be a good girl and get in bed.”
“I’m not tired. How can I sleep here?” she demanded.
He released her arms, took a step back, and licked his lips. “I can help you sleep, if that’s what you need.” His stare raked over her body, and she moved back again, knocking herself into the cross.
He laughed and shook his head. “Get in bed, Azalea, before I forget I swore to myself I wouldn’t touch you tonight.”
“You said this is your room. Where will you sleep?” She inched around him and padded over to the bed, kicking her shoes off.
He studied her quietly. The little tic in his jaw was back, and his lids narrowed more the longer he watched her. She climbed onto the massive bed but didn’t slide under the covers. No way could she sleep yet.
“Stay in this room, Azalea. There’s a washroom through that door if you need it.”
She grabbed a pillow and held it over her stomach, hugging it to herself. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as though coming to terms with a decision then headed back to the door.
“In the morning. We’ll talk in the morning.” And before she could respond or register his words, he was gone. She waited for the familiar click of a lock sliding into place.
It never came.
Chapter 6
“You can’t be serious,” Daniel said with disapproval. “She’s here? Like in the house? Not the Annex?”
Peter opened his laptop and powered up. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter. Yes. She’s here. Upstairs in my rooms, probably still sleeping.” At least that’s where she had been when he left his bedroom that morning. When he’d gone up to bed the night before, she had been asleep, still hugging that damn pillow to her body and sitting up against the headboard.
Peter swung his gaze to Daniel and hardened his jaw. “She is under my protection. If any of the men so much as look at her too long, they answer to me. And she’s not in the catalog.”
The women of the Annex had choices—they could stay or leave at will. They didn’t play or sleep with anyone they didn’t agree to, and when they did agree to a contract, they had complete say over the terms. Not a single one of them lived there by force.
“I got it. I don’t get it, but I got it.” Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. “Santos was pretty freaked after you left last night.”
“I’m sure he was.” Peter leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think his boss took too kindly to coming home and finding her daughter missing.”
“His boss isn’t coming home for a few more weeks.”
“Did you see the paintings in that room? The portraits? I’m assuming those were of her. She looked familiar.”
Daniel frowned. “Yeah, I noticed that, too, but I figured we’d seen her at a meeting or something. Maybe she works for one of the families.”
“What’s her name?”
“Bellatrix Gothel,” Daniel said.
Peter tossed the name around in his mind but made no connections. An unusual name. If he’d heard it before, surely, he’d remember.
“I want you to find out what you can about her. I want to know who she works for, and what she does. Santos was more afraid of Azalea being taken than he was of us coming for the money.”
“Wouldn’t you be afraid if someone came to take Ellie while Ash was away?” Daniel pointed out.
“I’d kill anyone who tried, as would you. But this is different. Azalea wasn’t simply up in her room, she was locked up there. There’s more going on here, and I want to know what it is. I can’t place her, but I know Bellatrix is bad news.”
“What are you going to do with the girl?” Daniel asked with a tilt to his lips.
“That’s not your concern, asshole.” Peter went back to logging onto his computer. “You make sure she doesn’t leave the grounds and that she’s safe when I’m not with her.”
“She can roam the house?” Daniel asked with some surprise.
Peter looked at him over the top of his screen. “She’s not a prisoner here, Daniel. She just can’t leave the estate. And if she goes outside, I want a man with her. For her safety.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows but kept his opinion to himself, for which Peter was grateful. He hadn’t figured out what the hell to do with her yet. He only knew he needed her with him at the house.
A knock on the door preceded Johnny entering, a canary-eating grin on his lips. “Your damsel is looking for you.” He jerked a thumb at the door.
“His damsel?” Daniel chuckled.
“Yeah, the girl he took last night. The blond.”
Peter’s stomach twisted. “Her name is Azalea,” he ground out. They weren’t acting any different than any other day, but they were talking about Azalea—not some girl off the street looking for a payday.
Johnny straightened out his smile. “Right. Sorry. Azalea is looking for you. I showed her to the kitchen and asked Maria to make her something to eat then said I’d get you.”
Peter waved him off. “Fine. I’ll be there in a minute. Go find something else to do.”
“One more thing,” Johnny said. “Aubree stumbled in at two in the morning, piss drunk.”
“So?” The girls were free to come and go as they wished. If she went and had a bit of fun, that was her business.
“She hadn’t checked out before she left. No one knew where she was until she came home,” Johnny finished explaining.
Peter blew out a breath. He had enough to deal with at the moment, and handing this little problem to an employee was tempting. “Fine. I’ll meet with her this afternoon. Let her sleep it off.” He closed the laptop, giving up on getting any research done. “Daniel, go away. You’re annoying the fuck out of me this morning.”
“I didn’t do anything yet.”
“Exactly. Go get some work done.” Peter walked out of the office.
ღ ღ ღ
Peter found Azalea sitting at the small breakfast table in the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee nestled between her slender hands. She stared out the large windows into the gardens in the back. Not wanting to disturb her yet, he gave a small nod to Maria, excusing her from the kitchen.
Maria had been working for the Titon family since he could remember, and it didn’t take any more than the small gesture for her to get moving. She gave one cursory look toward Azalea before leaving, letting him know in her own way that she had concerns about the situation. She may worry, but she wouldn’t vocalize her doubts, or get involved.
Once the kitchen cleared, Peter cleared his throat softly, nudging Azalea out of whatever thoughts she’d lost herself in. She turned toward him. Her body stiffened the moment she faced him.
“Good morning,” he offered gently.
“Morning,” she replied and brought her cup to her lips. She’d combed her hair before coming down, but she still had the freshly woken look about her. A small crease from the pillowcase embellished her left cheek.
When he’d found her sitting up the night before, he’d maneuvered her under the covers and gotten her comfortable before climbing in with her.
; “Did you eat something? I can have Maria make you eggs if you want, waffles, maybe?”
“I’m fine,” she said flatly, taking another sip of coffee.
Peter poured himself a cup and joined her at the table. Soft beams of sunlight streaming through the frosted windows cast an angelic glow around Azalea.
“Sleep okay?”
“No.”
“You looked pretty damn peaceful.” He kept his irritation mostly in check, but he didn’t like being ignored, and she was doing her best to make him feel cast aside.
“You checked on me?” Her large eyes moved up from her coffee to him.
“I slept right beside you.” Ah, there it was. The little flash of surprise. “How do you think you got under the covers?”
“I—” She snapped her mouth closed. “Will you be taking me home today?”
“We covered that topic pretty thoroughly last night. You aren’t going home.”
“You said we would talk,” she pointed out.
He sipped his coffee. Maria had used the dark roast.
“I did say that.”
“So—talk,” she urged him.
“I expected less attitude from you this morning.”
“You’ll have to forgive me. I’m new to this whole abduction thing.” She grabbed her cup, spilling a drop onto the table before bringing the mug to her lips.
“Tell me about your mother.” He decided to ignore her jab. If she wanted to talk, he had a few questions.
“What about her? She’s a mother.” Azalea faced him.
“What sort of work does she do? Your father? How about him?” He didn’t recall seeing any pictures of a man in the library there.
“She’s in sales or something. I’m not entirely sure.” Azalea’s voice softened. “She’s going to be very upset if I’m not there when she gets home. You don’t understand.” The same sense of urgency laced her words as the night he’d driven her home from Tower.
“Any mother would be upset—”
“No! You don’t understand. If she finds out you took me, if she finds out I’m not home—” She lowered her head.
“She’ll blame you?”
“Just let me go home.”
“That’s not happening. Tell me more about her. Why lock you in your room?”
“It was for safety,” she said with gritted teeth. “Do you think you saved me from something? Because you didn’t. You’ve made it worse.”
“Made what worse? You’re talking in circles.” Peter leaned forward, ignoring his coffee. “I want a straight answer. Why were you locked in your room?”
She took a deep breath. “My mother lost a daughter before I was born. She was kidnapped and never found. So, my mother is a little overprotective. Scared it will happen again.”
“You’re not a child. And your door was locked from the outside. Keeping you in, not people out,” Peter pointed out.
Azalea rubbed her forehead. “She wants to be sure I don’t get hurt.”
He could piece together the truth of it. Azalea didn’t want to be stuck inside, so she’d go out, and to be sure she didn’t stray from the house, she was locked in.
“And your father?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember him, and Mother doesn’t talk of him.”
He hadn’t had the most traditional family growing up, but he remembered both of his parents. Knew what lengths a parent would go to to protect their child, but still, he couldn’t see either of them locking him away in the name of safety.
“And Richard Santos?”
Azalea put her head back and let out a groan. “He works for my mother, keeps the house safe. Now, you answer me. Why did you take me? If Santos owes money, my mother will pay it for him.”
“You’re here because I want you here. That’s all you need to know.”
“You talk about my mother with contempt, as if her keeping me safe is some unthinkable crime. But, you’re the same. You didn’t lock the bedroom door, but I bet if I walk out the front door, your men will stop me. I’m just as much locked in here as I was there. And you’ll say it’s for my safety.” She pushed the cup away and stood from the chair.
“I’m sure it seems the same to you, but it isn’t.” He couldn’t offer any more than that, seeing as he was acting purely on gut instinct.
“I want to go home.” She slammed her open palm on the table, knocking over her mug. What little coffee was left spilled.
He stood and walked around the table until his chest was butted up against her shoulder. Snaking his hand beneath her long hair, he fisted it and pulled her head back, eliciting a soft yelp.
Bringing his mouth to her ear, he inhaled her scent.
“Temper tantrums don’t work for me. Clean up the mess you made.” He shoved her forward until her mouth hovered over the spillage.
“I hate you,” she said in a harsh whisper.
“That’s fine with me. Now, clean it.”
Her hands flailed behind her, trying to get hold of him, but he snatched up the closest one and pinned it to her back, forcing her to use the other to steady herself over the table.
“Your tongue, Azalea. Clean it up with your tongue.”
She stomped a foot, but it made no difference. She wouldn’t be getting back up until every drop of the coffee was clean and she understood who held the power.
After a long pause, her little pink tongue slipped out, and she ran it over the droplets. It took several licks to clean the area, and by the time she finished, his cock was as hard as the granite tiling of the floor they stood on. It was supposed to be punishment, but she made it as seductive as a striptease—and probably didn’t even know it.
“Good girl.” He pulled her back upright and used his thumb to wipe a bit of coffee from her chin.
She pinched her lips together but didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to, he knew anger when he saw it. But he also knew arousal when he saw it, and her eyes were as dilated as they had been at Tower when she’d watched him whip Cassandra.
“I don’t want to hear another word about going home. If you bring it up one more time, you’ll be punished.”
“Some hero you are,” she ground out.
He chuckled and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I never claimed to be a hero, but I’m not the villain here, either. Now, I have to see to some business. I’ve had a few dresses brought to our room. Shower and put one on. Either stay upstairs, or you can explore the estate. You may not leave. There will be men with you if you go outside, but you may wander the gardens as much as you want. The Annex is off-limits until I can give you the tour myself. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Yes.” She spat the word. He didn’t miss her fisted hands or how tight her jaw clenched, but he wasn’t going to console her yet. The sooner she understood the dynamic, the sooner she’d relax into her new home.
He let go of her hair and smoothed it before stepping away from her. “I know you’re confused, and when I’m ready, I’ll explain everything. For the time being, you’re going to have to trust me.”
“Because so far, you’ve given off that trustworthy vibe.” She folded her arms over her chest, covering her breasts but also pulling the neckline of her dress down enough to give him a peek at the swollen mounds beneath.
“I suggest you start controlling the sarcasm and snark, or I’ll do it for you.” He touched the buckle of his belt, and grinned when her eyes widened. If he touched her, he had no doubt he’d find her wet and wanting, but he wouldn’t. Not yet. Soon.
“More threats.”
“I don’t threaten. I mean what I say. Always.” He lived by his word. His father had embedded that into him from a young age. Never threaten, always deliver, and mean everything you promise. His father had lived by that, and Peter would do the same.
“Don’t you have work to do?” she asked, taking some of the bite out of her tone.
He watched her silently then backed away from her. “Go on.” He waved her off.
Wa
tching her leave the kitchen with her back tense, her hands fisting at her sides, made his own muscles lock up, but he wouldn’t go after her. He’d let her stew for a little while longer. Once he had more answers, when he could start piecing the faded memories together then he could tell her everything.
But not until then.
Until then, she’d learn to follow his lead. She’d obey him, or she’d face the consequences.
Chapter 7
The damn dress fit too snug. Azalea pulled at the hem again. She didn’t like having such tight-fitting clothing. She wanted her cotton dress back. Or some yoga pants. Anything that would cover more of her body.
Where the hell had he gotten these dresses?
Azalea made her way down the staircase to the main floor of the house. She kept herself tucked away all morning and needed to get out of the room. His room. Where everything smelled like him and reminded her of him.
He’d slept with her. She didn’t remember him climbing into bed, but she also didn’t remember falling asleep. The last memory she had of the night before was holding the pillow against her and planning to get up and find a way out of the house as soon as enough time passed from his leaving her.
Peter told her if she went outside someone would be with her, but she didn’t see anyone when she stepped onto the bottom landing. No men guarded the front door, and she couldn’t see anyone in the large living room right off the stairwell.
She made her way to the front door, thankful her soft-soled shoes didn’t make any sound. After another look around and assuring herself she was indeed alone, she grasped the knob and sighed happily when she found it turning with ease.
The door opened silently, and she squeezed through a small opening and gently pulled it closed behind her. It had been dark when Peter drove her up to the house the night before, but she had a good sense of where she was. She needed to get outside the gates then down the hill to town. Once there, she could grab a cab home. Santos would pay the driver once she was there.
But first, she needed to get through the gate. All she could do was hope the mammoth from the night before wasn’t there. Unless she could find another way through. If he was there and she had to abort her attempt, she’d at least learn a bit more of the layout. She’d been sneaking out of her own house for many years; she could manage to get out of this place.