Tower: A Dark Romance Rapunzel Retelling (Ever After)

by Measha Stone

  Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered from Santos to Azalea before a well-practiced smile perched on her lips. “Azalea, I’m not sure your degree in graphic design can—uh—well, be put to use in my business. But, I suppose I can understand you wanting to spread your wings a bit. You’ll be twenty-three next month, and I remember wanting the same when I was your age. When I get home, we’ll discuss it further. But until then, no more worrying about the future. All right?”

  “Of course,” Azalea answered in the soft tone she’d become used to using with her mother. Bellatrix demanded respect from her employees and wanted undying love from her daughter.

  “Good. What do you have planned for today? I will be busy most of the day, but we could meet for dinner?”

  “Oh, can we go out? I heard there’s a new restaurant opening up on the waterfront.” Azalea clamped down on her excitement at the prospect of getting out into the nightlife, hoping her mother wouldn’t see how much she truly wanted to go.

  “And where did you hear this?” Bellatrix asked and sipped her coffee.

  “When I was at the library yesterday afternoon. The librarian was talking about it with the woman checking out books. She said it was the best meal she’d had in years.” Azalea paraphrased the librarian’s actual review of the meal as orgasmic.

  “Perhaps we’ll go when I get back from my trip.” Bellatrix stood from the table and ran her long fingers over her waist then down her pantlegs, smoothing out all unwanted wrinkles. “Enjoy your day, dear.” She pressed a warm kiss to Azalea’s temple and headed out of the dining room.

  Azalea sank back into her chair and let out a long whoosh of breath. No matter how much her mother doted on her, how much she professed to love her, Azalea often had a lingering darkness hovering over her whenever her mother was near.

  “While your mother is away, you will not cause me trouble,” Santos said from his place at the door. Still standing guard, but most likely more to keep her in than to keep others out.

  “I never do.” She rolled her eyes and picked up her cup of coffee.

  He laughed. “I have important business, and your little field trips are getting annoying.”

  Azalea dropped her napkin on her plate and walked to the door, pausing before him. “You heard her. When she gets back, we’ll be looking for an apartment for me. Then you won’t have to be bothered with me at all.”

  Santos’s chest rumbled with a new laugh, darker this time. Meaner. “She’ll never let you go. You’re a fool.”

  “My mother wants what’s best for me.” Azalea straightened her back. “That’s all. She’s just a little insecure.”

  Santos’s smile faded on the edges. “Bellatrix Gothel is many things, but insecure is not one of them. You’d do yourself a favor if you’d start seeing things that are right in front of you.”

  The power of the warning in his tone pushed her back a step, her eyes widened. Santos was a man to be feared, she knew that, could see it in his set jaw and the way her mother put so much of her trust in him to keep them both safe. But she’d never felt his power so easily before.

  “I’m going to the park today.”

  “I’ll have the car ready. Jackson will accompany you today. I have a meeting.” He opened the door for her exit and, once she stepped out into the hall, he slammed it shut behind her.

  A meeting.

  Everyone around here had meetings except her.

  There had to be more to life than such seclusion and so much dependency. Something electric and alive. Something that gave breath to her lungs.

  Like how she’d felt riding in Peter’s car.

  Or how it felt when his body brushed up against hers, or when he talked.

  Oh hell. She stalked up the stairs to her room to get her coat. She didn’t have time for fairy-tale thoughts.

  She had plans to make.

  Chapter 4

  “Hey, boss.” Daniel walked into Ash’s office where Peter sat at the desk going over business ledgers.

  Ash had picked a great fucking time to go on his damn honeymoon. With Peter’s club picking up business and the Annex gaining in popularity in conjunction, there was more paperwork to give Peter a fucking headache.

  “I hate when you call me that.” Peter tossed the pen onto the desk and rubbed his eyes. Ash needed to move away from paper ledgers and onto a damn computer system. Computers that had automatic calculations built in and wouldn’t force Peter to have to remember math skills he’d long forgotten.

  Daniel paused. “Well, unless you’re promoting me to partner, that’s what you are.”

  Peter blinked a few times and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Did you want something or just felt like coming in here to piss me off?”

  Daniel laughed in response and finished his trek to the wet bar in the corner of the room. “I’m heading out in a few minutes with Johnny and Travis. A collection visit. I wanted to be sure we had the address right before we took off.”

  Peter’s ears perked up. It had been months since he’d gone on a collection call. Since he put his mark on the city with Tower, he’d only been putting half the time into the Titon businesses. Including his collection responsibilities.

  His cousin Ash had given his blessing for both the club and his reduction in duties at the house and Annex, but it didn’t lessen the sense of guilt building within Peter. They were family. He couldn’t completely abandon Ash to depend on the other men; they weren’t blood.

  “What’s the debt?” Peter asked, slamming the Annex ledger closed and opening the drawer to dig out the one he wanted. Personal loans still brought in top dollar, and Peter didn’t see Ash closing up shop anytime soon. But the money didn’t come in if the clients didn’t pay back the loans with a low interest rate to cover the risk.

  “Hundred thousand. Richard Santos. He’s two weeks behind.” Daniel downed two fingers of whiskey and poured another.

  Peter flipped to the page with Santos’s debt and ran his finger along the line to his address. Ash needed more secure bookkeeping. A casual looker would see what appeared to be an address book. Names, addresses, phone numbers were all laid out openly. At first glance. But if a cop got his hands on it, they’d figure out pretty easily the phone numbers weren’t real. They’d realize they translated to the original amounts of the loans and the percentages of the interest.

  “Here it is. Six hundred North Main Street,” Peter read out loud. He looked up at Daniel then back to the book. “Is that right?”

  “If that’s what it says.” Daniel shrugged.

  When Peter decoded the address to mean the real address was 300 South Main, he sat back in his chair and scratched his chin.

  “Richard Santos? What’s he do?”

  Daniel shrugged again. “Hell if I know. He met Ash at Sampson’s, asked for the cash, and Ash gave it.”

  “You need to pay more attention to the damn details, Daniel,” Peter chastised. “You can’t be the hired gun anymore.”

  Daniel’s eyes went wide. “You usually handled that stuff. I’m just filling in here.”

  “You aren’t filling in.” Peter stood from the desk. “You’re taking my place with this shit. I can’t be handling collections, keeping watch on the girls in the Annex, and running my fucking club. You wanted more responsibilities, remember? And now you have them.” Peter buttoned his jacket and made his way to the bar. A whiskey sounded fucking good.

  “I wanted to work the Annex,” Daniel said with some force.

  “Well, you can’t keep your dick out of the girls, so you can’t be running shit over here,” Peter shot back with more authority.

  “Like you never fucked any of the girls.”

  “I haven’t.” Peter faced off with his longtime friend. “I keep my dick away from the Annex because those girls depend on me to keep them safe. I’m their fucking boss, Daniel. And I don’t fuck my employees.”

  “I’ve never once taken advantage of the girls.” Daniel squared off, rolling his shoulders back in defense.


  “I didn’t say you did. I’m saying you can’t take responsibility for them if you keep fucking them.” Peter poured himself a drink and threw it back, letting the heat slide down his throat to his belly. “So, in the meantime, you have this shit to deal with.”

  Daniel put his glass down on the bar. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t continue the conversation. Daniel would lay his life on the line for the family. He was as close to family as an outsider could be, but he thought more with his cock than his head when it came to the girls. And until he could get that under control, he wouldn’t be in charge of the Annex.

  “I could use the distraction, I’ll tag along with you.” Peter left his glass on the bar and went back to the book to double-check the address. He didn’t mention he knew the building. He’d just gotten done giving Daniel a hard time about mixing his carnal desires with business, and here he was doing the same damn thing.

  “I don’t need the help,” Daniel said. Peter had ruffled his feathers.

  “I know. I need a break from all these fucking numbers.” Peter shut the book and opened the drawer to the right, grabbing the pistol stored there and adding it to his waistline.

  Daniel looked him over slow, like he was sizing him up. Peter didn’t let it get under his skin. He’d known Daniel long enough to know he was making sure his boss wasn’t blowing smoke up his ass. Not that he’d done it in the past, but no matter how long Daniel was with the family, he was always suspicious of anyone offering anything in the name of help.

  “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

  Peter nodded and followed him out. Daniel could take the lead on this. Peter’s intentions had nothing to do with the cash. He had a bigger prize in mind.

  ღ ღ ღ

  Peter followed the three men up the steps to the front door. He looked up at the familiar window, checking for signs of her. The light was on, but no shadows were being cast like a few nights before.

  Daniel explained to the asshole who opened the door they wouldn’t be leaving until they spoke with Santos, and the little weasel of a man paled and let them in. Not much protection there.

  “Daniel.” A man, looking ten years older than the collector walked into the front hall, arms open in greeting and wide smile plastered on his dark lips. His beady eyes narrowed slightly, betraying his proposed hospitality.

  “You remember me.” Daniel ignored the outstretched arms and stood firm. “So, there’s nothing wrong with your memory. Good. You remember the last conversation we had? About a week ago, when we met at Sampson’s?”

  Peter let the other man do his thing, while he looked up the stairs, half expecting to see a blond head pop out around the corner to listen. He stepped around his men and approached a closed door on the right.

  “I said I’ll get the money, and I will. I almost have all of it, just need another day or two,” Santos said behind Peter.

  Peter turned the knob on the door and realized it was locked. From the outside. He looked over his shoulder at the scene playing out. Daniel had it under control, so he walked a little farther down the hall.

  “What’s he doing?” Santo’s asked.

  “Never mind what he’s doing,” Daniel barked. “You focus on finding the money you owe. Time’s up.”

  Another door stood at the end of the hall. It also was locked from the other side. Where the fuck was Azalea?

  “’Let’s get out of the hallway.” Peter gestured to the first locked door he’d found. “Open this door, Santos.” He tugged on the knob.

  Santos swallowed hard. “Give me a minute and I’ll get the fucking money,” he said with a bitterness to his tone. Like a spoiled child who’d been told he couldn’t have a third helping of his birthday cake.

  “Great. We’ll wait for you in there while Travis here escorts you to where you have it.” Daniel moved his jacket back to expose his gun. He wouldn’t pull it out unless more force was needed.

  Santos eyed the room like he was making a decision.

  “I wasn’t asking,” Daniel said in a deeper voice, one that left no room for negotiation or question. If Santos didn’t get moving, there would be hell to pay.

  After letting a soft curse out under his breath, Santos reached into his pocket and produced a key. Peter moved to the side to let him open the door, but once it was open, he pushed past him to get inside.

  A sitting room. A bit fancy for Peter’s taste with all the tapestry and French decor, but still just a room. So why the hell had it been locked?

  “Thanks. We’ll wait here,” Daniel said. “Travis, help Mr. Santos locate his money. And don’t hesitate to help him along if needed.”

  Travis sneered. “You got it.”

  Once Santos left the room with Travis, Daniel turned to Johnny. “Wait out in the hall and watch for them. I don’t trust that asshole and we don’t need any surprises.”

  “Got it.” Johnny went back out into the hall.

  Peter inspected the paintings on the walls. Portraits. Each of the same woman in several different poses. The woman bore little resemblance to Azalea. In contrast to Azalea’s nearly white-blond hair, this woman’s was thick and dark. Even her eyes were dark, unlike the large blue of Azalea’s.

  “This Santos asshole lives here or owns this place?” Peter asked when he finally came across a small photo of Azalea. A much younger girl when the photo was taken, but she had a bright smile on her lips, her eyes wide with joy, while the woman sitting next to her remained as stoic and serene as the paintings.

  “He lives here, but works for some woman. Don’t know much about her, though.”

  Peter looked harder at the portrait. A strong familiarity came with her eyes. The little wrinkle around them, he’d seen it before, but he couldn’t place the memory.

  Since Ash had dropped out of the businesses his own father had been in, Peter hadn’t kept track of the goings on of the other families in town. Maybe he’d seen her at a meeting or a party somewhere along the line. If that was true, that meant she worked with one of the other controlling families, and what he was going to do could cause more trouble than Ash would forgive him for.

  But that fucking door was locked.

  When Santos returned with Travis, Santos had several stacks of cash in his hands. “I’m short ten grand.” He shoved the money at Daniel.

  “Short?” Daniel arched a brow.

  “I checked his room myself. He doesn’t have it.”

  “Well—”

  “Where’s the girl?” Peter stepped forward.

  “What girl?” If he hadn’t tensed his jaw before asking the question, he might have been able to get away with his innocent reaction. But Peter had been watching men lie his entire life.

  “The one you have locked up somewhere in this fucking house, asshole. Where is she?”

  “She’s not your concern,” Santos said, with heat. Ah, maybe there was more to his job duties than being a dancing monkey for his boss.

  “She is now. Go get her.” Peter folded his arms over his chest. He’d wait, patiently, for about another thirty seconds.

  “Jackson,” Santos called out, keeping his stare fixed on Peter.

  Another man, smaller in stature but not in attitude, appeared in the doorway. Where the hell had he come from?

  “Go get Azalea.”

  “Santos.” The warning in Jackson’s voice solidified Peter’s decision.

  “Now.” Peter gave the direction himself. “Get her and bring her down here.” He pulled out his gun, holding it loosely at his side. “I’m out of patience with you assholes.”

  The room stayed silent as Jackson disappeared. If Daniel disapproved of Peter stepping in, he kept it to himself.

  A door down the hall clicked opened and closed. It had to be the locked one he’d found. His jaw clenched, but he kept his glare focused on Santos, whose color slowly drained from his face.

  The door shut again and Azalea appeared in the doorway.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. She surveyed the ro
om, taking in the scene before her. “Peter?” She stopped at him.

  “Ten grand, is that right, Santos?” Peter ignored her presence and focused on the scum standing before him.

  “Ten.” He nodded, his little eyes scanning over to Azalea then back at him. “She’s not mine.”

  “I know.” Peter holstered his gun. “She’s mine, now.”

  “I mean, she’s not mine to give,” Santos said, this time turning his head toward her. “Tell him, Azalea.”

  “I didn’t ask her opinion. I don’t give a fuck who she belonged to before, she’s mine, now, and the ten grand is forgiven.”

  “What are you talking about?” Azalea stepped farther into the room. “I’m not going with you.”

  Peter still didn’t look at her.

  “I can’t let you take her.” Santos trod forward, more of a plea for understanding than a threat, but Daniel yanked his gun out and trained it on him.

  “You don’t let us do anything, you asshole. She’s coming with us. Whatever your issues with that-—are yours, and I don’t give a flying fuck.”

  Peter walked behind Daniel and gave Travis and Johnny a nod. They’d stand down unless Daniel needed help, which he wouldn’t.

  “I’m not going with you,” Azalea said in a demanding voice. He cupped her elbow, but she yanked free and jumped back. “I’m not going.”

  Peter strode closer to her, and when she retreated, he stepped again, walking her back against the wall. Leaning in closer, he inhaled her scent. The freshly washed, sweet scent of the innocent woman he was going to corrupt.

  “Rule one, you don’t tell me what you will and won’t do.” He grabbed her chin, pressing his fingers into her face until she winced. “You are coming with me. And you won’t give me any fucking trouble, or what you saw at Tower the other night will be the tip of the iceberg for you when we get home.”

  Her eyes widened at his promise.

  “You don’t fucking understand,” Santos said, panic lacing his words. “You can’t fucking take her.”