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I move to step around her, but she slides over, blocking my way again and then turns her body seductively, biting her bottom lip, her smile shifting from sultry to suggestive.
“Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?” she coos. “I’m pretty handy.”
She's bold and makes what she’s after more than obvious. She’s also a very pretty girl, there’s no question about it. I’ve got no doubt she’ll be able to bed whoever she wants to bed when the mood strikes her. But she doesn’t hold a candle to Bree in my eyes. No one in the world does. And I don’t have time for this.
“I’m sure you are,” I reply. “But as I said, I don’t need your help. Thank you anyway.”
I step around her and head for the elevators without a backward glance. I hear her muttering under her breath as I go though, obviously needing to call my sexuality into question to justify my rejection. I don’t care though. Let her think what she wants to think. She doesn’t interest me. I step into the elevator car and take it up to the third floor then make my way down to the room the registrar has Bree listed in.
The door is ajar when I get there, and I hear Bree’s raised voice telling somebody to get out and leave her alone. A hot shot of rage hits my veins and I push the door open just in time to see a kid standing close to Bree. His hand is on her hip, and he's got her pressed up against the wall. With a look of fear on her face, she puts a hand on his chest, trying to push him away but he grabs her hand and pins it to the wall behind her then leans in and tries to kiss her.
“What the fuck is going on here,” I growl.
I grab the kid by the back of the neck and fling him backward. He crashes against a table and gets his feet tangled up, going down hard on his ass. As he struggles to get back to his feet, I put myself between him and Bree. He’s a couple of inches shorter than my six-four frame and he’s fit. He’s long and athletic. I played some football back in college and he’s built like a safety. The kid’s hair is dark and stylishly mussed and he’s got light brown eyes that are currently trained on me, anger flashing dangerously in them. But he quickly sizes me up and I see that light go out of his eyes. He doesn’t want to fight after all.
“It’s time for you to go,” I say, my voice cold and menacing.
The kid puffs himself up, not wanting to lose face in front of Bree but it’s all for show. There’s no substance behind it. A smirk crosses my lips because I can see that as clearly as I can see the sun in the sky. And judging by the way his cheeks flush he knows I can see it.
“Yeah. Whatever,” he says, trying to salvage some of his swagger. “I didn’t want anything to do with her anyway.”
“That’s good because she’s way too good for you, kid,” I say. “Now, get the fuck out of here before I decide to teach you a lesson in manners.”
He scoffs hollowly but leaves the room, making sure to slam the door behind him. With the threat gone, I round on Bree who’s leaning back against the wall with her arms folded casually over her chest, grinning at me.
“Who the fuck was that?” I demand.
She sighs. “That was Brock. He went to Oakwood Prep with me.”
“And what the fuck was going on here?”
“Nothing,” she says, raising her chin defiantly. “We went out a couple of times at Oakwood. But nothing happened. He still thinks he has some sort of claim to me or something.”
“Did you screw him?”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I cringe inwardly, knowing it makes me sound like a jealous lover. I’m not her lover, obviously. She’s my goddaughter for Christ’s sake. But the thought that a little punk like that kid had Bree, that he was inside of her, makes my gut physically clench with a twinge of jealousy, unlike anything I've felt before. He has no claim to her. Nobody has a claim to Bree.
“No. I told you, nothing happened, Uncle Bastian,” she says, her lower lip quivering.
I study her for a long moment then nod, choosing to believe her. Choosing to believe that she remains untouched and pure. That she remains innocent.
“You mind telling me what you’re doing here in the first place?” I growl.
“Focusing on my education.”
“I told you that you’re going to Weston.”
“And I told you I don’t want to go to Weston,” she fires back.
I look pointedly at the door then turn my gaze back to her and like a balloon losing air, some of Bree’s bravado seeps out of her.
"What do you think would have happened if I hadn't shown up when I did?" I ask.
She shakes her head and lowers her gaze, an expression of shame mingled with fear crossing her face. But when she raises her eyes to me once more, she lifts her chin, and I can see the light of defiance etched into her features. The girl is fiercely independent and although I need to bend her to my will, I hope she doesn’t lose that fire. It’s one of her best and sexiest qualities. It’s wrong in so many ways but the more she defies me, the more turned on I get. The more I want her. And the harder it is to keep from acting on my desires and impulses.
“I—I don’t know,” she admits and for the first time, I can see that what happened when I walked in has her rattled.
“Nothing good. That much I can tell you,” I say hotly. “This is a perfect example of why I don’t want you going to this school, baby girl. I promised to look after you and keep you safe.”
