Avery's Point of View
The heavy wooden door clicked shut. The quiet of the penthouse foyer felt like a trap.
"Get out," I whispered, backing away from him. My heels sank into the plush carpet, and my hands clutched my evening bag so tight the strap dug into my skin. "Get out of my room, Rhett."
He didn't move. He stood with his back against the door, his tall frame blocking my only escape. His jacket was open, his hair slightly messy, and his dark eyes were intensely focused on me. The anger from the elevator was gone, replaced by a cold, absolute determination.
"She doesn't call anyone daddy," he repeated. His voice was a low, quiet vibration that made my skin prickle. "You said she doesn't have a father in London."
"I said she doesn't call anyone daddy," I corrected quickly, my voic
