Page 14 of Tyrant (The Villetti Chronicles)

“I’m not going to turn down food out of spite,” I muttered, trying to avoid the feelings his words and presence lured out of me.

“I should fucking hope not, Tink. You will look after yourself under my care or we are going to have a problem.”

I stiffened and sat up, wanting to escape the mind-fuck this morning had already been. I set the mug down on the table, contemplating running. His hand rose from my stomach to cup my throat. I swallowed against his palm. His grasp wasn’t tight, merely a reminder of who was in charge.

“Are we going to have a problem?”

“No, sir.”

“I wouldn’t want to handcuff you to my desk chair for the rest of the day, so you won’t bolt.”

“I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He let go of my neck. My hand went to it, rubbing the skin as if his touch burnt me.

“Now, I want you to write down everything you need so Arlo can get it for you.”

I turned my head to look at him. Zayn’s attention was back on his phone already.

“Everything I need?”

“Yes, I’m sure you use certain hair care products and other such things. What part of ‘I will take care of you and your needs’ did you not understand?”

“None, I do understand.”

“Then write.”

He waved his hand at the paper and pen I hadn’t noticed before, sitting on the table next to my breakfast things. I pulled them closer, not wanting to incur his wrath, and did as he asked.

I placed the pen down when I was done, hoping I’d remembered everything.

The doorbell echoed through the house a moment later.

“Up, Arianna.”

I scrambled out of his lap, fidgeting on the spot as he stood. He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and directed me in front of him. We walked through the house to the front door. He didn’t remove his hand from me as he pulled it open.

On the step stood Zayn’s right-hand man, Arlo. I knew who he was, as my father had told me, but we’d never been introduced. He had a lot of bags in his hands.

“Come in, take those upstairs and put them away in the blue bedroom.”

Arlo nodded, not looking at me as he walked in. Zayn shut the door. He then pushed me into his living room. It was a light and airy space with a large fireplace, a flat-screen TV mounted above it and comfortable looking dark sofas. He took a seat in one of them and pointed at the floor. Reluctantly, I knelt at his feet and dared to look up at him.

Zayn leant forward and stroked my face with his knuckles. This constant touching thing was making me wary.

“Did you finish your list?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m working at home today, but tomorrow you’ll attend the club with me.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

He smirked.

“Arlo has brought you new clothes. The blue bedroom will be yours for the duration of your stay here unless I decide otherwise.”

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