Page 23 of Tyrant (The Villetti Chronicles)

I obeyed, slipping off him and kneeling at the side of his chair with my head bowed.

“Come in.”

The door opened.

“I hate to disturb you, boss, but Gennaro is here.”

I could feel the annoyance radiating off Zayn the moment his father’s name fell from the person’s lips.

“Okay, Liza, send him in… but give me a few minutes.”

“Sure thing.”

The door closed again.

“I need you to stay in the other room while I talk to him.”

I looked up at Zayn, catching his irritated expression. It wasn’t directed at me, though.

“Now, Arianna.”

He pointed to the room he’d taken me in on the day I’d turned up here, covered in blood. I scrambled to my feet, eager not to earn myself another punishment.

I opened the door to the side room, slipping inside and shutting it behind me. My fingers went to the collar around my neck as I sat down on the sofa, curling my feet up underneath me.

A part of me questioned why Zayn was pissed off with his father turning up and what Gennaro wanted. It was none of my business, but curiosity burnt in my chest.

It made me wonder why Zayn had let Remi see me. He clearly trusted her more than he did his own father. Gennaro would likely tell my father I was here. Zayn was only protecting me by sending me in here out of the way.

I fingered the chain. It was black metal with a little leather handle at the end. Zayn had done more than merely collared me. This was a leash. One he would use to bring me to heel. And I couldn’t deny I liked the idea of it more than I would ever willingly admit to him.

Nine

Zayn

My fist clenched on the arm of my chair. I willed myself to remain calm, but the burning sensation beneath my skin made my head throb and other places I didn’t want to think about.

Why do I want her?

It was a simple question. One I had no answer to.

Ari was beautiful. No one could deny that. Her curvaceous body was something I admired, sure. Attractive women were nothing new to me. I had too many falling at my feet, something I generally found abhorrent these days. When a woman kneeled, it was because I wanted her there. I demanded it. Craved the sight of it.

Her looks mattered not to me. It was the fire in her chestnut brown eyes. The passion simmering below the surface. It pulled at me, making me want to give her all the things she deserved. Ari needed someone to take care of her. And for some fucked up reason, I wanted to be the one seeing to her every need.

Every. Single. Need.

Uncurling my fingers, I ran them along my throat. Some might say it was a fucked up joke to have the word “padre” tattooed there in graffiti script no one but me could decipher. Well, myself and Penn, that was. He’d designed and inked the word on my skin.

Dropping my right hand, I flexed it. The inked skull on the back of my palm rippled with the movement. I had to admit to myself how fucked up it was. The desire to have her call me that. I was almost old enough to be her father. Bennett was only four and a half years older than me. He’d been sixteen going on seventeen when Arianna was born. It was only one of the reasons why I couldn’t have her in any other way.

It was my pet or nothing.

I couldn’t for the life of me understand why the thought of nothing made me nauseous. Until she’d come to me covered in blood, I hadn’t much cared about Arianna Michaelson. And now… all I thought about was her.

The door to my office opened. My attention snapped to it. In walked Fiore and Stefano, my father’s bodyguards without whom he never went anywhere, followed by the man himself. After him came my two brothers. Gil’s face was stoic, while Enzo had a sullen expression on his. Arlo strolled in behind them and shut my office door.

“Zayn,” my father said as he approached my desk and sat in one of the chairs in front of it. My mind went back to when Ari had sat in it covered in blood. Internally cursing myself, I schooled my features.

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