Page 42 of Tyrant (The Villetti Chronicles)

“You know nothing of my family and what it means to be a Villetti,” he responded a moment later, his tone light despite his words.

He was right. I didn’t, but I wanted to know. I wanted to know him, as stupid as that was.

“I didn’t mean—”

“If you’re asking whether I intend to pursue another woman when I have you with me, the answer is unequivocally, no. I don’t want a wife. The institution of marriage is… abhorrent to me.”

His admission had me faltering. What did anyone say to that? I was relieved by his reassurance there wouldn’t be anyone else but wondered at the same time why he hated marriage. Not that I had any designs on him. Hell, I shouldn’t even want him… but I did.

“And you are to keep that piece of information to yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

As if I would tell anyone. I wasn’t able to speak to a soul outside of him. My best friend was probably wondering where the fuck I’d got to. Kaylee wasn’t from my world. I met her at private school. She came from money and privilege. I didn’t begrudge her upbringing or class. She was the only nice person at our school who didn’t treat me like shit for being working-class scum, as they called me. Where I came from didn’t matter to her.

I couldn’t imagine explaining my father being in a gang to her, nor anything about Zayn, the mafia prince. The one I was becoming hopelessly enamoured with. Before all of this, I knew very little about Zayn despite having been around him many times over the years. It was different now. Everything had changed because of my decision to come here instead of my father. To ask Zayn for help.

“Now, go sit at the table. You need breakfast.”

“Aren’t you going to punish me for eavesdropping?”

His chuckle made me shiver.

“Oh, Tink, of course you’re going to be punished, but not before you’ve eaten.”

He released me, stepping back to give me room. I didn’t know how my legs were still holding me up. Somehow, I managed to make my way to the table. When I was about to take a seat, I heard him speak.

“Not there, on the other side, where I can see you.”

I walked around to the other end of the table and dropped into a seat. I placed my hands on the table and watched him move around the kitchen like he belonged in it. His eyes were on me even as he made breakfast. It unnerved me, not knowing what he would do after I’d eaten. Zayn had been very clear when explaining his punishments to me before he carried them out. Now, I had no idea what would come next.

When he was done, he brought over a plate and set it in front of me, along with a cup of tea and cutlery. I didn’t hesitate to start. He would only scold me if I didn’t eat everything he gave me. Earning his ire now would be a mistake.

He took a seat next to me with a cup of coffee in his hands and kept an eye on me. I had got used to him doing it. As if I wasn’t trustworthy enough to finish my meal. Then again, I’d given him more than enough reason not to trust me.

I set my knife and fork down on the plate when I’d eaten, before cradling my mug to my chest and looking down at the table. My leg bounced on the floor tiles. Zayn’s hand shot out, stopping my movements in their tracks. My eyes flicked up to his and found a smirk on his face.

“Nervous, Tinkerbell? You worried about what I’m going to do to you?”

I bit my lip.

“A little.”

He leant closer, taking my mug from my hands and placing it on the table. His hand remained banded around my thigh, keeping me pinned to the chair. It prevented me from squeezing them together at his proximity. My fear of what he would do and the pit of desire he caused warred inside of me. It created a cocktail of lust I wasn’t sure I could hide from him. Not when he had a knack of picking up on every little cue I gave him.

“Why disobey if you don’t seek punishment?”

Zayn was far too close to me now. My eyes darted to his mouth. I had thrown myself at him last night and he’d rejected me. The thought of it happening again was the only thing preventing me from doing something stupid, like crawling into his lap and begging him for something neither of us should want from each other.

“How are you going to punish me?” I whispered, not trusting myself to speak louder.

He cocked his head to the side, his hand sliding higher on my thigh. I choked on my own breath.

“That mouth of yours gets you into a lot of trouble. I think it’s time I shut you up.”

Something dangled in front of my vision, preventing me from seeing him properly. I pulled back slightly, finding a gag hanging from the fingers of his free hand.

“Zayn—”

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