Page 10 of Tyrant (The Villetti Chronicles)

“All right, Z?”

I waved him inside. He strolled in like he owned the fucking place, making a beeline for my study. I shut the door, following him into the room. The fuck immediately helped himself to a drink. I didn’t bother telling him to make himself at home. He did it anyway, just like he always did.

“You didn’t tell me I’d be dumping Justin Michaelson’s body.”

“Wasn’t relevant,” I replied, taking a seat in my chair again.

My eyes fixed on the fake flames. Penn dropped a small handbag on my side table.

“She stabbed him in the neck. Bloody way to die, especially at the hands of your own niece.”

I’d told Arlo to ask Penn to find her bag for me. I rarely spoke to my second in Italian but having Ari in the car made it necessary. She didn’t need to know any more details about the cover-up, nor my future plans for her.

No fucking surprise Penn had snooped around the scene. He rarely cared who I told him to get rid of, but the brother of a prominent gang leader wasn’t just anyone. He was a somebody whose death was bad for fucking business. Not that I believed the cunt deserved to live after what he’d tried to do to Arianna.

“Your point?”

“Not like you to do favours for anyone, Z. Just curious why now.”

“I don’t pay you to ask questions.”

“Fair enough.”

I looked at him then. His grey eyes glinted with amusement as he twirled the amber liquid around in the tumbler gripped between his heavily tattooed fingers. He had them everywhere, including on his scalp. They disappeared underneath his hairline but were visible on the sides of his head due to his haircut. Short back and sides, neat on top, not a single hair out of place.

“This stays between you, me and Arlo. No one else can know what she did.”

“Goes without saying.” He tapped his fingers on his skull, drawing my attention to the black nail polish on them. “Locked vault.”

Penn wasn’t the type to spill the beans. In his line of business, secrecy was paramount.

I reached out, picked up the handbag, and looked inside. It contained usual things women kept in them, like a purse and makeup. Fishing out her phone, I set the bag down again.

“Can you get into this for me?”

Penn rolled his eyes but took the phone. A few minutes later, he hacked into the passcode and handed it back to me.

“Her father probably tracks her with it, you know.”

“Can you do something about that?”

“Of course.”

I tapped through her most recent messages. Nothing out of the ordinary. Conversations between her and a Kaylee Grant. I assumed this was her best friend, given the frequency of their text messages. There were no missed calls or anything else I should be concerned about.

I gave the phone to Penn again.

“Erase any history of where she’s been today. I need it to look like she disappeared.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“She here?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Never met Bennett’s daughter. Heard she’s a looker.”

And I heard you’re obsessed with Remi.

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