Tyrant Daddy (Tyrant Dynasty 3)

"Nope," he says, shaking his head. "Not fucking happening."

"Please," I whine. "It's my birthday."

"So? Step aside, girls." He opens the velvet rope to allow more people to enter. One of the girls smirks at me and I nearly boil over with anger.

"Please." I try to grab his hand, but he pulls back, giving me a warning glare.

"You don't even have fake IDs, kid, what did you fucking expect?" he rolls his eyes at me. "How old are you? Eighteen?"

"Y-Yeah." I give him my most confident smile.

"Sure." Another eye roll follows. "Come on, give me a fucking break. Your tits are barely an A-cup and your friend looks about twelve."

"Hey!" Mercy glares.

"Just telling you like it is. Off you go."

I pout, turning on my puppy eyes. Mr. Evil Bouncer here looks like the family type. Maybe I shouldn't have been betting on my nipples getting us in. The puppy eyes always work on Nox.

"Please," I try again. "Just this one time."

"I let you in, kid, and I'll have a whole load of twelve-year-olds lining up tomorrow," he grunts. "This is for your own good. Go on, get."

I allow my eyes to burn into his, hoping he knows just how much I hate him. With a frustrated groan, I pull on Mercy's hand. "Come on."

She follows me to the pavement where we join the line for the club, sighing. "Do we have to do this? Can't we just go back to your place and watch a movie or something?"

"No," I shake my head vehemently. "He pissed me off now. We definitely have to get in."

But the line is barely moving. Two hours later and we're sitting on the curb, having not moved since we first joined the line, except there's now a bunch of people in line after us, too. And one of the guys in line is not so good at hiding the boner tenting his pants. He's also practically salivating at the sight of my nipples. I cross my arms. It's getting cold.

Even though everything's going wrong so far, I don't want to admit defeat. Not yet.

It would mean going back home, returning to Dove and Nox and their perfect little family. The one I stand out from like a sore fucking thumb.

They never made me feel unwelcome. They always work hard to make me feel like I belong. But deep down, I know the truth.

They don't want me. How could they? Not even my mom did.

Mercy is texting on her phone and I'm impatiently looking around when I see him for the first time. He exits the club, eyes clouded over and darkened with anger as he walks swiftly past the line for the club. He has dark hair, with silver streaks. His jaw is chiseled and covered in stubble. He's tall, broad, and tan. His suit is crisp, and his walk is confident, unrelenting.

Something happens to me then, like I've been punched in the gut. But the pain doesn't come. Instead, there's just stone-cold shock, a strange, quickening heartbeat that feels traitorous, and an emptiness that can only be filled by him.

"Willa?"

I hear my best friend call after me, but I don't react. It's as if something's pulling me toward this man. An invisible string ties us together and I gravitate to him like a puppet just realizing she has a master.

"Hello,” I say to the man.

He's lighting a cigarette, but when he's done, he looks at me. His eyes darken more.

"What's your name?" I ask.

Still, he doesn't respond. But now he looks angry. Deep brown eyes travel over my face, over every freckle decorating my pale skin. He pauses on my lips before traveling lower. It's too dark to see that well, but I don't miss how his fists tighten when he sees my puckered pink nipples.

"You're walking around like that?" he hisses at me, pointing at my chest, exposed through the flimsy lace. "What does your daddy say?"

I flush. "I don't have one."

He takes in this information, dragging again on his cigarette. "What are you doing here, except for causing trouble?"

"Trying to get in." I point to the bouncer. "That guy's being a prick."

"Maybe he's just looking out for you."

"I'm old enough to take care of myself," I say fiercely.

"Sure. Trouble." He smirks and my insides flutter. Who is this man? How did he prompt such an instant, irresistible reaction from me? The moment I saw him, I had to talk to him. I had to know him.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"Raphael." It rolls off his lips slowly and sensually, dripping like honey. "What's your name, trouble?"

"Willa."

"Willa." He tries it out on his lips, nodding at me. "I like it. Suits you. Not as much as trouble, though. So, why come up to me?"

"I couldn't help it." I nervously totter in my stilettos, not used to the height. "Fuck."