Page 8 of Sadist (The Triarchy Collection #1)

THEO

T he phone rang as I was midway through my morning workout, cursing to myself as I racked the bar and picked it up.

“You seen the news?” O’Malley asked as soon as I picked up.

“Nope.” I tucked the phone under my chin so I could flick my monitors on, William Vanguard’s stricken face filling my screen as I clicked onto the streaming platform.

“Hello, Daddy Vanguard,” I murmured, leaning in closer.

I had seen his photoshopped, impeccable photos plastered all over billboards and news articles about him. But through the harsh cameras of the press, he looked far more human.

He had the same shade of blonde hair as his daughter, the same hazel eyes, and the same straight, slightly aquiline nose that should have looked harsh on Octavia, yet was a striking feature that made her beauty unique.

That was where the similarities ended, though.

The rest of her features came from her mother.

The delicate, watery-eyed woman stood next to William, her gaze flitting nervously over the crowd gathered in front of them, blinking at the flashing lights as the paparazzi descended on the press conference like the vultures they were.

“Timid little thing,” I murmured to myself as I arranged my pencils along the desk in perfectly straight lines. “ She didn’t inherit that trait.”

“He’s been trying to turn the media for the last twenty minutes.

” O’Malley’s voice snapped me out of my musing, and I clicked across to the other platform to see Octavia’s picture front and center.

She was markedly younger than she was now, looking at the camera with a solemn expression on a large couch, her legs tucked up in front of her and arms wrapped tightly around them.

I grunted, sitting down as William stepped up to the small podium that had been set for him, and glanced down at the unfolded paper in his hands.

“Please,” he began, turning tired-looking eyes to the camera. “If my daughter can see this…I’m doing everything I can to get you back, Baby Girl.”

My lip curled as I grimaced in distaste.

“To those who have my daughter, just tell me what you want!” His voice cracked in a valiant display of emotion as he pulled a kerchief from his pocket and held it to his dry eyes for a moment.

“Send it,” I ordered O’Malley, leaning back in my chair with a smirk as William prattled on while his wife held up that same picture of Octavia.

Glancing at my watch, I kept a careful eye on the paparazzi, minutes ticking by, until one by one they glanced down, their attention drawn by something else.

“Gotcha,” I murmured, as one held their phone up, the screen visible even from this distance with the article I had put together myself, linking in the list of dropped lawsuits against Vanguard Technology.

“Mr. Vanguard!” one of the reporters called, elbowing his way to the front of the crowd. “Can you tell us about the lawsuits? Why so many cases against you have been lodged and dropped in the last three years? Do you think there could be a link to your missing daughter?”

More voices rose from the milling reporters, clamoring to get their questions in as a suit next to William stepped forward to speak into his ear.

William moved back as the suit took his place, announcing the interview was over while William and his wife were ushered away from the stage and quickly engulfed by bodyguards and out of sight.

“Well, at least he is now aware of where we will take it,” I said to the quiet phone line.

O’Malley grunted, and I could hear typing in the background.

“Send another communication request through,” I said, turning off the coverage.

Another grunt.

“I’m going to need words, O’Malley,” I said, irritation rising. “A simple ‘yes okay’ is fine, but I do not communicate in neanderthal. And where is Zichen? I have something I need him to look into.”

O’Malley huffed softly down the line. “He’s busy.”

“Well then, tell him to make himself available,” I snapped. “This is the job, and if he can’t commit to it, I will have him replaced.”

“I don’t think you have the sway to get anyone replaced at the moment, Golden Girl,” O’Malley said. “It’s been noticed that you’re not Loxley’s pet no more, so pipe down. I’ll pass your message on, and Zichen will get back to you when he’s ready.”

Putting him on speaker, I set the phone down as the urge to hurl it into the nearest wall gripped me momentarily.

“You want to repeat that to my face later?” I asked acidly.

He let out a short bark of laughter and hung up, leaving me simmering in my anger.

I glanced at my watch. 0900hrs. Octavia would be well and truly awake and at risk of flinging things around.

Stalking to the coffee machine, I turned it on and let the monotony of grinding and packing the coffee beans soothe my temper as the rich aroma filled the large room.

I leaned against the counter, eyes closed, breathing it in and feeling the last of my annoyance ebb away.

I almost missed the low buzz of the phone over the noise of the machine, smirking in satisfaction as I noticed the burner phone on my desk light up and vibrate across the surface.

I swiped the screen on the unknown number, crooking my shoulder to hold it against my ear as I carried on making the coffees.

“Hello, William,” I purred into the phone as it connected. “Someone has been a naughty boy, haven’t they?”

“What are your demands?” His tone was flat. None of the emotion that he had displayed so animatedly on the screen just minutes ago.

“I just want to talk. You are rather hard to get hold of.”

“Do you know how many times I have received false ransom requests? My daughter comes and goes as she wishes, and opportunists are aware of that. Just tell me what you?—”

“Hush now,” I interrupted as I poured frothed milk into a cup.

“This can stay very simple. The terms of your daughter’s release have been sent to you.

I would hate to have to damage your name further.

The internet is not forgiving, it seems, and that PR company is good, but they’re not miracle workers.

How much have your shares dropped in the last twenty-four hours, by the way? ”

“Is she alive?” he bit out.

“I wouldn’t be negotiating with a dead body, William, give me a little credit,” I scoffed.

“I want proof.”

I huffed a laugh, pulling the phone away from my ear and hitting the code for cell two.

“So demanding,” I muttered. “I see where she gets it from.”

The muffled beep of the cell unlocking was followed closely by Octavia bursting into the room, surprise at seeing me wiping down the coffee machine, making her hesitate.

I crooked a finger at her, and to my delight, she came toward me, though hesitantly.

She stopped when I raised my finger at her, keeping her just out of reach, and I put him on speaker, holding the phone out between us.

“Tell Daddy you are alive, Sweets.”

Octavia blanched, her eyes locking on the phone in my hand.

“What?” she croaked.

“Is that you, Octavia?” William barked.

“Yes,” she said, but her voice came out strangled, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, it’s me.”

“There’s your proof,” I said, taking him off speaker and tucking the phone next to my ear again.

“Now be a good boy and hold up your end. There are instructions on how to contact me again in the file you received.” I ended the call abruptly, pulling the back off the phone and removing the SIM card before tossing the small chip into my microwave.

I set it to two minutes before sliding the second coffee toward Octavia, who was watching the microwave with concern as it began to spark furiously.

“Good morning,” I said cheerily.

She startled, turning her attention back to me and looking thoroughly thrown.

“Good—what?”

“Morning,” I supplied. “Sleep okay?”

She frowned at me then, getting a hint of that spark back in her eyes.

“No, Theo. I did not. What’s happening? You talked to Wil—my father?”

“Shame.” I gestured at the table. “Sit, drink your coffee while it’s hot.”

“Theo!” she bit out.

God, she really did have balls. I admired her. Truly. It took a certain kind of woman to scold her own captor. Even one as unconventional as I was.

“Yes?” I replied, letting my voice drop into the dangerously soft croon that had made her pause before.

A muscle ticked in her jaw, the faintest pink tinge emerging on her cheeks as she glared at me.

“I will not sit do—” Her retort was cut off as my hand closed around her throat, her delicate fingers grabbing at my wrist as her eyes widened.

Picking up her coffee in my free hand, I walked her back, my thumb over the now erratic thump of her pulse until the back of her legs hit the seat and she sat abruptly.

“Yes…you will,” I murmured, her stilted breaths fanning across my cheek. “I told you that I don’t like asking twice, Sweets.” I pressed my thumb a little harder against her pulse as she tried to swallow.

God, the feel of the delicate lines of her neck moving under my grip was intoxicating. I wanted more. I wanted to squeeze tighter, feel her whimper catch against my palm.

Her hand tightened around my wrist, her nails digging into my skin, and I pulled away from the touch, releasing her.

She panted, her hand resting against her throat where mine had just been, but her eyes were telling me everything I needed to know.

Her pupils had blown wide, her gaze locked on mine in a way that I knew she would do anything I told her to in that moment.

And fuck it…after the disrespect I had just gotten from O’Malley, I needed to flex the part of me that craved control.

“Take your coffee, do as you are told, and you can ask me questions while I finish my workout,” I said, still crowding her space.

Her hand brushed mine as she took the cup, never breaking eye contact.

“Okay,” she rasped, seeming incapable of the smart-ass comments she usually fired at me.

“That’s better,” I murmured, tilting my head as I let my gaze drift lower to linger on those beautiful god-damned lips. “Can you be a good girl for me?”

Her breath caught, her knuckles going white around the cup, but she nodded once, and I smirked, finally standing and giving her room to breathe.

Her eyes tracked my every move as I made my way over to the gym, the weight of her stare a near-physical caress over my skin.

But she sipped her coffee and sat there.

Quietly.

Perfectly.

Fuck, I was in trouble.