Mistress to a Monster Read online

  Next was the bathroom.

  There was no mirror, and only a curtain provided cover for the shower. This room looked like it had been designed to hold a hostage.

  Nothing more.

  Nothing less.

  What kind of man did this? Was this a happy coincidence or had he planned this?

  ****

  Damon smiled as he watched Milah look around the room for something to fight with. The guards who’d dealt with her had already warned him that she knew how to fight. She wasn’t as trained as his men, but she would cause some serious injury to others if given the chance.

  He knew she’d be a wildcat. That night at her coming-of-age party, he’d snuck in to finally get a look at the precious daughter Russo had been hiding. Damon wasn’t disappointed by the woman he’d found. Then, when she was eighteen, she’d been too young for his taste. At thirty years old, he liked his women to be of age and not just on the fine border of being legal.

  That one encounter had stayed with him, and for the past three years, he’d watched Milah Russo. She was nothing like her father, nor of the rest of the Russo line. For one, she showed compassion. He’d watched her with stray animals she’d found, along with people she helped, even if it was down to aiding an elderly lady walk across the street. His men captured it.

  Milah wasn’t cold or dead. She was full of passion and fire.

  He saw it in the way she fought. Even now, she kept testing everything. His men had told her to take a shower, but she was looking for a means to protect herself. What she didn’t seem to know was that her body would keep her safe.

  Damon had known Russo would fuck up. The man’s thirst for power and blood made him greedy. It made him believe he was untouchable, but one mistake after another this past year had brought them to this moment. To where he’d been the one to point a blade at his throat, rather than a gun. There was nothing satisfying about shooting a man. Nearly all of Russo’s wealth was gone. Used up on women, drugs, gambling, and just being a bad businessman. Russo thought he was untouchable, and he had never been more wrong. The only wealth the Russo name had was owned by Milah. Her mother’s trust fund that had been placed in holding until Milah fulfilled the terms set out to get it—a small fortune. Enough to make Milah a target for men, and certainly for her father who would want to marry her off.

  That was what put Milah in harm’s way. Her father had started to hunt for a husband for her. Someone he could control and manipulate. He’d wanted his daughter’s money.

  From what his sources told him, she had no idea she had a small fortune.

  Damon watched as Milah stripped out of her clothes and turned the shower on. She kept her panties and bra on, not that he blamed her. She held her hand beneath the water, waiting for it to warm up.

  She kept on glancing around, at one point even looking into one of the cameras he had installed.

  He’d started preparing this room three years ago. From the moment he met, his intention was to take her.

  Damon was known for his patience. What he wanted, he always got. And when it came to Milah, he wanted her. Not for her wealth, but to tame that wildcat.

  He despised the Russos and everything they stood for, but Milah was different. Damon had taken his time. Done his research and knew she was not like her father. She was unique, and that quality was to be rewarded.

  It was why he’d attacked Russo. Why when his blade was to his throat, and he was more than happy to strike the killing blow, he’d waited to see what Russo would give up to save his own life.

  He was shocked when Milah’s name came up.

  Why would he be? The man was a coward, only interested in his own ends.

  He despised that in men. Was sickened by it.

  Russo would die soon enough, but first, Damon intended to take every single piece of Russo land and business. To kill all his men and make him drown in his own misery. He was going to break and destroy that man, piece by piece.

  First, he was going to work on Milah.

  She would belong to him.

  The day would soon come when he would show her father what he’d done. How he’d gotten a Russo to fall in love with a De Luca. That would not be the only victory he anticipated. He would also knock her up, but he had no intention of marrying her.

  There was no way a De Luca would ever marry a Russo. He would keep her as his mistress. Even when he found a wife worthy of the De Luca name, he would keep Milah in place, by his side, never allowing her to escape.

  He waited for Milah to wrap a towel around her beautiful, curvy body before entering her room.

  Damon closed the door and nodded at his guard to flick the lock into place. There was no escape.

  Pocketing his cell phone, he moved toward the bed and waited for Milah to enter. The moment she did, wrapped in a towel, she froze, jerking to a stop.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her.

  She stood still, her hands gripping the edge of the towel as if that alone could protect her.

  Every single part of this room was covered in cameras, so he would have the joy of watching her whenever he wanted. There was no weapon. Nothing to protect her. Even when he sent food in, he made sure there were no knives. Nothing to tempt her to act irrationally.

  He smiled. “Hello, Milah.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Is that any way to greet your master?”

  “You’re not my master. You will never be my master.”

  He chuckled. There would come a day when she would crawl across broken glass for him, and when that day arrived, he would fucking relish it. He would break this woman. So much spirit. So much passion. He couldn’t wait to unleash it and to finally have a taste of what he’d been waiting for. His cock stiffened at the thought.

  Damon got to his feet and took a step toward her. She stayed perfectly still, tilting her head back and glaring at him.

  That’s right, little cat, fight me. Your submission will be so much sweeter.

  “Your father gave you to me.”

  “I’m a person. I’m not a thing to be passed around like an object.”

  He cupped her cheek, and she shoved his arm away.

  Smiling, he gripped the back of her neck and hauled her up against him. She did have some skills, but she was no match for him. There was nothing she could do to fight him off. He was the one with complete power, ultimate control.

  “You are mine, Milah. Your father gave you to me because he is nothing but a coward. He would rather sell his own daughter than lose his life.”

  She tried to wriggle in his hold, but all it did was dislodge the towel bound at her breasts, bringing her scantily clad body closer to his.

  There was no use in fighting.

  With his spare hand, he gripped the shapely curve of her ass, holding her against him. He made her very much aware of his rock-hard cock.

  What saved Milah right now was that her final submission would be so much sweeter than to break her by raping her.

  He held her neck, forcing her to look up at him, and he stared down into her blue eyes that so reminded him of the ocean.

  She was beautiful.

  He’d heard rumors of men claiming her beauty was no match for her mother’s, but they were wrong. Damon had met her mother, and he’d never been attracted to her. Milah, though, she drove him wild.

  She was the reason he set this plan in motion. To finally claim her for his own. Those full lips would look so good wrapped around his cock. He couldn’t wait to see her body shaking with her release as she begged for him to fuck her.

  All of that would come soon enough.

  He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he let her go and walked to the door, slapping his palm twice on the hard wood. The lock flicked open, and he stepped out without saying a word.

  His guards moved out of his way as he locked the door and pressed his palm against it.

  Milah would put up a fight. She was his captive, but she wouldn’t submit easily. No, he anticipated a fight.

  He pulled away and forced himself to go to his study, where he poured himself a large glass of whiskey. The temptation to look at the cameras was strong, but he denied himself that very pleasure. His desire for her was too strong.

  Damon needed to control himself. No woman had ever made him act like a fool or a schoolboy, begging for attention.

  Milah was his now, and there was no way Russo could take her back.

  Sipping at his whiskey, he stared at the sofa where his father had once sat. His mother and father’s deaths were the only times he’d mourned someone.

  According to De Luca rumor, there was no love between father and son, but that had always been lies. He’d been close to his father.

  Damon hadn’t killed him. Cancer had ravaged his father’s body, weakening him, breaking him, until finally death had claimed him. As per his father’s instructions, he didn’t release a tear. He wasn’t to cry. He was to take the De Luca name into greatness, and that didn’t allow for men to show weakness. Just strength.

  Sipping at his whiskey, he took a seat opposite the sofa. They had spent many hours talking about how to bring down the Russos.

  It was only a matter of time before Russo was on his knees with no way out of the hole he’d dug himself into.

  After finishing off his drink, he put the empty glass on the coffee table and sat back. Resting his head on the back of the chair, he stared up at the ceiling, attempting to relax.

  With Milah in his home, he didn’t think for a second he’d be getting much sleep. His men would guard her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t attempt an escape.

  That night, three years ago on her birthday, she’d looked so fucking regal. Like she was indeed a queen. Even then, he’d been plotting Russo’s
demise.

  She was a queen of a dying empire. The Russos would one day cease to exist.

  He intended to wipe out the entire line, including all the bastard children Russo had fathered. From his sources, Milah had at least three brothers who were older than her, but there could have also been other children. No one knew for certain how many women Antonio had knocked up.

  Did she know of her distant family?

  He doubted it.

  Running a hand down his face, he tried to clear his thoughts, but they kept on returning to Milah. The woman was already a thorn in his fucking side.

  Chapter Two

  Milah was going to get out. She would find a means of escape.

  And so it began.

  It started with breakfast being delivered at exactly seven-thirty. Not a moment before. Not a moment later. Lunch was served at twelve. Again, on time, always. Dinner was at six. Same time, all the time. The women changed for each serving, but they remained the same throughout the first week. She counted how long she had been there by the meals.

  She was onto her third week, and still, Damon De Luca hadn’t visited her a second time. Just that once where he’d held her tightly, letting her know without a doubt who was more powerful.

  He may have strength, but Milah had a great deal of patience with nothing to do all day than sit and stare at the door, to watch who came through, to see what was on the other side. It was like watching a movie more than once. You stopped watching what was right in front of you and started to see what was going on in the background.

  There were always two guards that were visible. One who opened the door, the other behind each serving woman.

  Milah felt that was a little sloppy. She’d be able to hurt the first man while the second reacted, and she’d already be on the attack. It would have made more sense to have three men. Did De Luca not think she was worth a third man?

  The meals were all sloppy, and none of them required a knife. It didn’t take a genius to work out that De Luca had done this on purpose. She had no doubt he’d planned this.

  The bedroom. The bathroom. There were no weapons, nothing for her to use to help herself. She was all alone.

  He couldn’t control her thoughts though.

  Milah looked around the bedroom and knew there would be cameras. Only a fool would put the enemy in a room with no cameras. It was why she always changed her underwear beneath a towel. A new change of clothing arrived with her food. Always neatly folded, and again, picked with no way for her to fight back.

  When she wasn’t looking at the door, she moved toward the full-length doors that opened to a balcony, only they were locked. She couldn’t escape from there, but the view told her she was at least three stories from the ground. Any jump would injure, if not kill her.

  So, after three weeks, she had no choice but to go for the attack.

  The women never spoke to her. They didn’t even look at her. The food had to have been spat in, she was sure of it. She only ate what was needed to keep her strength up.

  By the end of the third week, she had enough of playing the perfect captive and waited by the door, tense, counting the seconds. She heard the flick and waited as the tray was pushed inside. The only weapon was the silver food cover over her plate. While the woman pushed the cart, Milah lifted the food cover, shoved her as she came through, and then slammed the metal into the first guard’s head. By the time the second one reacted, she had already grabbed the spare gun from the first guard, removed the safety, and shot the second guard in the leg. He went down, and Milah ran, jumping over him. She didn’t have a pair of shoes, and so had no choice but to make her escape on bare feet.

  Not the most ideal of situations, but one she intended to do.

  She heard the cry of warning, saying that she had escaped. Once she’d made it down two flights of stairs, she had no choice but to escape into a bedroom. Glancing around, she saw it was unmade, a spare room, and she didn’t wait around, charging forward. She tried the doors that led out onto another balcony. She didn’t understand De Luca’s obsession with them, but she wasn’t going to argue with them if they were means of escape. There was no way she’d be able to make the jump without damaging her body, but she saw a plant trailing up the side of the house. There was a means for her to climb down, but it also meant she had no choice but to leave the gun.

  She put the safety on and threw it over the balcony. She didn’t waste any time to see where it landed.

  Climbing over the stone balcony, she grabbed the trellis, hoping it was sturdy enough to take her weight. She started to climb down.

  She was near the ground when she heard the guards. Another alert, which could only mean the ground-floor guards had been told of what was happening.

  With her feet on the ground, she had no choice but to run. She took her chances, heading toward the garden. She stumbled as she had to walk over rocks, which dug into her feet, but that didn’t stop her, even as she felt one sharp edge pierce her flesh. She kept on running.

  One glance over her shoulder, and she saw men had spotted her. She expected them to raise their guns to shoot, but they never did. She ran with all her might, trying to escape, to get free and clear.

  She had already passed the gun but decided to leave it. There wasn’t enough time to bend down and get it. She had to keep on running.

  She was close to a thick line of trees when she was tackled from the right and thrown to the ground. As she tried to fight, her arms were slammed above her head, stopping her from moving.

  Screaming, she tried to push off the man who stopped her, but he held her immobile. She looked up to see Damon himself was there.

  She didn’t stop fighting.

  “Let me go!”

  “You have been a very naughty girl.”

  “You have no right to keep me here.” She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t move. Damon was a brick wall in comparison. She tried to wriggle from underneath him, but it was useless.

  “Report,” Damon said.

  Milah didn’t look away but sensed the guards approaching.

  “She shot one guard in the leg. The maid serving her lunch isn’t injured. She was pushed to the floor. The other guard has a bruised face.”

  “Is anyone dead?” Damon asked.

  “No.”

  Damon looked at her, his face seeming to tense as if he had a question. “You are foolish.”

  “Let me go.” He could call her all the names he wanted, but she wasn’t going to give up the fight to be free.

  “Anyone else would have killed them.”

  Milah froze and looked at Damon.

  She had never even thought about killing them. She hated violence. One of the reasons she had hated learning how to fight was the fear of hurting someone, but her mother had demanded it. Forced her to learn. She had no choice.

  The guard she had shot had only been doing his job. Shooting him was an act of survival on her part, but no one deserved to die.

  “Let me go.”

  “This is starting to sound like a broken record. After three weeks, I figured you would have started to learn your place.”

  “Fuck off, you piece of shit. I will always fight. I will find a way to get out of here. I will be free. You and my father can go fuck yourselves.” For the first time in three weeks, Milah felt good.

  She’d surprised Damon.

  He gave it away with the slight widening of his gaze. It was a subtle change, but one she had seen. He hadn’t expected her to say something like that.

  “Sir?” the guard who had reported what she’d done spoke.

  Damon didn’t look away.

  “I think it’s time to show our guest her place in this life, don’t you?” Damon asked.

  Fear raced down her spine, but she didn’t show it. Her mother had taught her the value of constantly wearing a mask.

  Damon moved, and she was about to get to her feet, but his hands went around her neck, pulling her to her feet. She had no choice but to follow his grip, otherwise, she would have been choked.

  She grabbed his arms, trying to get him to ease up. He wasn’t squeezing to the point of no air, but the threat was there. She didn’t want to die, but there was no way she would beg Damon to let her live. There was no way she’d beg him for anything.

  He smiled at her. “You will learn your place, Milah Russo. You have had it easy up until now, but let us see how well you fare in the fucking gutter.”