Mistress to a Monster Page 4

  Glory nodded and then made her escape as Damon made his entrance.

  “I see you’re awake.”

  Milah watched as Glory left before turning her attention to Damon. She lifted her wrist. “Is this necessary?”

  “I cannot risk you hurting yourself.” He closed the door and moved toward her, perching on the bed, by her side. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was chained up, starved, and fed to rats. You?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “I can see that even with death calling, it hasn’t stopped that viperous tongue of yours.”

  “Why don’t you just kill me? I heard the head of the De Luca empire has no shame in ending women. You are happy to kill anyone and everyone who dares to intervene with your world.” In the back of her mind, she screamed at herself for being so foolish. Now was not the time to be arguing with him.

  She didn’t have her strength. Nor did she have a death wish.

  Right now, she had to keep in control or risk dying. He had already shown that he had no problem hurting her.

  “I am happy to kill anyone who is set to betray all that the De Lucas hold dear. Isn’t that what your dear old dad does? It’s why you are here.”

  She wanted to scream at him. “How is the guard?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The guard that I shot. How is he?” She had thought about the man often while she’d been locked away, hoping she had been right in where she shot him. Killing someone was never her intention. She had no wish to do harm. Unlike her father, she didn’t have a thirst for blood.

  There were times growing up when she’d asked about love and kindness, and he’d laughed at her. Her father wasn’t above slapping a girl. He took great pleasure in it too. As far as he was concerned, women had to learn their place, and if that meant hitting them, he was more than happy to do it.

  Pulling out of the memory, she looked at Damon.

  “You’re concerned about him?” Damon asked.

  “Yes. I haven’t … he’s not … can he…” She bit her lip, hating the worry she detected in her voice.

  This was not befitting a Russo. Her mother had told her that compassion was something she could only show to those who didn’t know who she was. There were so many fucking rules to abide by.

  “James is healing fast. You cut flesh, and after his stitches have healed, all will be well.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” If she ever got the chance to see the guard, she would apologize.

  “Your father would be proud of the way you are fighting. I’m sure the Russo name will certainly live on in you.”

  She glared at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she wasn’t fighting for her father nor for his name, but she gritted her teeth. Damon clearly knew what he was doing. As for herself, she was struggling to keep her emotions in check.

  “I am surprised you do not ask about your father,” Damon said.

  “I have no interest in what he does. I’m here, aren’t I? That could only mean he has done something … wrong.”

  Damon chuckled. “Even now, chained to my bed, you’re going to be stubborn.”

  “Do you have a thing for young women?” she asked. “They have labels for men like you.”

  She gasped as he leaned in close. His face was so close to hers that she felt his breath brush across her lips. She tensed up.

  Not once in all her twenty-one years had she been kissed. There was no way her first kiss was going to be from this man. Just the thought of it made her skin crawl. Staring at him now, she had to wonder what he planned to do to her.

  “And what would those labels be?” he asked.

  Before she said anything, he smirked and cupped her cheek, running his thumb across her bottom lip. He dared to touch her.

  She stayed perfectly still.

  “Now, if you think to insult me by calling me a pervert, I would agree if you were barely legal, but you’re not, are you? You’re twenty-one years old.”

  “I’m still younger than you.”

  “Yes, by exactly twelve years. Not a very big age gap, but trust me, Milah, I’m man enough to know how to handle you. You know, these lips are made for being wrapped around my cock. According to your father, you are pure, innocent. Is that true?”

  She glared at him. How dare he and how dare her father.

  “No,” she said, lying easily.

  Her first time was supposed to be with someone she loved. Someone she trusted. Not this … arrogant asshole she couldn’t stand and wanted to kill.

  Sex would never happen between them. At least not willingly. The very thought of being near him was enough to make her skin crawl. He may be a good-looking man, but he was not the man for her. She had to wonder what he was waiting for. What he hoped to achieve by waiting. Was he going to rape her? Break her? What were his intentions?

  Damon chuckled. “Do you think I don’t know, Milah?” He grabbed the back of her neck and tugged her close. His lips near hers but not quite touching.

  He moved his mouth toward her ear. “Do you think I haven’t watched you these past three years, keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like fuck a random stranger?” He tutted. “I know you’re a virgin. Not a single cock has been near your body. You’re pure, and when the time is right, I’m going to make you beg for me.”

  “Never,” she said, pulling away from him. “I will never beg you for anything.”

  “You say that now, princess, but I know differently. There will come a time when you are going to beg me. You’ll crawl for my cock. Do anything I say just to feel me deep inside you. I wonder if when that time comes, I will give you what you need.”

  He let her go, and she tried to slap him, but he held her wrist, stopping her from making contact. “Don’t be such a naughty girl.”

  Damon stepped away from the bed and nodded at the tray of food. “You better eat that if you want to have any strength to defeat me. You can try all you want, Milah, but you are never going to win.”

  He left the bedroom, and she stared at his door, fearing he might be right. Not about her begging for his cock. That would never happen. Not in a million years, but she certainly needed her strength to get the better of him.

  ****

  Damon sat behind his desk, glancing over the files that had been handed to him. They were from different areas of the De Luca business. He had a meeting tomorrow with the port manager about some of the containers arriving. There was also a possible business arrangement to handle with the cartel.

  He looked through each file meticulously.

  His father had trained him well. Taught him to read between the lines. None of these files would ever make it into enemy hands. He was to look at them, understand them, and then burn them.

  There was never to be a paper trail. While he dealt with the Russo problem, these were merely updates he couldn’t handle in person. With each file read, he tossed the individual sheets into the fire.

  It was another cold day, and the weather forecast had warned of a snowstorm coming. If that happened, it meant he would be locked in his home until it thawed. He happened to enjoy the snow and often tried to make sure he was home when it fell. He hated city life. Always had.

  Born and raised in the country, this was where his heart lay. Life in the country could become quite boring to many, not to him. His father used to make life far more interesting and playful. When his mother was alive, she didn’t particularly care for the city or the glamorous life being a De Luca offered.

  She’d been the kind of woman who enjoyed spending long afternoons reading in front of a roaring fire. Or in the kitchen. Damon had lost count of the number of times he found her baking away in the kitchen. She loved to cook, to serve her family.

  This was where they could hide away and be natural without prying eyes. His father would only allow the guards who had sworn loyalty to him close, whereas Damon had made sure this house was heavily guarded. Once his father became ill, he hadn’t taken any chances and simply did what was necessary to keep them all safe.

  When his mother died, his father had been inconsolable. Much like Milah’s father, he’d been set on a path of death and destruction. But unlike Russo, his own father had been intent on killing the men responsible.

  The warpath hadn’t brought his father peace. If anything, it had only served to make him more miserable. The men responsible were killed, and they were Russo’s men. Of course, they were.

  Damon had known from the start, pushing aside his grief to focus on the true act of revenge. His father had wanted swift justice. To see the Russo fall, but Damon had known that wouldn’t be easy. To see Russo suffer, he had to have patience, and right now, part of his plan was already underway.

  Russo would fall at exactly the right moment. With Milah finally in his hands, there was no way Damon would fail.

  With the last updates burnt, Damon decided to walk outside to enjoy the fresh air. Once outside, his guards took several steps back, giving him the space he always required to think.

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looked up into the starry night sky. Both of his parents were dead. One taken by the enemy, another by cancer. He didn’t cry for them. Weakness was not acceptable in the De Luca family. He’d learned not to cry.

  Damon recalled his father’s warning when he was younger.

  “I want you to know this is not because I don’t love you. This is to make you strong. Our enemies will try to grab you, Damon. It is my job to make sure you are able to handle whatever they wish to punish you with.”

  Even as he took a beating from one of the guards, he had stared into his father’s eyes and knew he did it out of love.

  Throughout his life, he had watched men return to them, beaten, some bli
nded, some knocking on death’s door, and he had known there was always a chance. If he ended up in enemy hands, he had to be able to take the pain. So even when his own father wasn’t hurting him, he would make sure he could withstand pain.

  The ink that covered his body hid a multitude of sins.

  He hadn’t been captured by any of his enemies, and being a De Luca, they were far and wide. He had to deal with pain though. Being shot and slashed with a knife were some of the injuries he’d sustained. His car being driven off the road. Beaten. He’d experienced it all.

  Taking another deep breath, he turned around and headed back into the house. No one stopped him as he made his way toward his bedroom where the very beautiful Milah was still recovering.

  No one had been down to the caves, but he had no doubt they were nothing more than bone. The rats were very good at hiding evidence.

  Once he was outside his door, he hesitated. He had tried to avoid this room for the past few days. The doctor had said she needed her rest, and he’d been more than willing to grant it.

  Her time for rest would be coming to an end, very, very soon.

  After opening the door, he stepped inside, expecting to come face to face with battle. Instead, he found Milah curled up on top of his bed.

  He closed the door quietly, not wanting to disturb her. Even from where he stood by the door, he saw she looked peaceful. Flicking the lock into place, he took a step toward her, and another.

  With her guard down, she seemed even more beautiful. Her lips were slightly parted. One of her hands lay flat beside her face. Some of her hair had fallen across her cheek, and with each indrawn breath, it moved closer to her lips before it was pushed out as she exhaled.

  He couldn’t resist moving some of her hair out of the way, just so he could admire her even more. At first, she didn’t wake. Just moved with a little frown, but she was still asleep.

  Like this, so submissive, it would be easy to control her.

  Milah wanted him to think she wasn’t a virgin, but he knew differently. She was innocent. No man had ever been between those luscious thighs.

  He wanted to touch her. To run his hands all over her body.

  Damon held himself back.

  He saw her hand twitch slightly, and she moved just enough to let him know she was coming to.

  He didn’t move back.

  Waiting.

  Poised.

  Her eyes opened, and she jerked back, sitting up. “You’re here.”

  Damon watched as she quickly wiped at her mouth, and he wondered if she’d been drooling, which he found absolutely adorable. What he also was curious about was why she cared enough about what he thought to remove it.

  She was an odd woman. Gorgeous, no doubt about it.

  “How are you, my sleeping kitten?” he asked.

  She glared at him. “You know, it’s weird to stare at a woman sleeping. Kind of creepy, but I guess that is what a De Luca has to do in order to get his rocks off.”

  Damon chuckled. “And my little kitten has the sweetest claws, I see.” He stroked her cheek, and she jerked back.

  There was so much fire and passion within her gaze. He couldn’t help but admire her.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “You know I can’t do that, but the more you fight me, Milah, the sweeter your submission will be.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I am ever going to submit to you.”

  He pressed his body against hers, and just as he knew she would, she sank down to the bed, trying to get away from him. Milah was very easy to read.

  She hated him. That was a given.

  He didn’t like her either.

  What her last name signified was nothing but revulsion to him. A name he intended to wipe out once he used her.

  Every person had a part to play, and he wasn’t going to let Milah get away from hers. She would submit eventually, and he had all the patience in the world.

  Milah had no choice but to spread her legs or risk them being trapped between their bodies. Doing so put his dick right against her core. The flimsy negligee she wore was no match for him.

  She pressed her hands against his chest, and for her effort, he pinned them on either side of her head, locking her into place.

  “Let me go.”

  “You’re the one who wanted underneath me this whole time. I’m starting to think you like me.”

  “Never. You’re a despicable human being.” She wriggled against him, using too much strength.

  He didn’t want to exhaust her. The doctor had said she would be weak for some time.

  Annoyed with himself for pushing her once again a little too far, he pulled away, giving her the space she needed.

  “I’m going for a shower. You are quite free to come and join me.” He glanced down at her lips and couldn’t resist them. With a quick touch, he brushed his mouth against hers, and she gasped. He’d taken her by surprise because she’d let her guard down.

  Pulling away, he smiled as he made his way into the bathroom.

  He’d slid his knife from his holder before he left, without her seeing, and placed it on the bed.

  Milah would use it. She’d come hunting for him.

  Her need for revenge was too strong. Her hatred would make her do some stupid things.

  After removing his clothes, he turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up. Cold showers were never desirable to him. He much preferred the warmth of the water. With his fingers beneath the spray, he tested the water.

  She should have found the knife by now.

  He wanted to watch her, to see how easy it was for her to make this decision, but he didn’t put cameras in his own bedroom. Instead, her room was heavily guarded and filled with cameras so she could never experience a moment’s peace.

  Tipping his head back, he heard the unmistakable sound of the door sliding open. The sudden stillness of it.

  She’d fed right into his trap, and now, there was no escaping.

  Milah was so easy to read. Her hatred of him would be her downfall.

  Or her survival.

  Damon had never been into weak women or doormats. He preferred his women to be full of fire. Milah was filled with hatred, whereas he was used to women worshiping him.

  Through the stall of the shower, he saw her outline and that of his knife. He was impressed with how she held herself.

  Such power.

  Such control.

  Some of his men didn’t even show this kind of dedication. He had to wonder how she was able to fight. His men had told him that she had to be trained in some way, but he didn’t know how.

  Russo wouldn’t allow his daughter to be trained by men. She was merely a woman. The Russos were not known for caring about what happened to their women. They were still pawns in their game.

  So how did Milah do it?

  Who helped her?

  No one had the answers.

  The door to the shower opened, and he waited, counting down the seconds before she struck.

  He saw her reflection in the tile, the hesitation, and that was her downfall.

  If Milah wanted to end him, she should have done it swiftly without taking a second to think about her decision. This was where she messed up.

  He captured her wrist and thrust her to the wall. With his hard grip, she cried out, and the blade fell to the bottom of the shower stall between them. Far enough away from their feet that no one got hurt.

  Now he had her, but what was he going to do with her?

  Chapter Four

  Milah had lied to Damon.

  She was very much a virgin.

  The men who were near her father would never betray him. Not that she’d want to sleep with any of them. The guys at school who were her own age were way too immature. She wasn’t going to risk her father’s wrath just to sleep with them.

  “There is a chance, my sweet, that you will never marry for love. I hope one day you will be able to find love, embrace it, relish it, and hold on to it. It is the greatest feeling in the world.”

  Her mother had sounded like she spoke from experience, but Milah knew she didn’t love her father. Her parents had been a business deal. Nothing more. Her mother had her own wealth, which she brought to the marriage.

  Milah touched her hair, wishing at that moment that her mother was beside her. When she’d been talking about love, there had been a soft smile on her lips, as if she talked from the heart. The way she’d reached out to Milah, stroking her hair back as if in fondness.