Mistress to a Monster Read online

  Hands clenched, she looked away from the bathroom and saw the metal glint on the bed.

  Crawling toward it, almost afraid of what it was, she saw it was his knife. How did it get on the bed?

  He must have put it there. Or had it fallen out?

  Was this a test?

  Was Damon testing to see if she would try to kill him?

  She touched her finger to the tip of the side of the blade. It was cold to the touch.

  “You must learn how to hold a weapon.”

  “Mom, please?”

  “No, please. Do you think anyone is going to listen to your pleas? You’re a Russo. They are going to hold it against you, no matter where you go. All you can do is arm yourself.”

  The training had been brutal. She had to learn so much and all the while, her mother looked on, completely guarded. Almost as if she was watching something that bored her. Milah knew she did it out of love though. Love for her daughter.

  That was her way of protecting her daughter against her own father. Not that her father would hurt her in that way. Never. But he would sell her, like he had done so now to save his own damn hide.

  Hatred coursed through her, and this time, it wasn’t directed to her enemy, but to her father. He would suffer for what he’d done.

  She hoped right now he was feeling nothing but humiliation and shame for what he’d done. How his men and those closest to him would see him as nothing but weak. He’d given in to De Luca.

  He would fall one day, and when he did, she hoped to watch. Even though it meant her own life would soon follow. She was a Russo.

  Gripping the handle of the blade, she held it tight within her grasp and stared toward the door. She would kill him and be free. That was all she wanted. A freedom away from this life. Away from her name. She never wanted to be a Russo, preferring to be a Flynn, which was her mother’s maiden name.

  With the knife in her hand, she felt the weight of it. This had to be his personal knife. The one he used to maim, to kill. It was impeccable. The feel of it in her hand was … strange. She had never held anything so fine. Her mother had only been able to use generic hunting knives and whatever weapon the soldiers were able to sneak in.

  This was a fine piece she held. One she imagined had seen a lot of death.

  Sharp as well.

  Climbing off the bed, she advanced toward the bathroom but forced herself to pause. This wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t have much of a chance of killing him. This would be nothing short of a death wish.

  Could she do it?

  Another few steps, and she opened the door and winced at hearing the slight squeak from the hinge.

  Damon didn’t appear, and she breathed a sigh of relief. With every step she took, she had to wonder if she should hold herself back.

  She got to the shower and reached out to open the door. This was a big mistake. She knew that without even reaching for it, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  This was her chance. Even if she killed him now, his guards wouldn’t let her live. She would have to find a way to sneak away. With the door open, she was about to step inside, but all of a sudden, Damon grabbed her and thrust her against the wall, startling her with how quickly he reacted.

  She cried out as he grabbed her wrist. The pressure provided enough pain for her to drop the knife. She pulled her feet back, not wanting them to be cut.

  Milah couldn’t look away as she stared at Damon. He was completely naked.

  She hadn’t thought this through. She’d never seen a man naked before. So long as she didn’t look down, she wouldn’t see just how naked she was.

  The shower sprayed between them, but Damon decided to close the distance, and then he was right next to her.

  All she wore was a thin, cotton negligee. It reminded her of something out of a historical period drama. There was no shape to it, but it provided coverage and modesty. With his hands on her shoulders, his body so close to hers, she wished she had some kind of armor to keep him away. There was nothing to protect her.

  “You do have a death wish, don’t you?” he asked.

  She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her firm.

  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You knew I would grab it.”

  He chuckled. “You’re exactly right. What I want to know is how a Russo can hold a knife so expertly.”

  “I’m no expert.”

  “You have been able to fight my men, take them by surprise, figure out ways of escaping. Climbing down the side of buildings, and now you’re able to hold a knife in a way that shows it’s not just self-defense. How?”

  She wanted to avert her gaze, but with how he looked at her, it was next to impossible.

  She couldn’t tell him. This was part of her training.

  “I have no idea what you mean,” she said.

  “They could train you to take care of yourself, but they sure didn’t train you to be a good liar. You’re shitty at it.”

  “And you’re a shitty captor.”

  As far as comebacks went, that one was awful, and she tried not to wince. All he did was laugh, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  To him, it probably was.

  Damon took her by surprise, though. Rather than call his men and order her death, or to be locked up, he closed the distance between them.

  She was right.

  Her negligee was flimsy and not designed to ward off his body. Certainly a rather pointy part of his anatomy. She tensed up as his cock pressed against her stomach.

  It had to be that. Or he was harvesting some kind of alien life force.

  She wanted to look, but she kept her gaze on his.

  This was the only way to survive.

  Even as her heart raced and the desire to look down was so strong, she held it together, against all the odds. It would be so easy to look down. To see what he was … keeping alive.

  “You think I’m a captor? Do you think this is some kind of romance tale?”

  She glared at him. How dare he mock her? He had no idea who he was dealing with. She tried to push him away, but all that achieved was to bring him even closer as he pressed her hands above her head, locking her in place.

  “I hate you.”

  It wasn’t a great threat. He probably loved that she hated him.

  “And I hate you, Milah Russo. I hate your kind. I hate your name, and one day, you will die because of it.”

  “Then kill me now. Get what you want.”

  He chuckled. It wasn’t a nice sound.

  “You think that is all I want?” Another laugh. This one sounded on the verge of hysteria.

  Milah had no idea what he had planned, but she also didn’t want to know.

  He leaned in close so his lips were beside her ear. “Do you think I am a man so easily satisfied?”

  “I think you’re a sick, evil, twisted bastard. Just like all the De Lucas.” They were responsible for killing her mother. It was why her father had been on a warpath, so determined to end every single one of them. He’d failed.

  Now she was at the mercy of them.

  Damon De Luca. She hated him so damn much.

  “Fighting words, but if I end your life, I don’t get to see you fall, do I? I don’t get to watch all of the Russos fall, and that is exactly what is going to happen. I have plans for you, Milah.”

  He tugged her hands above her head and stroked her cheek. He stepped back, and when his gaze roamed down her body, there was no mistaking what he intended.

  “You’re going to rape me?” she asked.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. De Lucas were all the same. Monsters. Animals.

  “Oh, sweet Milah, when you come to my bed, you are going to be begging for my cock.”

  “Never.”

  “No?” he asked, and within seconds, her hands were released.

  She wanted to run past him, to find a means of escape, but he was in front of the door, blocking her exit, and she didn’t think the glass on the side of the stall would be easy enough to break.

  Milah stared at him. With the gap he’d created between them, she was able to look at him. It couldn’t be avoided. He did it on purpose. There was no doubt.

  His cock was hard.

  How could he be hard at a time like this?

  She watched as he wrapped his fingers around his length.

  “Trust me, Milah Russo, when you finally come to my bed and spread those pretty pale thighs of yours, you are going to be hungry for my cock. Begging me to fuck you.” He moved his hand up and down his length.

  She didn’t want to look but found her gaze drawn to him. This wasn’t fair. No one had ever done this to her before. She didn’t know what to do.

  The desire to run was strong, but there was no escape.

  Milah couldn’t stop looking as he worked his dick.

  He looked so … fierce. So large.

  She nibbled on her lip and hated that she was even curious as to what he was doing. He held himself so tightly, it had to hurt. There was no way he was enjoying what he was doing, but he stayed long.

  Milah was a virgin. She’d never been with a man before, but she had read a great deal, and had even watched some porn at her mother’s insistence.

  That had been an … experience.

  Her mother had wanted her to be prepared for everything, unlike herself. She had told her that her wedding night hadn’t gone to plan.

  Even though she hadn’t wanted to hear about what happened between her parents, she knew it had been bad.

  She pulled out of the memory.

  Damon’s actions increased in speed, and she heard his groan as he got close.

  The tension in his body seemed to mount, and then, she didn’t look away as he finally came. His cum spilled out
of the tip and onto the bathroom stall.

  “You will beg me for my cock, and what’s more, there will come a time when you’ll beg to lick every single drop of spunk, and I look forward to that day.”

  ****

  Snow had fallen like the weather forecast had predicted.

  A nice blanket of white covered his property. The house was freezing, and his guards and maids had no choice but to gather some firewood, to help warm the house. It was just typical that his central heating had to give out just as there was a snowstorm.

  Milah wasn’t in her room.

  After their moment in the bathroom, Damon had decided it was time for her to go to her own room. He needed his space, and to have that, Milah had to be far away.

  He’d been so close to breaking his own rules and simply fucking her. It would have been easy.

  Milah would have put up a fight, but he’d seen her body’s reaction to him. The flush to her cheeks, the budding of her nipples. She’d been aroused by him playing with himself. He had to wonder if she would be wet. He’d find out soon enough.

  It took several hours to get the house warm, but as he stood in his office, he stared at the flames. There was no way he’d be able to get a plumber or an electrician out to the house. More snow was forecast to fall.

  This was just fucking typical.

  His father had told him to always be on top of the house, and that meant the barest of needs. Check on leaky roofs, the gas boiler, all of it.

  He’d been so blinded by his thirst for revenge on Russo, he’d allowed the house to fall behind in its maintenance.

  This house was part of De Luca blood. His family had been here for several generations. Once the snow was thawed, he would have the necessary work taken to repair it. His father would have been angry at him right now.

  There was a knock at his door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  He turned to see James entering. “Sir … er…”

  “What is it?”

  “The Russo girl is in the kitchen and the staff don’t know what to do.”

  Damon frowned. “What?”

  James repeated it, not that he needed him to. With there being no warmth in the house, he had to put the guards on wood duty, chopping and gathering it.

  Milah should have stayed in her room, beneath the covers, not in the kitchen.

  Brushing past James, he made his way toward the kitchen, and sure enough, his staff kept a distance from her. Even the chef didn’t want anything to do with her.

  There was like a wall around Milah, and he stared at the woman, wondering if she cared at all that many people couldn’t stand her just because she was a Russo.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Milah looked up. She wore a large turtleneck sweater with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. He didn’t see what she wore underneath as she also wore an apron. Her long raven hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her face that had seemed so pale the past few days was finally blooming with color. Her cheeks were a little flushed.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked. “I’m cooking.”

  “If you plan to poison me, don’t bother.”

  “As if I would know how to get poison. No matter what you think, De Luca, I am simply coming here to cook. My mother—” She stopped. Her lips pressed together, and he watched as she also paused in her cutting.

  “Your mother what?”

  He wasn’t interested in what she had to say. If she didn’t answer him, he’d have the guards escort her out of the kitchen.

  “My mother always said that a casserole always had the ability to warm the body. She would … make this whenever there was a snowstorm.” Milah wouldn’t look at him, but he heard the catch in her voice.

  Damon stared at her.

  She was … upset. The snowstorm reminded her of her mother.

  He’d never met the woman, but sources and spies had told him she was a lovely woman. Sweet and kind. Not a good match for Russo.

  “I will not intervene with your staff or your chef. I only ask for a small space, a few ingredients, and a pot. That is all.”

  “What do I get out of it?” Damon asked.

  Milah looked up, and he saw that she’d gotten herself under control. “You don’t have to worry about me running off.”

  “I don’t worry about that anyway.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  She was a foolish woman.

  “You will come to my room tonight.”

  Her jaw clenched.

  What would she do?

  “Fine.” She looked down and got to work.

  He smiled. “Make sure she has everything she needs.” He nodded toward the chef to keep an eye on her.

  Milah may not be able to get her hands on poison, but there were enough cleaning products within a house to make it quite easy to harm someone. He wouldn’t put it past her to try.

  After leaving the kitchen, he made his way back to his office and found himself more curious than he liked.

  At his desk, he pulled out his key and unlocked the bottom drawer. He grabbed the file and flicked it open. It held all the details of Milah, of her life. Where she went to school. Her grades. Even people she associated with, which were none. Milah was closed off to everything and everyone.

  No one wanted to be friends with a Russo. He wasn’t surprised. They were the enemy.

  There wasn’t enough information on her mother.

  He grabbed his cell phone and dialed his man who liked to be known as Genius. Damon entertained him because so far, no matter the request, he’d been able to supply.

  “What’s up?” Genius asked.

  “I need you to find some information for me on, Edith Russo, previously known as Flynn.”

  “Are you sure? The woman’s dead, sir.”

  “I know she’s dead, but I want to know everything. Every tiny little detail.”

  “All the dirty stuff, got it.”

  “Soon.” He hung up and placed the phone in front of him on the desk. Milah was cooking in his mother’s kitchen.

  He gripped the edge of the desk and decided to go to the security room, which was located on the first floor.

  His guards were all busy, and no one called to distract him.

  Entering the computer room, he saw all the screens were blank. He typed in his password, and the screens came to life. Every single one that was around his property, from the front gate, through the forest, and all around the house.

  He typed in the code to bring up the kitchen, and he stood, watching Milah.

  No one approached her. His staff kept a wide berth, and Milah just chopped away.

  She didn’t get in anyone’s way, nor did she threaten anyone.

  One of the maids approached Milah, and he watched her look up, and for the first time since she got here, she smiled. Actually smiled, and he gritted his teeth.

  Milah was beautiful. No doubt about it. But when she smiled, he felt like he’d been punched to the gut. She was even more stunning. He saw the dimples in the corner of her cheeks, and her eyes had this twinkle. She didn’t look guarded as she smiled, but almost as if she was lost in her own little world.

  Mesmerizing.

  He cleared his throat as the maid rounded the counter, stood beside Milah, and started to help.

  Was she not afraid?

  Most of the staff were, especially after she had shot James and hurt others.

  Damon eased out the chair, sat down, and watched her. She looked so natural in the kitchen. Like she was in the kitchen often.

  She placed lots of vegetables within a pot, and the maid went to grab the kettle on the far stove. The chef glared at her, but the maid didn’t stop.

  She helped Milah, who stirred the hot water into her pot, and then handed it back to the maid.

  He grabbed the walkie-talkie on the counter in the security room and requested the kitchen maid working with Milah to be brought to him in his office.

  Milah put the lid onto the pot and slid it into the oven. She looked at the oven with such intent.

  He waited until she stood back, but Milah didn’t leave the kitchen. She started to clean away her mess.

  Why?

  He had staff to do that.

  Milah wasn’t acting how he expected a Russo brat to act.

  Angry, he turned off the screens, shut down the feed, and then left the room to go to his office where the maid looked nervous.

  “Why did you help her?” he asked.