Mistress to a Monster Page 7

  The time he’d spent with her in the maze had been short and sweet, but the encounter had stayed with him for the past three years.

  He’d met spoiled bitches. Fucked plenty of them in his time. They were used to getting what they wanted with the simple snap of their fingers. On her birthday, with all gazes on her, she’d run away.

  “You are to keep me company tonight. Have you forgotten?” he asked.

  “You want to talk in riddles and questions.”

  “Do you not have any questions for me?”

  “I have nothing I want to say to you,” she said.

  Damon stepped back. “Then let us merely enjoy each other’s company without the pressure of talking.” He moved back until he was perched on the edge of the bed. “You can’t leave, not yet. I will have to punish you.”

  “Why?”

  “You asked for something, I granted it. If you don’t make payment, there are always consequences.”

  “And a De Luca always expects payment?” she asked.

  “Only a fool wouldn’t.”

  Part of him wanted her to go to the door, to make a run for it. Not all punishments ended in a dungeon with rats. Some could be quite pleasing.

  Instead, she moved toward him and sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands poised in her lap.

  Not a word was spoken. Silence fell between them, and Damon watched her.

  She took a deep breath. It was slow, calming.

  He watched her chest rise and then slowly fall. She did this several times. Her palms went from gripping her thighs to resting with them up. She kept looking around the room and not at him.

  He waited. Damon was used to silence.

  Milah tilted her head from left to right. Rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, glanced around. Looked at him. Quickly looked away.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. She wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all him.

  Damon waited.

  Curious.

  “What do you want?” Milah asked.

  “I take it you don’t want to sit in silence.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know you can do whatever you want to me, so why wait? Why not get it over with?” she asked, shooting her accusatory glare his way.

  He reached out and stroked some of her hair back behind her ear. “And why would I do that?” he asked. “Your begging will be so much more enjoyable.”

  Milah sank to her knees, clasped her hands together, and raised them. “Please, let me go. I am begging you. This fight is not between us. Your problem is with my father. Please, just let me go.”

  Now this was a sudden turn of events he didn’t anticipate.

  Sinking to his knees in front of Milah, he cupped her face, tilting her head back to look at him. “And why would I do that when I can have so much fun with you?” He ran his thumb across her lips and leaned in close. The temptation to kiss her was strong, but he held himself back, wanting to make her wait.

  Part of the pleasure was the anticipation.

  Milah would relent eventually.

  All he had to do was wait. He could make her life difficult or easy. It was up to her. Personally, he wanted it to be all pleasure, but he knew Milah would fight him.

  He looked forward to it.

  Damon moved his lips toward her ear, and he felt her tense up. The neck was such an erogenous zone. He wondered if she felt arousal. Was her tight pussy soaking wet? He’d find out soon enough.

  “It’s nice to hear you beg, but have you ever thought that it might be amazing between us?” he asked. “Your tight little cunt sliding up and down my cock. I could give you the world, Milah. Show you how good it can be between us. All you have to do is give in.”

  “Do you have to force all the women you sleep with?”

  He chuckled. “They beg with me entering the room.”

  “You sicken me.”

  “One day, you’re going to want me. Let us see if I will still want you then.” He grabbed her arm and moved her toward his door. He pushed her out with enough force to make her stumble. “Take her to her room.”

  Milah shot him a glare, and for her effort, he gave her a wink.

  It was going to take more than a few glares to anger him.

  After closing his door, he moved toward the balcony. The night was cold, but he didn’t care. His cock was rock fucking hard, and there was no way he was going to be able to satisfy his craving for that woman with anyone else. The only woman he wanted was Milah. He didn’t care about the age gap between them.

  Age was just a number.

  Milah would belong to him.

  He could just fuck her and be done with it. Force her to take his cock, but of all the bad things he’d done in his lifetime, rape wasn’t one of them.

  Damon refused to be tarnished with that brush, even if previous De Luca generations had been known to do it. His father hadn’t. Neither had he. His grandfather, however, that was … different. Damon knew of the tales of his grandfather trapping young women. Especially those who didn’t desire him. Not because of his wealth or looks. Grandad De Luca had been a wealthy, handsome man back in the day. The women who rejected him didn’t want anything to do with the De Luca name. It was one of the reasons the De Lucas and Russos were at war.

  Damon didn’t like the tale.

  His father said it wasn’t exactly accurate, but apparently there was a young Russo woman. Eighteen, beautiful. Considered to be the most beautiful woman in the country. His grandfather wanted her, but the Russo patriarch of the time denied him. There was no way a De Luca and a Russo would ever marry.

  So, because she wasn’t given to his grandfather, she was taken.

  This was where the tale twisted. Some believed she died on the way to his grandfather. Others said she was taken to his grandfather where he raped her repeatedly until he drove her crazy and she took her own life.

  Damon knew his grandfather was evil.

  The bastard had a thirst for blood that his son didn’t quite inherit. With the Russo girl’s death, the war between the two families spilled out. There was no chance of peace. After Russo killed Damon’s mother, De Luca had finally sworn to put an end to the violence by simply wiping out the Russo line.

  Not only was he going to do that, but he was also going to make sure Milah Russo bore him a son. He would raise that boy a De Luca, and Russo would know that his own grandson would have De Luca blood running in his veins.

  Milah was part of his plan.

  What he wanted more than anything was to see her fall.

  She was a Russo, and making her fall in love with him, then shattering her world, was also part of his plan. He had inherited some of his grandfather’s evil, but rather than allow it to fester, he would release it.

  Chapter Six

  Milah was twenty-one years old.

  Playing in the snow was for children.

  Damon had finally rectified the problem within the house, and the rooms were warm. Glory had told her that several parts of the house had been closed off to help sustain the heating.

  She hated that she loved this old house. The only bad part about it was the fact it was owned by De Luca. Men and women from that family had been born and raised here.

  The house was more … homey than the one where she lived. Her father wouldn’t allow her to leave home, even though she had tried to do so many times. He didn’t believe in daughters going out on their own until they were married. It was such an archaic way of thinking, and she had laughed at him, which had earned her a slap for her troubles.

  For all of his ranting on tradition and what was expected of a Russo woman, he’d given her up to his enemy.

  She and Damon were never going to marry. This wasn’t a love match. Was it even a business contract? Damon got to play with Russo’s daughter for an extended length of time.

  Milah needed to understand the full ramifications and terms her father had agreed to. She had no idea how she was going to do that without speaking to her father. Or would Damon tell her?

  She doubted it. He would want to keep his power over her by any means possible.

  She was all alone.

  Wrapping her arms around her body, she snuggled into the thick sweater Glory had brought with her, along with the rest of her clothes. She wasn’t allowed to have any clothes. The bedroom was always bare apart from the bed. Glory was the one to bring her clothes in the morning, and she assumed at night as well. Every night, she left Damon’s room, escorted by a guard to her own room. The lock was always slid into place, only to be removed when Glory entered.

  The first day she made it down to the kitchen with no one to stop her had surprised her. She expected there to be guards all over wanting to kill her. There were still guards, but they were assigned different jobs.

  Staring out the window, across the gardens, it was hard not to be mesmerized by the fallen snow. She didn’t want to marvel at its beauty, nor take a walk outside, but she … couldn’t look away.

  Even as a girl, she’d loved the snow. Hearing it crunch beneath her feet, and as she walked, seeing it glisten on the ground.

  Her mother liked the snow whenever Antonio wasn’t around. There were a lot of things her mother enjoyed doing when he wasn’t near. She missed her mother dearly right now. No amount of holding herself was going to rid her memories or her wishing for her mother.

  Milah spun around as she heard the door being thrust open. This morning, Glory had told her to wait in her bedroom. The house was in a little bit of chaos, but De Luca wanted her to remain here.

  Her first instinct had been to make a run for it. This might be her only opportunity to get free, but as she’d gone to the door, intent on opening it, and finally embracing the chance of freedom, she had stopped herself. What if … this was a trap? What
if Damon expected her to make a run for it, and as punishment, Glory suffered?

  She didn’t know Glory all that well, and she doubted they would ever be besties. It didn’t for a second mean she wanted the young woman to suffer.

  Rather than push open the door, she’d stepped back, sat on her bed, and waited. There would be a time and place for her to make a run for it. Damon would lose his guard, or something. She had to keep on hoping for some kind of miracle.

  Anything.

  What she wouldn’t do was use someone else, an innocent, as a means to make her escape.

  Damon stood before her now, his gaze focused on her. Did he expect her to run? Had she passed his stupid test? What was he thinking?

  Rather than ask any questions, she dropped her hands by her sides and greeted him. “Hello,” she said.

  He smiled. “Are you liking the snow?”

  She glanced behind her at the view. There was no point in denying the appeal. “It looks beautiful.”

  “That it does.” He nodded his head in agreement. “Very beautiful. How would you like to take a walk with me?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but then she stopped herself. Why would she refuse him?

  “I’d like that.”

  His brows went up, and she took a step toward him. “I don’t have a jacket.”

  He snapped his fingers, and Glory entered the room.

  She smiled at the young woman, taking the jacket from her.

  This wasn’t what she expected, and when Damon offered her his arm, she was tempted to refuse.

  Sliding her hand around his arm, they walked out together, making their way downstairs. The corridors were large enough to accommodate two people side by side.

  She couldn’t resist taking quick glances. Every now and then, she looked at him, curious as to what was going on in his mind.

  The rumors that circulated about the De Lucas always made the women fearful. They knew of Damon’s grandfather who had no problem with stealing women, raping them, bringing them to the point of death, and at times, even killing them.

  She had expected Damon to be the same.

  Only, he was different. He hadn’t forced himself on her.

  If anything, other than the dungeon, he’d been a perfect host.

  “You keep looking at me like that, I’m going to wonder if I’ve got something on my face,” he said.

  Then he’d say things like that, almost teasing. There was a smile on his lips, and she didn’t know what to say or think.

  “You have nothing on your face and you know it.”

  “Then you’re admiring my face?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t do anything of the sort.”

  “You know a lot of women would love to be in your position.”

  “Locked away. No freedom. Fearing for my life. Surrounded by people who despise me. I see the appeal.”

  He chuckled. “Now that you put it that way.”

  “I have no desire to be here, Damon. You know that. You don’t want me here.”

  “Oh, but I do,” he said. “This is where you’re going to stay.”

  “Is this part of your punishment?” she asked, coming to a stop before they even got to the garden. “To lure me into a false sense of security. Will you kill me?”

  He patted her hand and leaned in close. “I have no interest in killing you. You haven’t betrayed me.”

  “And you only kill people who betray you?” she asked.

  “No, but that is usually the case within this house.”

  She wanted to argue with him. “I’m a Russo. My very name tells you that you should hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have no reason to.”

  That was a lie. Milah refused to be pulled into tricks.

  The doors to the garden opened, and she was tempted to go back to her room. To run and hide, but instead, she felt the chill against her cheeks.

  It felt so good compared to the chill around the house. This was crisp and fresh, and a little exciting.

  She stepped forward, following alongside Damon as they made their way outside. The sneakers she wore were no protection against the ice. Her foot gave out, and if it wasn’t for Damon, she’d have fallen to the ground, but he caught her, keeping her balanced with his thick, strong arm wrapped around her waist.

  Milah chuckled. “I’m sorry.”

  “I should have known to buy you some boots. Those shoes are no match for the cold weather.”

  They went to move again, and Milah burst out laughing as her feet skidded across the thick patch of ice. Damon had no choice but to haul her up against his body, and she gasped. Their faces were so close together.

  “I think it is easier if I carry you off this ice.”

  She didn’t want to touch him, but she also didn’t want to fall on the hard ground. Hating herself for showing any kind of weakness, she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to him as he carried her the short distance to the snow. The porch had become nothing more than an ice hazard. Any other day, any other time, far away from De Luca, she would have enjoyed the ice.

  With his arms on her, she found it hard to focus. De Luca was her enemy. Her sworn enemy because of their last names. She wouldn’t give in to him.

  Milah remained tense in his arms, refusing to give in. He placed her on the ground once they were in the thick snow. She tried to remain angry and indifferent toward him, but with the snow coming nearly to her knees, she refused to ignore the joy racing through her body.

  Letting go of Damon, she held herself steady, trying to lift her legs, and as she did, more snow seemed to gather around her ankles. She couldn’t stop laughing, especially as she stumbled, falling flat onto the snow.

  Without Damon’s help, she got back to her feet and smiled at him. “Are you not having fun?” she asked.

  She grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it his way. The ball landed against his chest. Not too hard, but playful.

  “You want to go there?”

  “You brought me out here, I’m guessing to have some fun. Let us have some fun.” She gathered up another snowball but cried out as Damon was already there, snowball in hand, and he threw it at her.

  She quickly turned, and it hit her back. Smiling, she moved fast, throwing her new ball toward him. This one hit him in the stomach.

  It didn’t stop Damon as he threw his, and Milah cried out as it hit the base of her neck. Again, not hard, but the cold leaked beneath the collar of her jacket and sweater.

  She didn’t have time to pick up another one before he was throwing another her way. Milah attempted to make a mad dash for it, trying to run away, but with how thick the snow was, there was no chance of escaping.

  Damon also wasn’t about to let her go free so easily. He charged toward her. She tried to pick up snowballs, most of them missing their target, and when she thought she might be able to evade him. Damon wrapped his arms around her waist. Before she knew what was happening, they were on the ground. The snow buffeted her back as she landed with Damon on top of her.

  Her legs were open, and he was between them. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her core. His jeans were a little thick, but she felt him. The thickness of him as he was right next to her.

  Damon was aroused. She had done that to him.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  She felt it. Licking her lips, she tried to think, but no words came. She stared up at him, hating that she could admit he was handsome. Scary as fuck. Even with him wearing a high neck sweater, she saw the ink just peeking from beneath the band.

  Damon was heavily tattooed. She’d seen him in the shower. His arms, chest, back, even some on his legs. All of him was covered in some form of ink.

  Biting her lip, she stared up at him. Many women would not mind being trapped between the snow and his body. They were not her.

  This man was her enemy, but she refused to spoil the day by saying something rotten. “You may have me right now, but you don’t own me,” she said, showing him a smile to let him know her words were not bitter.

  Damon chuckled. For a change, the sound wasn’t ugly. He closed the distance between them so that his lips were against her ear. “Are you sure about that?”

  ****

  “Come in,” Damon said, calling toward the knock on his office door.

  Ever since Milah had been in his house, he’d noticed an increase in knocking on his door. He missed the times of complete silence and peace where he could catch up with work.