Mistress to a Monster Page 9

  Damon stepped away from her.

  She heard the door to the building close, followed by the bolt sliding into place. They were locked inside.

  “What is going on?” she asked.

  “You’ll find a set of gym clothes there.” He pointed off to the left. “Change into them.”

  Milah hesitated but knew there was no point in arguing with him. Damon got what he wanted. She realized that quite quickly. She looked at the gym clothes and then tried to find somewhere to change into.

  “Change there,” Damon said. “No one is here to see you or take pictures.”

  “You’re here.”

  “And I won’t look.”

  She didn’t want to be out of her large clothes that swamped her body, but now was not the time to fight him.

  Without looking at him, she put the clothes down and did a quick swap, changing into the gym gear. The shirt wasn’t as fitted, which she was thankful for. The yoga pants and bralette fit like a second skin.

  She appreciated the shirt she could slip right on over the top.

  Damon was already on the mat when she finished, and she didn’t want to join him, but she had no choice. There was nowhere for her to run to.

  Damon looked at her, and she stared back at him.

  What was going on?

  His gaze ran up and down her body, but he wasn’t looking at her like a woman, but as an opponent. Her mother’s guards had taught her to assess body language, including the way someone looked at her as well. The key to survival was being able to read each situation. To know how best to fight.

  She didn’t want to fight Damon.

  He charged at her, and Milah had two choices, allow him to hit her or to attack. She tried not to respond, but it was instinct. She didn’t like pain, so she blocked his hit. He came at her from the side. She ducked down and thrust her leg up, connecting with his stomach, and he pushed back.

  Damon chuckled. “So you are trained.”

  She stood up and folded her arms, keeping him within her sight. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “They said that you moved like you had some training. Not like a panicked woman. The way you fight, you know what you’re doing.”

  “Your men clearly lie to you. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  Damon moved fast, and Milah tried to react like someone who hadn’t been trained, but Damon didn’t give up. There was only so much evading she could do.

  When he nearly punched her in the face, Milah had no choice. She attacked, spinning around, jabbing his ribs with her elbow, and then hitting him in the face.

  She spun around, and this time, she attacked him.

  Her mother had told her to defend herself. To never show what she could do, but with Damon right now, she was tired of him. Once she went on the attack, Damon had no choice but to defend. As she took him by surprise with her actions, he also tried not to hurt her.

  Damon was treating her like a girl.

  It wasn’t long before she straddled his waist, with her hands locked around his neck. “If I had a knife right now, you would be dead.”

  She gasped as he grabbed her hips and moved so that she felt the hardness of his erection. His grip was too tight. She couldn’t move away from him, and he knew it.

  His chuckle made her angry.

  “And you, my little kitten, have some of the sexiest claws I have ever had the pleasure of feeling.”

  She tried to get up, but Damon used her annoyance against her, spinning them around so she was flat on her back. “Get off me.”

  “Who trained you?”

  “That is none of your business.” She had fallen into his trap and now, she had to find a means of escape before he fucked everything up.

  Damon grabbed her hands and pressed them to either side of her head. With her legs spread open, there was no getting away from his hardness. She hated that the feel of him made her feel warm. “Let me go.”

  “Not going to happen.” He smiled. “Why would I let you go now when I know so much already?”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “Who trained you?”

  He pressed his lips to her ear. “Do you think I won’t find out? I wonder what your father will say when he finds out that his daughter can fight.”

  Her mother’s guards were still alive. She couldn’t allow anything to happen to them.

  Fuck.

  He’d pushed her into a corner, and she’d fallen for it. If she hadn’t reacted at all, he wouldn’t have the upper hand.

  “My mom taught me!” she yelled. She closed her eyes, hating how easily he had manipulated her.

  “Your mom?”

  “My mom’s guards.” She opened her eyes and stared at him, glaring, defiant. “She knew this world wasn’t fair to women. To help, she … she made sure that her only daughter knew how to fight. How to take care of herself, and so she trained me. Without my father ever knowing. She got her men to teach me everything I know, which is why I know how to fight.”

  ****

  Damon had no intention of ever telling Russo what he knew about his daughter. His only mission when it came to that man was to bring him down, begging and pleading for his life.

  Only then would he be satisfied.

  Milah fighting, that wasn’t a bad thing as far as he was concerned. Her ability to defend herself made a whole lot of sense to him. This world wasn’t kind to women. Milah was living proof of that.

  Her father had told him he could have anything he wanted, but not to kill him. He’d asked for Milah. Not for marriage, but for his daughter. He’d given her to him without batting an eye.

  After their session in the gym where Damon had asked her to spar with him, they’d returned to the main house. Milah left to get washed and changed, and he’d gone to the basement, where his chef was chained up.

  He hadn’t attended to him last night, dealing with the staff. Three of the women were dead. Two more he’d made sure they never defied him again, sent to one of the street whorehouses. They would earn their keep one way or another. Not with the rich cock, but with cheap dick.

  The small light of the basement was lit, and he stared at his chef, his body limp as the chains held him up.

  “How the mighty does fall,” Damon said.

  “You can’t kill me. Your father offered me protection,” the chef said, coughing.

  “And you think he’s alive somewhere to see that you are?” Damon asked. He laughed. It was sinister.

  He used to like the chef. Not as a boy. He’d hated him. The man was cruel and would often swat at him if he even dared to sneak into the kitchen to steal food. It was strange he hadn’t thought of that time until this very moment.

  His father had always said the chef was just looking after his domain. The kitchen was his responsibility, and it was up to him to serve them all good food.

  Damon stepped in front of the chef. “You never stepped out of line. Even after my father died. You were always sure to do as you were told. Never making waves. Until now.”

  “She has no right to sit at your table. To cook in my kitchen.”

  “That kitchen is mine!” Damon yelled. “It was never yours, and you thought to poison my guest.”

  “It would be a kindness to her.”

  Damon picked up one of the chef’s knives. He’d watched him use it as a boy, striping the skin from fish. It was sharp, with a nice point, and also flexible.

  “You see this? I wonder if it will do the same trick on human flesh as it does to fish.”

  The chef’s screams filled the basement. With his body wriggling, Damon took large chunks of flesh off the man’s body.

  The pain got too much for him, and he passed out.

  Damon didn’t stop though. Unbeknownst to his father, he had learned the fine art of torture from his grandfather. He continued to take more pieces until he was bored. Some of his guards were in the room, waiting. They were the ones with the strongest stomachs.

  When he was a young boy of about eleven, his parents went away on a honeymoon, leaving him at home with his grandfather. Now, his grandfather was a cruel man, but to his grandson, he wasn’t. Damon liked his grandfather, even if he didn’t agree with the man’s methods most of the time, if at all. The De Lucas always had enemies. Not just the Russo, but far and wide. One night, the house was attacked. Some of the guards had turned against his grandfather because of his cruel treatment of them, and it had put them all in danger.

  Damon had nearly been killed, but his father had shown him how to hunt, and killing had been natural to him.

  His grandfather had been proud to see the men who had attempted to kill him dead on the floor. As a reward, he got to see what they did to the enemy. It was the first time he watched his grandfather torture.

  “To survive in this world, Damon, you need to be willing to do the unthinkable. To be willing to hurt those who would take from you. The more people fear you, the greater you will become.”

  After Damon threw a bucket of water onto the chef, he came to, screaming, gasping, begging.

  Damon wasn’t done teaching this man a lesson. He didn’t want to think about why he was so angry. Why it bothered him that this man would dare to serve a Russo dog shit or poison. Milah had nothing to do with this.

  With every passing hour, it was hard to think of her as a Russo. Her actions didn’t scream of it.

  Anyone else would have allowed her mother’s guards to be killed. Her father would be furious to know what she could do. He had no doubt. Russo hated powerful women. It was why none of his closest allies were women.

  Damon didn’t mind a strong woman, even a powerful one. Milah being able to hold her own against him was something he greatly admired.

  He stared at the c
hef, and with a final slash across his throat, he ended his miserable existence. He waited and watched the life slowly drain out of him before he stepped back.

  After stripping out of his bloodstained clothes, he washed his hands in the sink and then grabbed a fresh pair of pants and a shirt to change into. His men were already dealing with the body.

  He left the basement and went straight to his office to pour himself a drink. Taking the first sip, he moved toward the sofa as his cell phone rang.

  Damon reached for it as he took a seat, seeing Raoul on the line. Raoul was his closest friend and ally when it came to his initial takeover after his father passed. He was the one who helped sniff out all the possible traitors, intent on taking his position, and there had been a lot of them. More than Damon cared to remember.

  “What do you have for me?” he asked.

  “Russo is trying to reach out to your enemies. He is attempting to overthrow your power. I’ve also heard word that he is trying to get a message to his daughter about the instructions he wants her to do while she is with you.”

  “And what are those instructions exactly?” Damon asked.

  “To find your weak spot. To worm her way into your heart and to expose you for the weakling he believes you to be.”

  Damon chuckled. “Really? Do we know who will be the messenger?”

  “That is where I’m having difficulty. I’m not sure exactly who it is. My sources don’t know either.”

  Damon tensed up. “Someone in our guards.”

  “That’s what I’m figuring.”

  This was … infuriating. He looked at his office door, and now he had to deal with a potential in-house traitor. This pissed him off.

  Sipping at his whiskey, he tsked and leaned forward to put the glass on the coffee table.

  “Anything else?”

  “Sources tell me he’s trying to figure a way of breaking into her mother’s inheritance. Milah Russo is a very rich woman, but until she reaches the right age and circumstances, no one can gain access to those funds.”

  “Do we know what age and circumstances are?”

  “No. No one does.”

  “I’ve got Genius working on the finer details of everything.” Not that he needed the money, but he had to gain ultimate control of everything that once was owned by a Russo. Her mother had gained the name through marriage, and he doubted it was a happy one. Still, her assets were a potential liability to his plan.

  “I’ll keep an eye here. I will have more information for you in a few days.” He didn’t hang up but hesitated for a few seconds.

  “What is it?”

  “How … is she?” Raoul asked.

  Damon gritted his teeth as he thought about the wildcat staying in his home. “She is … everything I said she was.”

  “And you still intend to go through with your plan?”

  “Nothing is going to stop me.”

  “You do know you can stop this whenever you want. All you’ve got to do is take control. No one is forcing you to do this.”

  “She is a Russo.”

  “From what my sources tell me, Milah was never a Russo. Not in spirit, but by blood, that was all.”

  Damon had heard enough. “Call me when you know more.” He ended the conversation and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Exhaustion swept over him as he thought about the coming few months.

  He needed everything to fall into place before he ended Antonio Russo, and he couldn’t wait to be the man to finally kill him. Then his family would be able to rest in peace. There would be no more retaliation.

  Getting to his feet, he left his office and made his way toward his bedroom. He’d already asked for James to collect Milah for him.

  He wasn’t in the mood for much discussion, but he liked looking at her pretty face.

  After stripping out of his clothes, he tossed them into the laundry basket, not caring that he’d only worn them for a short time. He stepped beneath the shower’s spray of cold water, not allowing his mind to drift or focus on anything but the present.

  Antonio Russo had someone here, watching and waiting. He should have known. Some men didn’t have the strength to resist temptation, but the question was, what? What could he bribe his men with? Irritation gnawed at him.

  He wanted to fucking kill Russo. The temptation was strong. It would be so easy. Just the swiftest swipe of his blade, and he’d be dead.

  Ended.

  So easy.

  So quick.

  But he needed to make sure no one else would rise up. Antonio hadn’t been a faithful husband. There were bastard Russos running around, which he would have to deal with if they posed a potential threat. Milah didn’t know she had a brother the same age as her, or a few that were younger. He would have to deal with them all.

  Chapter Eight

  Milah stared out her bedroom window for the hundredth time or what felt like that long. Glory had gone to ask Damon if it would be possible for her to go enjoy the last of the snow.

  In the past few days, she’d rarely seen Damon. He only called for her at night, and because of this, she’d been confined to her room. Even her meals were delivered to her bedroom. There was a guard on the door, stopping her from leaving.

  She didn’t have the means to escape Damon’s property, she knew that. It would be next to impossible.

  When a situation like this arose, she remembered her mother’s guard telling her to play it safe. To never draw suspicion but to always be ready to make a move. This place was highly guarded. Damon had spared no expense when it came to protection.

  This was a De Luca home.

  He lived here where his father had lived before, and his father before that. There was a great deal of history, and she hoped within time, he’d let her explore. There were so many rumors and lies when it came to their combined families. Her mother didn’t always know the truth and would often refuse to spread nasty gossip as she didn’t believe it. Her mother, at times, was too good for the Russo. Milah had often thought it.

  The marriage had been a sham. A farce. She couldn’t believe her maternal grandparents had even allowed it to happen. Their thirst for power must have driven them to it. Although the couple she had met as her grandparents hadn’t struck her as the kind who cared for more money. They were already extremely wealthy people.

  Milah was pulled out of her thoughts by her door opening. Glory walked inside.

  “Is that good news?”

  “Yes. Damon said you can walk the grounds, but you must have a guard with you at all times.”

  “Oh.” It wasn’t exactly the freedom she was hoping for.

  She looked past Glory’s shoulder to see James, the man she had shot. Guilt consumed her as he held up a pair of walking boots and a jacket.

  “Mr. De Luca doesn’t want you to freeze. Those were his exact words.”

  Milah chuckled and went toward him. She stopped when she got close enough. “I’m sorry.” The words just blurted out before she could stop them. She winced. “I … I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I? I didn’t want to kill you or anything.”

  James held his hand up, stopping her. “All is forgiven.”

  She forced a smile and then, she did the unthinkable, she hugged him.

  James tensed, and she heard Glory gasp.

  “You can’t do that,” James said, pushing her away.

  “I know. I know I’m a prisoner here, and I … I’ve been worried that you were hurt or sick. I’m sorry.”

  She picked up the boots and jacket and quickly pulled them on.

  “Show no weakness. They will only use it exploit you. These animals are good at doing things like that. Never let your guard down.”

  It was hard to see these people as animals. They were human.

  This feud with the De Lucas was tiring. She didn’t know if she was going to be able to keep it up.

  After wrapping the jacket around her arms, she tightened it up, and then looked at Glory and James.

  “Please, tell me you’re coming with me,” she said, looking at Glory.

  She knew without a doubt Glory worked for De Luca. Glory would have to report everything to him. Not a moment of her life was safe, but she liked to pretend just for a short time she had someone on her side.

  “Glory will be joining us,” James said. “Damon has already given me permission to escort you two ladies outside.”