Mistress to a Monster

“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 blinded, 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.