Mistress to a Monster

Milah looked at him with a frown. “Fine. You?”

He smiled. “Do you not think that our time together could go by a lot easier if we’re pleasant with each other?”

“Cut the crap, De Luca. You are not fooling me, and I doubt you’d fool any of your staff. You can’t stand me.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t care to know me,” she said. “All you see is a Russo. Everyone does.”

He folded his arms and looked at her.

Her hands were clenched at her sides, and he saw the slight tensing of her jaw. She didn’t like how people saw her.

Why?

She’d been a Russo all her life. Power and privilege had come to her without any effort.

“And you don’t think we can make the most of it.”

“What do you want from me?”

“How about the pleasure of your company?”

“You hurt my father in such a way that you got me out of a business deal. We’re never going to marry. You hold all the cards right now. You can do with me what you wish. I have no power, and yet, you’re … being nice.”

“Would you like me to be mean?” he asked, getting to his feet and advancing toward her.

Milah tried to stay strong and firm, but with him as her adversary, it was next to impossible. She finally stumbled back, trying to create some distance between them.

He liked that.

The wall stopped her from getting far, and he pressed his hands on either side of her head. She didn’t look afraid, but she assessed him, waiting for him to attack. She was going on the defensive, which he found intriguing.

“Who trained you?” he asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A lie.

Milah was keeping her ability to fight back a secret. It was a badly kept one, but he was happy to play along for the time being.

“I think it is best I go back to my room.” She didn’t make a move to leave, and he didn’t step back either.

He stared at her, watching, waiting, curious. Milah wasn’t a spoiled bitch.

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.