Mistress to a Monster

Chapter Ten

“There is no way I would ever love a Russo.”

Milah tried to ignore the sharp pain that pierced her chest. It wasn’t like she cared what Damon De Luca thought anyway. She didn’t love him, nor did she crave any affection from him.

He was a monster. No, he was worse than any monster. He was a fucking De Luca.

As if she would ever want him either.

Staring out the window, she refused to look at him. Silence fell in the car. James and the strange man who’d been close with Damon when she arrived downstairs to hear his confession were in front once again. Damon was on his cell phone.

She missed Glory. She missed the puppies. Above it all, she missed her mother.

She was all alone right now. No one gave a shit about her. Not her father. Certainly not Glory or James. Even though she rescued the puppies, if they found loving homes, they would soon forget about her.

Her throat felt tight.

A Russo. That was her. A person to be hated. Unloved.

Sinking her nails into her palm, she counted to ten and tried to stop the hit of tears that was so fucking close. She’d never been the kind of person to have a pity party. This was life. Her mother had told her that she wished for a different kind of life for her daughter, but it was never going to come.

All she could hope for was to prepare her daughter to fight for herself. Her father was responsible for killing those people and the men he’d hired to do it.

So much death. So much bloodshed and all because of two families who were exactly the same but never saw eye to eye. They were intent on destroying each other. Damon would kill her. Of that, she had no doubt.

He was going to use her first, but for what? What did he hope to achieve?

The car came to a stop, and she glanced out the window and gasped. They were at one of her father’s nightclubs. She recognized it because he’d named it after her, Milah’s.

The glowing blue light looked a little garish, but it was there, shining brightly for all to see. She saw the queue wanting to get inside.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“I think it is time we had some fun, don’t you? You’ve been cooped up in my house for way too long.”

This was a ploy. What was he plotting?

Damon climbed out of the car, and all Milah wanted to do was run. This wasn’t good. Her father had attacked his nightclub, and yet they were here. Why? What good would it do?

He held his hand out to her, and Milah had no choice but to place her hand within his as he helped her out of the car.

She glanced down at the line of people before turning her attention to the men guarding the entrance. The looks they sent her way were full of hatred. As if she had any choice in her date.

Her father had handed her over to the enemy to save his own skin. There was no love here. No betrayal, and yet as she entered the nightclub and felt the music piercing the walls, almost vibrating in the loudness of it, she felt herself shaking.

Damon was doing this on purpose. Showing her father’s men who he owned.

He held her hand and led her straight to the bar.

She didn’t say anything, not even asking for a drink she’d actually enjoy. Damon ordered for her, a cocktail that sounded utterly ridiculous. She didn’t drink. Not cocktails, not wine, not champagne. She never got the taste for it.

Her mother had always told her to sip water and tea, but never alcohol. She had to constantly keep her wits about her.

The barman placed their drinks in front of them. Damon picked it up, sniffed it, and chuckled. “Your father doesn’t even stock decent whiskey,” he said.

“Can we leave?” she asked.

“Why? I thought you’d like to be here. Enjoying the nightlife.”

Milah glared at him. “What are you hoping to achieve right now?”

“In all honesty, I want to dance.” He put the drink down without taking a sip. Milah didn’t even bother glancing at her drink. She wouldn’t enjoy it anyway.

He grabbed her arm, and without so much as an invite, he dragged her onto the dance floor. His hands immediately went to her waist, drawing her indecently close to him. There were couples that were closer still, nearly crawling into each other’s flesh, but this, after him being between her thighs, it seemed a lot more intimate.

The music was so loud she couldn’t hear herself think.

She’d never been to her father’s nightclub before, and this one, it was … disappointing. How could he even name this place after his own daughter?

Damon nudged his leg between her thighs, his hand going to her ass, and the other reached up to sink into her hair. He pulled her even closer. His lips brushed against her ear. “Have fun.”

“Why? You’re not here to have fun,” she said.

“You’re right. I’m here to show off his sexy-as-fuck daughter who belongs to me. He thinks he can destroy me, Milah. Take a look around, I will bring this place and your father to his knees.”

She clenched her hands into fists, wanting to pummel his chest. With how close they were, no one would see her anger.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked.

“Because I can, and because his men need to see how far he has fallen.”

Milah frowned.

Damon could have ended her father a few weeks ago. He had him right where he wanted him. His life had literally been in Damon’s hands, but why hadn’t he? They were sworn enemies.

She pulled back, and with Damon’s grasp on her, she couldn’t fight him as he tilted her head back. Then he slammed his lips down on hers.

The kiss took her by surprise.