Mistress to a Monster

“Does it matter? He died at your hands, and I can’t bring him back. I’d like to go to a pharmacy.” She got to her feet but felt a sudden wave of sickness wash over her. Damon was on his feet, and if he hadn’t been there, she would’ve fallen.

“No pharmacy. I’m going to call a doctor.”

“Normal people go to the pharmacy. They have perfectly capable tests.”

“We’re not normal people.”

“No, you’re not a normal person. You’re a De Luca, and me, I’m no one.”

“You’re Milah Russo.”

“No, I’ve never been a Russo, and I never will be one.”

Damon lifted her in his arms and carried her back up to his bedroom. At that moment, she didn’t want to be in his room. “Take me to my room.”

“No.”

Glory was there within minutes.

“Call the doctor,” he said.

Glory left without a fight.

Damon lowered her to the bed, and she tried to pull away from him. “I’m fine. Leave me alone. I don’t want to be here.”

“You can cry.”

“I’m not going to cry.”

“When my father died, I locked myself in his office with a bottle of whiskey. I will allow you to do that but only when we have the results. Until then, cry.”

“I’m not going to cry.”

“You can fall,” he said.

She pressed her lips together, feeling her eyes flood with tears, and they made no sense at all.

She hated her father. There was no love lost between them. They meant nothing to one another, and yet, the tears fell.

One by one, they spilled down her cheeks, and she hated them as well as herself.

“You won’t catch me. Not ever.”

“I will always catch you. Make no mistake about it, Milah. I will always be on your side.” He stroked her cheek, and she couldn’t believe he lied to her.

“I’m a Russo.”

“I thought you once told me you were a Flynn.”

Milah covered her face with her hands, and even as she hated doing so, she sobbed. She sobbed for the man she called father, and the mother she missed so much.

What did she do now?

Damon had finally achieved what he set out to do, and she didn’t know what the hell to do now. Her life had no meaning. She had focused for so long on escaping, but now that she might be pregnant, what did it all mean?

The Russo ring didn’t belong to her. That was her father’s, and now it would be either her half-brother’s, one of the guys her father had sired.

Damon stroked her hair.

They were never going to work. Never.

What kind of parents would they be?

****

Milah was pregnant. The doctor confirmed it after a blood test. Damon had no doubt she was pregnant since Glory had reported to him that Milah had morning sickness. Sitting in his office, he stared at the generous shot of whiskey he’d poured himself.

The color was dark, and he’d waited to drink this to celebrate his victory. Russo was gone. His entire empire had fallen, and now Milah was pregnant.

His plan hadn’t worked exactly as he hoped because Antonio had been an unpredictable player.

Now he owned all of the Russo territory and had their nightclubs, everything they had once owned. Antonio Russo had signed everything over to him.

Apart from the ring. He’d requested it be given to Milah. Shocking, considering the bastard had sold his daughter for his own personal ends.

Damon stared down at the ring.

Milah didn’t want it.

Every time he tried to give it to her, she left it abandoned.

The Russo ring was a very important piece of their heritage. It normally went to the firstborn son.

Damon paused and stared at the ring. He was aware of the bastards Antonio had sired, but Antonio hadn’t once acknowledged any of those children. Only Milah. It was the one part of tradition Antonio had kept.

Tapping his fingers on the glass, Damon picked up the ring and turned it over. This was done on purpose.

Any child he had with Milah wouldn’t ever be a true De Luca. Damon gritted his teeth. He’d told Antonio in those final minutes that he had knocked Milah up, and Russo had laughed.

“Doesn’t mean you’re ever going to be a good father to it. After all, it will forever be a Russo!”

Those had been his parting words.