Mistress to a Monster

“You know, you’re turning this into quite the proposal,” she said.

“You’ll remember this day for many to come.” He stroked the back of her neck. “I’m not taking anything away from you, Milah. I’m trying to offer you my world. All you’ve got to do is be willing to take a chance with it.” He pressed his face against her neck. “Because I’m willing to dive all in. No turning back. You and me.”

She was still tight within his arms, and he didn’t know if he’d won her over. This wasn’t a speech he’d practiced. This had come straight from his heart, and he meant every single word.

“You’re not going to hurt me?” she asked.

“Never.”

“If you do want someone else, you’ll tell me?”

“It’s not going to happen. I will be a good husband to you, Milah. A good husband and a damn fine father.”

Milah nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She nibbled on her lip, and he reached into his jacket pocket, taking the engagement ring out of the box. “That’s massive.”

“You can change it if you want. My dad gave this to my mother on their engagement. With how their marriage turned out, I think it might be a good luck charm.”

Milah smiled.

The ring fit perfectly as if it had been made for her.

He hadn’t done any adjustments, nor had he changed the ring for Milah.

Pulling her against him, he pressed a kiss to her lips, smiling at her. She finally had his ring. Now, he needed to get her down the aisle.

“Get down!” his man suddenly yelled.

Gunfire rained down, and Damon pulled Milah into his arms, pushing her to the ground.

“Russo whore!”

Damon looked up ahead as his men fired at the car that had been intent on killing Milah.

Getting to his feet, he pulled out his gun and fired, taking out one of the tires as he did so.

They would insult his woman.

How fucking dare they?

Rage made his hands shake. This was not the proposal he wanted to remember.

“Sir, there’s blood.”

He turned to see one of his men had gone to his knee beside Milah.

Blood coated the pavement against her chest on her right side.

“She got hit,” his guard said.

“You two, chase that fucking car. I want the men responsible.” He lifted Milah into his arms. “Call the doctor, tell him I’m about to make a house call.”

“Milah, talk to me,” he said.

“They were trying to kill me.” Her voice sounded a little faint.

“Fuck, the baby. Talk to me, Milah. Don’t fade away. I’ve got you. Please, come on. I’m here.” He carried her across the street, going back to the restaurant where his car was already waiting.

He eased her into the backseat, following in behind her and holding her close.

Her eyes were closed, and panic hit him hard. “Milah, fucking talk to me, baby. Don’t you go to sleep. There is no time to sleep. Not now. Not now.”

She had to stay awake. Nothing could happen to her.

Not now.

Not … fucking ever. He wouldn’t allow it.

Milah couldn’t die. There was no way he could live without her.