Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
No one was around. He’d be able to kill her easily.
She had done the unthinkable and let down her guard. She should have known there was nowhere in this world where she would be safe.
Her heart raced, but she didn’t move. She didn’t even flinch as those arms went to her waist, as if he had a right to touch her, which he did not.
No one was here to hear her pleas.
“You are making a big mistake,” she said.
He chuckled. “Am I? Or is your father becoming too reckless with your safety?”
Her hands clenched into fists. No one insulted her father or her family.
The desire to hurt him was strong, but she kept herself in check, not wanting to give away too much.
Damon pressed his face against her neck. “You smell good.”
What was his end game?
What did he want?
“You know, I could steal you away right now. None of your pictures do your beauty justice.”
She had heard enough. Slamming her elbow into his ribs, she stomped her foot down on his and spun around to face him, landing a blow to his face.
Her attack caught him off guard, but as she went to slap him, he captured her wrist. His grip was firm, making her cry out from the sudden jolt of pain. “Let go of me!”
“You’ve got some fight in you. I like that. It will be so much more fun to watch you beneath me.”
“You’ve got no chance in hell.” She would fight him no matter what. “There is no way a Russo would ever be with a De Luca. You are filth and the worst plague to walk this fucking earth.”
“Fighting words.”
“I can do more than that.” She was ready to kill him. He might not have been directly responsible for killing her mother, but he was a De Luca. They were all the same.
“Mark my words, Milah. You will be mine.”
“I’d rather die.”
“We will see.”
Chapter One
Three years later
Milah spun around in a circle, taking in the grandeur of her surroundings. Her shirt was torn, exposing one shoulder along with her bra strap. Her hair had been pulled from the confines of her bun. Her jeans were still intact, but now there were tear marks where she’d been roughly kidnapped.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the sudden fear. There was no reason to be irrational. She didn’t like the look of the house. It already screamed money. Being taken someplace that looked wealthy wasn’t a good sign as far as she was concerned.
Gripping the back of her neck, she tried not to think too hard. This wasn’t good. None of this was.
Her guards hadn’t put up any fight either. She hadn’t been able to find a means of escape from the Russo empire in the past three years. Every time she tried to find one possible avenue, her father thwarted it.
Either by stopping her from going away to college, or constantly having guards at her side. Her mother had warned her more than once that if her father saw her as a feasible income, or a means to get what he wanted, he’d use her.
Had that time come?
Had his enemies figured out who she was?
Her coming-of-age party had been a huge problem. Up until that point, no one knew who she was, or what she meant to Russo. It was like she didn’t exist, but since then, all had known what she looked like and now there was no getting away from it.
There was a bed against the far wall, looking as imposing as ever. There was no way she was going to sit on it.
She stayed perfectly still and kept her gaze on the door, which was locked. That was the first thing she tried, to see if there was any chance of escape.
There wasn’t.
Even trying to flee from the window was useless. It was far too high, and the windows were locked. The only way she’d be able to escape through them was if she had a rock or something to break the glass. That would only alert her captors to her intention of escaping.
No matter where she looked, there was nothing she could do.
Absolutely nothing.
The large, imposing bed was the only piece of furniture in the room. Only one door. There wasn’t even a closet or any drawers. Nothing. She’d already tried to look under the bed, and nothing was there.
This was impossible.
She wasn’t going to beg or cause a scene. A Russo never did any such thing. She was highly embarrassed that even after all of her training, she hadn’t been able to stop the men from taking her.
Milah had to wonder if her mother would be ashamed if she could see her now. She shook her head, refusing to think of that. She couldn’t.
Right now, all she could do was attempt to survive.