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)
Glory entered his office. Her gaze was on the floor, not daring to look up.
He’d looked into her background and learned she’d been brought from the streets. A runaway with no will to live. She hadn’t been addicted to drugs, but he’d also sensed an air of innocence around her. She might have fetched a pretty price, but sending her to the brothels had been out of the question.
“What do you have to report to me?” he asked.
For the most part, Glory’s job hadn’t been enlightening. Milah didn’t give anything away. She talked about the day. The weather. Sometimes cooking. Since he’d given her permission to use the kitchen, she rarely used it.
At the thought of the kitchen, he had a sudden desire to eat, and he glanced toward the time to see it was getting close to dinner. He was starving. Walking out in the snow was hungry work. Especially when he had such an energetic guest occupying his thoughts.
“Milah wants me to attempt to get a message to her father,” Glory said.
This was news. “What kind of message, and look at me when you’re talking. I have no desire to see your fucking head.”
She jerked her head up and he saw the fear, but he didn’t care. People were meant to fear him.
“She wants to know how long she is meant to stay here. She … wants to know the full details, and also what exactly he agreed to.”
Damon nodded. “Okay.”
“What do I do?” she asked.
“Find out why she wants to know.”
“I … I did. She wants to know what is expected of her.” Glory pressed her lips together and then continued. “She is … scared. She told me that she doesn’t know what to expect. Every time she sees you, she expects you to kill her. She said that she knows everyone here hates her and would love for any excuse to kill her. They all hate a Russo, but then she said, as if she didn’t understand why… I … I…”
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“I think she is … lonely and she’s afraid. She doesn’t know what to do. How to act. I get the sense that she has always known how to deal with things back at home. I don’t think she always had an easy life.”
And he had yet to hear anything from Genius.
Milah had a sharp tongue on her. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but he was curious. She was used to knowing ahead of time how to react. How to be, and why? Was it because of her father?
Antonio Russo would never win father of the year, but then most of them here would never win it either.
“Thank you,” he said. “You can go.”
“What do I tell her?” Glory asked.
“Give it three days. Tell her you are doing your best, and I will give you a response.”
Glory nodded and then left his office.
One way or another, he needed to figure Milah out.
A guard came to his door and informed him dinner had been served. When he arrived at the dining room, Milah was already there, sitting in the same chair she’d been in the past few nights.
He sat down as the chef brought out their food. This was a new occurrence, the chef paying such close attention. He doubted the man enjoyed his food being left the other day, but it simply hadn’t been as good as Milah’s.
Nodding at the man, he watched as his food was placed in front of him. Steak with roasted vegetables, and a thick herb sauce. One of his favorite meals. It was a meal his mother had made him many times.
He smiled.
Glancing toward Milah, he saw her hands clench, and then she reached for the knife and fork. She rarely finished any of the food that was brought her way. He watched her now as she took the tiniest slice of steak and put it in her mouth.
Milah tensed up, and he noticed she closed her eyes, and her lips seemed to go into a stern line.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Do you not like the food?” He took a bite of his steak.
“It is delicious.” She took another taste and then another.
Figuring she was struggling with the enjoyment of the day, Damon enjoyed his meal, noticing Milah didn’t finish hers.
“You need to eat,” he said.
“I’m not hungry.” She put her napkin down.
He snapped his fingers and dessert was brought out. Damon noticed her shoulders seemed to slump, and he frowned. What the fuck was going on?
When Milah’s dessert was put in front of her, she lifted her spoon and hesitated in scooping out some of the chocolate mousse.
“Enough,” Damon said. He lifted his spoon and leaned over.
“Sir, your own dessert,” the chef said.
Damon took a spoonful and placed it at his lips. Milah’s gaze was wide and as he tasted it, he had no choice but to grab his napkin and spit it out.