Her mother had warned her about him.
Damon De Luca. The most feared and oldest son of the empire. Their sworn enemies.
What was he doing at her party?
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.”