“Bought and sold.”
“No. I don’t believe it.”
Glory grabbed her jacket and changed her shoes for boots. All of the maids working in Damon’s house wore the same clothes. Their hair was also the same, pulled back into a ponytail.
To Milah, it seemed rather old fashioned to have maids or servants, but she knew her father was also of the same mind.
Aghast, she covered her mouth and felt even more like a fool. The people working for her father didn’t have a choice. At least not the women. The soldiers were men who trained to fight to kill, to work for the Russo. The women were captured.
How could she not have realized this?
If De Luca didn’t send the women to the brothels, then he kept them to work for him. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Glory. The woman was so sweet and kind, and she didn’t … no woman, no person, deserved to be a slave.
Sickened, she stepped back, about to go and confront De Luca with this atrocity.
“Before you go and attempt to save Glory, you should know that she is in fact happy here,” James said.
Milah spun toward the guard. “Is that what you tell yourself? She has no life but to serve that … him?” She didn’t want to cause any hatred between herself and James. Insulting Damon might not be the best way to go about it.
Anger rushed through her entire body.
“It’s what I know. I’m not saying every single woman here is happy with the life she leads, but Glory’s past is not the same as anyone else’s. For the first time in her life, she is safe. She is cared for. Damon doesn’t allow any harm to come to the women who serve in this household, or indeed who work for him.”
Milah threw back her head and laughed. “This is ludicrous. You’re talking absolute crap.”
“No, you are acting like a foolish girl. This is the way the world works. Regardless of if you were born into it or not, this is what it takes to survive!”
They stopped talking in their whispered tones as Glory came toward them.
Milah wanted to protect her. She took hold of the woman’s hand, and together, they left her room and made their way out into the cold.
James stood close beside them. The paths were still gritted so neither of them fell as they made their way across the ground toward the gardens.
“Do you like the snow?” Milah asked.
“Very much so. It is always beautiful when the snow falls.”
She had so many questions to ask Glory, but she didn’t want to make the other woman uncomfortable, and she feared she would.
“So, er, how are you?” Milah asked.
“I’m very good, Miss Russo. You?”
“Please, call me Milah. Calling me Miss reminds me of my mother, but you know with the M-R-S, not the other one.” She groaned. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Do you mind me saying you’re very different than what I imagined?” Glory said.
“No, I don’t mind. I didn’t know you knew about me.”
“Everyone knows of the Russo’s daughter. You’re a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t feel beautiful. She took a deep breath. “So I’m not what you imagined?”
“No.”
Milah glanced toward Glory. “Is that a good thing?”
Glory smiled. “It is a very good thing. Antonio Russo does not have a good reputation and so, I imagined someone cold and cruel, and spoiled. Before you arrived, many of us were worried that you would … hurt us.”
“And I did so anyway.” Shame flooded her.
“No, not in the way you think.” Glory gave her hand a squeeze. They were still holding each other’s as they walked across the grounds. “We thought you would be cruel, possibly even attack us, and beat us, just for fun. Lie about us. There were a lot of rumors.”
“I guess it’s why the kitchen staff took great pleasure in serving me disgusting food, yes?”
“I didn’t know about that, Milah. I would have gotten it stopped.”
“There is only so much you can do. I know that.” She sighed. The incident was over, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty for the men and women who were hurt. “Do you know when the chef will return?”
Glory turned her head away, and James cleared his throat.
“The chef will not be returning, so you don’t need to worry.”
Milah stopped. “What?”