Unholy Union by Natasha Knight

Author:Natasha Knight [Knight, Natasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Natasha Knight

13

Damian

I stare at him. I don’t spare a glance for Johnny who will do my father’s bidding without question. I think something’s wrong with him anyway. Has been since he was a kid. Maybe that’s why my father took him and groomed him. He’s stupid enough to do as he’s told without question. I can’t imagine it was guilt he felt over the death of Johnny’s father. A concept like guilt is foreign to men like Benedict Di Santo.

“Well, now that you’re here,” I say, gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle and moving toward the bar to get a glass. “I’ll pour you a drink.” I’d much rather smash the bottle over his head but it’d be a waste of good whiskey.

He watches Cristina. He’s only taken his eyes off her for an instant since he entered.

I don’t look at her. I won’t give anything away.

Pouring a whiskey for my father and refreshing mine because I’m going to need it, I hand one to him, cross into the living room, and have a seat on the couch. My father is now situated between me and Cristina, who is still safely behind the dining table. Although is anyone safe when it comes to him?

I look at her now and what I see in her eyes is terror.

Did she see him that night in her father’s study? I stepped out into the hallway quickly, blocking her view as they wrapped the noose around her father’s neck. But maybe she caught a glimpse of the old man in the wheelchair.

“Stand up,” my father demands of her.

I sip my whiskey, my grip so hard I’m surprised the crystal doesn’t shatter in my hand.

Cristina’s gaze searches for mine which I find curious. Maybe it was my warning about the other monster in this house.

“I said get up,” my father repeats, not even giving her a chance to obey before he summons his goon. “Johnny!” It’s a bark, and Johnny jumps like the dog he is.

“Cristina,” I say from my seat. “Up.”

She swallows. I see it from here. See how her hands tremble as she sets them on the table to support herself. I almost feel sorry for her right now, but she needs to move. Now.

I hear the legs of the chair scrape the stone floor and watch as her expression changes. Her face reddens, eyes darkening to a deep indigo.

She stands, too afraid to disobey.

“Come here where I can see you,” my father demands.

She shifts her gaze to me, and I see the little girl again. But this Cristina is more vulnerable than that little girl was.

“Is she hard of hearing?” my father asks me.

“It must be your charming manner,” I tell him, finishing my whiskey and going to her. I don’t want Johnny’s hands anywhere on her. I will kill him before I allow that.

“Cristina,” I say. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and she shifts her gaze to mine, not resisting my hold on her. The opposite. Almost melting into it.

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