Page 120 of The Devil Can Be Kind

“Why did you leave early tonight?” His voice, a deep velvet whisper against my ear broke the gentle thrumming of my heartbeat.

“I was tired,” I lied.

It wasn’t the real reason I had to leave the restaurant, but I couldn’t tell him the truth.

I couldn’t tell him about the panic attack or that his hands on Fanelli’s throat had reminded me of how another man’s hands once gripped my own. I couldn’t tell him that what I saw tonight triggered memories of what had happened to me. Memories that I had tried to bury for the last seven years.

Sharp, cold tendrils of anxiety crept into my chest as my thoughts strayed dangerously close to the subject I wanted so desperately to avoid.

He stilled. I froze.

Shit. Could he know?

“Were you afraid?” His voice was stern despite its gentleness.

I hesitated “I wasn’t afraid of what I saw.” I answered, side stepping the real cause of my fear. “I just wanted to come home.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to my neck. It eased the tension coursing through me, steadying my heart rate.

“So, you’re still not afraid of me?” I could detect a trace of humor seeping into his serious words.

“You are many things, Don La Torre, but scary isn’t one of them.” I lied tauntingly.

In actuality, the Don beside medidhave his moments. But his ego was big enough without me telling him that.

“I should be insulted,” he said, contrite.

“But you’re not, are you?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit.”

I chuckled at his tone.

He turned me on my back to face him. His dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight streaming through the open windows, casting shadows across the handsome features I now found myself looking for in every room. His hand came to rest on the side of my face, tracing a line from my cheekbone to my chin.

“We have to leave tomorrow.” Marco’s eyes told me he wasn’t sure how I would take the news.

“For Chicago?” He nodded and I smiled gently.

I had been missing the familiar stone walls of the mansion. Strangely, it had started to feel like home.

He let out a sigh, “Fanelli is dealt with, but the mess he left behind needs fixing and I can’t do that from Sicily.”

I knew better than to ask for the details and responded simply with “Okay.”

He moved to lay back on the pillows and pulled me against him, tucking me under his arm while my head rested against his chest.

In the comfort of his embrace, it was hard to believe that he was the same man I had seen earlier. That he was the ruthless Don La Torre that had families on either side of the globe trembling in fear.

Another side of him came out around me. A playful, boyish yet charming side. A side that very few got to see.

But it would be naïve to think that it made him less dangerous.A sinister internal voice was quick to remind me.

“Marco?” I asked gently, unsure whether he was still awake and not wanting to rouse him if he wasn’t.

“Ada?” Came his sardonic response.

I hesitated, suddenly fearful of asking him the question burning on my lips.

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