Page 15 of The Devil Can Be Kind

“You’ll catch flies with your mouth open like that, Bandit.” I rolled my eyes at the nickname he had bestowed on me since my escape attempt but took a seat opposite the hulking man.

The table was covered in various fruits, yogurts, pancakes, cooked meats and pastries. There was something for even the pickiest of eaters. My mouth watered as I stacked a couple of pancakes on my plate and drizzled them with maple syrup.

“This is a bit much, isn’t it?” I asked, gesturing to the food.

“Boss didn’t know what breakfast you’d like so he ordered some of everything.” Jesse shrugged, as if enough food for eight people being served for just one wasn’t ridiculously wasteful.

“I normally have granola and yogurt for breakfast, but if I have a choice then I choose pancakes.” I forked a piece into my mouth and smiled at him.

“Gottcha.” He nodded, faking seriousness before gulping down some orange juice.

“Has there been any news?” I asked, knowing he would understand my meaning. I hid my gaze, trying hard not to look too interested in the answer.

Jesse just shrugged. “Not sure.”

My gut told me he knew more than he was letting on, but I didn’t push it. I was starting to warm up to Jesse after the last few days, and I really needed someone on my side.

I bit back my disappointment and changed the subject instead. “What’s on the agenda for today then?”

“Your schedule is wide open.” He flashed me a grin. “I,on the other hand, have some urgent errands to take care of today, so I’ll have to leave you to your own devices.”

A spark of hope lit in my chest.

Catching my expression, he quickly added, “But before you get any ideas…you arestillunder house arrest. There are harsher people around than me, Bandit; just remember that.”

The restof breakfast passed by in silence, and soon enough, I found myself in the confines of my room, aimless and looking for something to do.

Realizing I had yet to fully explore mytemporarywardrobe, I decided to spend a few hours reorganizing the many colorful rods to my taste and removing things I was certain I’d never wear. Once happy with my work, I moved on to explore different outfit options and hung them all separately for future use—not that I was particularly enthralled with the idea of spending a significant amount of time as a captive.

Lucia brought lunch to my room and after scarfing down the delicious caprese salad, I played around on the television, watched a few shows, and then snooped through the cabinets in the bathroom.

When the sun started drifting toward the horizon, I threw myself against the bed with a huff. Bored and irritated, I allowed my mind to drift.

It was now well over seventy-two hours I had been away from my family.Would they be looking for me? Did they know where I was?I hated not knowing.

Growing frustrated with the lack of news and being left alone for most of the day, I decided I wanted answers.

The halls were silent as I marched through them, retracing my steps to locate the Don’s study. After a couple of wrong-turns, I eventually located a door with two men stationed either side of it.

“Can I speak to Don La Torre? It’s important,” I directed to the taller and burlier one of the two.

They both appeared late thirties or early forties, judging by the fullness of one of their beards and frown lines marring the other’s tanned skin. One gave me a stoic once over, while the other knocked on the door and disappeared behind it. After waiting half a minute in tense silence with the bearded one, the other re-emerged from the room and resumed his post.

“Don La Torre is currently unavailable,” He said gruffly.

Excuse me?

“This is important,” I argued, knowing from the bored expression on his face that my words were futile.

When I didn’t get another response, I sighed in exasperation and stormed back upstairs to my room, furious.

Don La Torre not only had the audacity to kidnap me, but he was now set on totally ignoring my existence. I might be his hostage, but I had a right to know what was going on. It was my freedom at stake.

I paced about in frustration, trying to come up with a plan. What would someone with the upper hand do?

They wouldmakethe Don talk to them.

A wild grin contorted my face as an idea cemented itself in my head.

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