Page 20 of The Devil Can Be Kind

I huffed, lifting my legs out of the pool and rose to my feet. I marched over to the lounger to collect my things, anger simmering to a boil when I felt his judgmental glare brush against my skin.

Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to restrain my searing temper, my smart mouth opened before any sense of self-preservation could kick in, “Whatever, Marco. Fuck you.”

I held my breath and prayed that the ground would swallow me up and take me straight to hell, or perhaps a plane would fall out of the sky and hit the yard, but it was too late. The words were out of my idiotic—apparentlysuicidal—mouth.

Moron.

One second. Two sec?—

His hand latched onto the back of my neck, yanking me around to face him viciously. The Don’s furious face was suddenly only inches from my own. His depthless coal eyes piercing me to my soul.

I didn’t dare meet them, dropping my gaze to his prominent and closely shaved—but stupid, definitelystupid—jawline.

“What was that?”

His words were as lethal as a razor and in that moment, I got a flavor of what it would feel like to die by this man’s hand. It felt like all-consuming power and smelled like rich spice.

“Speak to me with disrespect again and I’ll?—"

“Kill me?” I interrupted.

I knew that he couldn’t. That he needed me alive in order to broker this deal with my family and to avoid an all-out war…and if Jesse had been right, too…then that meant the hot-headed Don before me didn’t have any real intention of hurting me. It was an empty threat…and judging by the muscle ticking in his jaw, my guess was right, and he knew it.

“There are fates worse than death, Ada.”

Ada?

My heart stuttered at the word, but I quickly recovered. I couldn’t allow myself to analyzethatright now. Not with his firm hand still wrapped around my throat and his threat lingering in my ears.

“Yes, there are,” I agreed. “But you wouldn’t do that to me would you, Marco?” I cooed, much like a lover would.

I did it to provoke him, to set him off or make him uncomfortable, but once again, his expression remained unaffected and cold.

And yet… hidden away in those opaque irises swirled something. Exactlywhatthat something was though, I didn’t know.

I wasn’t sure who was winning this game, but I felt an odd sense of satisfaction seep into my blood as his hand dropped from my neck, falling to his side.

It was made all the sweeter when I felt his gaze lingering on me as I pulled away and walked the path back toward the house.

I was getting under his skin whether he liked it or not.

Trouble was, he was also getting beneath mine.

After my encounterwith Don La Torre at the pool, I stayed in my room like he had asked. Thankfully, Lucia brought up a delicious, toasted ciabatta roll to keep me from starving, and I washed it down with some fresh lemonade. I took a bath shortly after, pampering myself with some lotions I found in a cupboard and stuck on the television while I lounged on my bed.

Three episodes into a new true crime documentary, Jesse came barging into the room and collapsed unceremoniously beside me.

I laughed at the stupid expression he wore. “Meeting over?”

“Over,” He confirmed. “What the fuck are you watching?”

“It’s a true crime documentary. You should really try watching things other than porn sometimes, Jesse,” I teased.

“Na, I’m good.” He grinned. “Boss wants to see you in his study.” He added, picking up the remote and flicking off the show.

I sighed.

Guess I’ll be going now then.

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