Page 38 of The Devil Can Be Kind

Me: On way back now. Wont b long.

Me: Nothing bad happened while I was out, did it?

I couldn’t help but type the last message. Anxiety starting to eat away at my good mood.

Jesse: No

Jesse: Wait why?

Relief quickly stopped my pessimism in its tracks.

Me: No reason

Forty minutes later the car rolled to a stop outside the front of the familiar house. In the daylight, the perfectly maintained structure bore more resemblance to a modern castle than it did a mansion, what with the sandy stone walls, sizable ornate windows, and decorative fountain out front. There were definitely worse houses to call home.

Once everything had been toted up to my room, I began unpacking and sorting through the various items. I carefully paired some of the new outfit combinations together and stored them away with a little too much enthusiasm.

It helped keep the permanent sense of abandonment at bay when my hands were busy.

There was a gentle knock on the door behind me. “You have ten minutes, Bandit.”

“Thank you.” I smiled. “Is he going to be mad?”

Jesse just laughed, knowing immediately what I was referring to.

In some sick, twisted way, I really hoped he would be. I wanted to get under Marco’s skin and make him realize what he’d been asking for when he’d said I didn’t suit ‘weak’or ‘simpering’. And if it pushed him into a decision about marrying me off quicker… Well, it was worth the risk.

“I think the Boss just wants you to have fun. That card he gave you is pretty much bottomless.”

“Bottomless?” He had to be joking.

“Pretty much. Now, you have eight minutes.” Jesse smirked and quickly left the way he’d come.

I hurriedly straightened my clothes, spritzed some of my perfume and dabbed on some more powder under my eyes before I left for the dining room. With Jesse’s previous reassurances in the back of my head, I was actually looking forward to the meal tonight.

The room was dressed the same as the night before. Two places laid out at either end of the table, while four waiters were stationed attentively at the far sides of the room. As soon as I entered, one of them came forward to hold out my chair and another began pouring some wine.

It was an ostentatious display of wealth having so many staff complete such minor tasks, but then again, the La Torre’s didn’t seem like the kind of people to prefer the understated.

Marco arrived shortly after I got settled. Unusually, his short hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked somewhat exhausted as he took his seat opposite me. I watched as a waiter served him a rich amber liquor instead of wine.

A starter of deep fried mozzarella was served as soon as we’d settled, and unable to bare the uncomfortable silence for longerthan the five minutes that had already elapsed, I decided I would attempt a conversation.

“Rough day?” I asked without looking up from my food, trying to avoid the eyes I could feel like a caress against my skin the moment I spoke.

“Something like that.” His deep voice sounded surprisingly weary, and I glanced at him.

“Want to talk about it?” I asked.

“No.”

Silence descended again and I toyed with the salad on my plate.

“Well, I had a lovely day.” I remarked.

“I heard.”

He’d heard about my day, huh?His dark eyes finally met mine, but he didn’t look mad like I had expected.

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