Page 130 of The Devil Can Be Kind

His boyish smile flashed in response. “Always.”

Over the next few months,things settled into a new sense of normalcy and routine.

As time wore on, I had started to grow accustomed to the nuances of Marco’s personality and found myself seeing the boy within him more often than ever before. We ate together, slept together, watched TV together, and went out for date nights. We even celebrated Christmas together with his family in Sicily.

I was quickly becoming obsessed with him.Consumedby him.

Marco had sunk beneath my skin, and I had absolutely no intention or desire to get him out.

When I wasn’t with Marco, then the majority of my time was spent working at the casino, planning the fundraising ball Marco had approved or learning recipes with Lucia. Cooking had never been my strong suit, but I was adamant that it one day would be. Marco was nothing if not traditional and while I broke all other interpretations of the word, I wanted to prove to him that I couldat least play the part when I wanted to. That I could be what heneededas well as what hewanted.

For the most part, I played my part well. Dutifully dropping off my signature triple chocolate brownies every Sunday morning after he got back from church and organizing coffee when the meetings ran late into the evening.

Having said that—I wasn’t always the dutiful lover.

After all, where would be the fun in that?

In true Adalyn Rossi style, I would push his buttons every now and again just to keep him on his toes.

Acting provocatively in a skimpy bikini by the pool, while Marco and Jesse were having a meeting?No problem.Hoovering the carpet while he’s working late again?Don’t mind if I do.Stripping in the gym because he’s working up a sweat?Absolutely!

It was invigorating, exhilarating, and completely addictive. Risk had never felt so absolutely like reward.

And beyond anything else, I was happy.

But just like all good things—they come to an end eventually.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

ADALYN

The end of my delirious happiness came when six words left Marco’s lips late one Wednesday afternoon.

“Your father has requested a meeting.”

“What?” I asked, taking a seat in the armchair across from him. I was shocked and confused by the news.

Marco swirled the glass of amber liquid in his hand. The tension in his expression unmistakable as we sat together in the study.

“It’s unprecedented,” Marco muttered bringing my focus back to the room.

His jaw tightened, as if he were annoyed with himself that he hadn’t anticipated my father’s request.

“Why now?” Was all I could think to ask.

“He believes there is a way to resolve this war between our families.” Expecting my next question he added, “He didn’t say what.”

“And do you believe him?” I asked, skeptical.

My father never was one to change his mind once it had been made.

“I don’t know what to think.” Marco tossed his tumbler onto the desk and wracked his hands down his face. “The meeting is in two days and you’re coming with me.”

I nodded, having every intention of coming even if he hadn’t offered, “Where is it?”

“Las Vegas. The Venetian Prince.” Despite his unease, a vague smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

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