Page 143 of The Devil Can Be Kind

In the days following the meeting with my family, a new wave of conflicts had begun in New York and some of Marco’s other territories. The cartel had been the instigators of some of them, and my father’s warnings were starting to ring true.

It appeared that the La Torre’s had another enemy poised on the horizon, and I couldn’t help feeling entirely responsible for it.

The niggling feeling of dread had since saturated my bones with fear and tirelessly kept me up at night.

Thatand the fact that in two weeks, I was set to become Mrs. Adalyn La Torre.

Marco had insisted we get married as soon as possible given the escalating conflict at our door, and I had no qualms in agreeing to it. I loved the man with everything I had and a small part of me hoped that once Ricardo knew we were married, he would disappear from our lives forever.

It turns out that two weeks was not a huge amount of time to plan a wedding for over three hundred people in Sicily. Though…by La Torre standards that was still considered asmallwedding, according to Eliyana.

I spent most days on a long-distance call to Marco’s mother arranging it all. She was so ecstatic about the wedding that her enthusiasm was contagious, lifting the heaviness that had settled within me a little.

She had hired numerous wedding planners to take care of the preparations on their side of the Atlantic, leaving me with the less stressful role of picking my favorite colors and design elements I wanted to include.

Marco even involved himself in the preparations more than I had expected. He chose the evening entertainment, sorted suits for the men and attended the wedding cake tasting session the planners had arranged.

There was something oddly sexual about seeing a lethal, ruthless man tasting different flavored frosting with a handgun tucked into his trousers.

My mouth had watered, and itwasn’tfrom the decadent cakes before me.

“Everyone out!” He had shouted at the staff in the kitchen. “I need to have a word with my future wife.”

They had all scuttled like bugs under a log. Exiting the room in seconds. The doors shutting ominously behind them.

“You’ve been looking at me like you want to fuck me for over an hour,” he’d said sternly, unbuckling his trousers and my eyes tracked the movement viciously. “That’s really not appropriate with a room full of staff, is it?”

“No, it isn’t Don La Torre,” I responded submissively, moistening my lips as my stomach pooled with arousal.

“Now,” He started, freeing his erection from his trousers. “Bend over so I can lick frosting off your ass as I punish you.”

Then he did as he said, delivering my punishment swiftly and deliciously.

“This had better be fucking good.”I sighed and then shrieked as I stumbled forward.

Marco’s hand caught my arm, steadying me as I tentatively put one foot in front of the other.

I could feel the cold spring breeze against my face and knew we were somewhere outside, but where exactly I wasn’t sure. A blindfold obscured my view.

“Watch it, Ada.” He muttered before dropping his hold on the material over my eyes.

My mouth fell agape, and I gasped.

“What the fuck is that?”

A dark purple-mirrored paint-job reflected my stunned expression back to me.

“A car.” Marco offered sarcastically.

But it wasn’t justanycar—it was a Lamborghini Aventador.

I balked as I took in the vehicle, parked pride of place on the driveway.

I took a step toward it, feeling that somehow the car was familiar…then it dawned on me.

I turned to him questioningly. “This is exactly like the car at the garage. The one I showed you on the phone.” I accused. My mind immediately cast back to the luxury vehicle I’d spotted at the car dealership and had shown him on a video call. This car lookedexactly likethe one I had jokingly asked him to buy me.

“Itisthe car you asked me buy you,” he chuckled, understanding my frown of confusion and answering my unspoken question.

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