Page 1 of The Devil Can Be Kind

CHAPTER

ONE

ADALYN

Well thank fuck for that.

I sighed and threw my head back, letting the warm breeze wash over me. By now it was early evening, and the setting sun had begun to cool the blazing Nevada air. Off in the distance was the familiar chatter of Friday night crowds gathering on the infamous Las Vegas strip. The excitement was contagious, and I was more than a little excited to throw away the stresses of my day at Pretty Penny Loans and join in.

Tonight, my friends and I were going out on the town to celebrate Bonnie’s birthday. Through a connection, she had managed to get us into one of the most exclusive nightclubs in town—The Venetian Prince. The waiting list alone was over three months long, with private booths costing well into the thousands each. Bonnie, the bloody brilliant Bonnie, had not only managed to get us into this fortress of a club, but had also landed us a booth with VIP passes. We were practicallyguaranteedto be rubbing shoulders with the social elite and maybe even a few celebrities…if we were lucky.

I cannot wait!

I pulled out my phone and read through my texts from Bonnie and another friend, April, as I made my way to my car to the rear of the building. Pretty Penny Loans was one of my family’s many businesses and where I unfortunately worked Monday through Friday as part of my ‘identity’.

Let me explain what I mean by that exactly…

My name is Adalyn Mannino, but I go by Adalyn Parker these days. My family is one of the wealthiest in the continental US with an assortment of bars, restaurants, casinos and loan companies to its name, as well as a great deal more…illegitimatebusiness ventures, too. My father is none other than Alberto Mannino, or as he is better known, Don Mannino.He is the head of our ratherlargefamily and has a reputation for ruthlessness. No one in our family so much as breathes without his say so. And while it was true I was his only child, it was rare that details of the familybusinesswere ever shared with me. My primary purpose was to be amiable and look pretty as my Mamma had once insisted. But from the little I did know… I knew that we weren’t nice people.

My new identity came about after one of my family’s many ‘deals’ went horribly wrong seven years ago. Forcing us out from our beautiful white mansion in Las Vegas and into the dregs of upper middle-class suburbia, where we were bestowed the name ‘Parker’.

Thus, ‘Adalyn Parker’ was born.

A twenty-five-year-old ex-cheerleader who works full-time as a receptionist in Las Vegas and still lives with her insufferable parents.Yawn.

For the most part, I was pretty committed to my new ‘normal’ identity, even going so far as having my raven hairdyed shit-bright blonde once every other week. Gone were my expensive designer clothes, Tiffany necklaces andah…my beautiful Chanel handbags.It was thoroughly depressing, and my patience was wearing thin after all these years… Which is exactly why I was going out partying tomorrow night.Zero fucks given.

I approached my car and buckled myself in, fiddling with the control panel until my music started blaring obnoxiously through the speakers. My car was perhaps the only indication left of my former life and was definitely not the kind of car a receptionist earning minimum wage would be able to drive: a custom black-out Dodge Challenger Hellcat complete with extra wide fenders and red calipers.

Hands down, it was the love of my life.

I screeched out of the lot and made my way onto the I-eleven to Boulder City, which was a little over half an hour away from my work. I took a call from April on the way and confirmed our plans for tonight, before pulling into the driveway.

Our house was halfway up the hillside on the outskirts of town and was easily the nicest on our street. What with its light grey walls and large ornate windows, the house was deceptively upper middle-class. The average onlooker couldn’t detect the multitude of security cameras, the high-tech fingerprint recognition panel by the front gate, or the extra thick bulletproof windows. Nor could they know that the neighbouring house was also owned by my father and housed at least ten Mafiosos at any given time.

That was the beauty of it.

I killed the engine and made my way inside. As I entered, I could hear my father on a conference call in his study while my mother lounged on the sofa shopping on her laptop. It was just like any other typical day in the ‘Parker’ family.

“Hi, Mamma.” I called out.

“Hello,” she greeted absentmindedly, her long dark hair pulled into an immaculately messy bun at the top of her head.

“How was work?” I asked, heading toward the kitchen to get a drink.

“Average.”

Part of our ‘Parker family’ rouse was that my mother owned and managed a designer boutique in town. Not only was it used to justify thefabulousmiddle-class life we had, but it also helped keep her from getting too bored. My father was never around during the day, either constantly locked away in his study or traveling somewhere for meetings. There was a lot of time to kill in the ‘Parker’ family.

“That’s good,” I said mutedly, grabbing a coke from the kitchen.

“Hm.”

With that riveting conversation over with, I headed up to my room to plan my outfit for the evening in the lull before dinner.

I spent the next hour or so trashing my room and trying on various dresses and outfit combinations. I finally settled on a midnight satin slip dress paired with a well-loved pair of black stilettos. Satisfied with my choice, I put away my discarded clothes and headed downstairs for dinner.

Our housemaid, Mabel, was serving some spaghetti by the time I took a seat at the table. I was the first to arrive, but my mother followed soon after with her laptop still in hand. We ate in silence until my father arrived, taking his usual seat at the head.

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