Page 24 of The Devil Can Be Kind

I vaguely heard Marco’s firm voice ringing out in Italian. I didn’t know the language well enough to understand what he’d said and frankly in that moment, I didn’t care either way. I felt Benny and Jesse move slowly toward the door in response to whatever it was though, disappearing with a gentle click of the handle.

His desk chair creaked, and I flinched.

I was scared. Terrified.

He’s going to kill me now.

A sob tore out of me.

My heart stammered and my breaths were coming in pants as I finally lifted my head. I was met by the cool black eyes of the Don, as he leaned against the desk.

I fell to my knees before him instantly, the ground biting into my knees.

“P-please don’t kill me,” I cried. “I’m so,so,sorry I lied. I didn’t know they wouldn’t pay. Please, Marco,pleasedon’t hurt me. I’ll do anything. I’m s-sorry. I’m so,so,s-sorry,” I begged, my voice garbled by my tears and sobs, making me sound nothing short of pathetic.

I didn’t care. I was begging for my life.

“I’ll do anything.Anything. Justplea?—.”

“You aren’t in here so I can kill you.”

What? Why?

I didn’t understand the words that hung between us.

Why wouldn’t he kill me?

My sobs died in my throat and acute relief made the pounding in my ears almost painful. I swiped at the tears tracking down my face, breathing in uneven gasps as a new wave of terror quickly constricted my lungs, my relief suddenly short-lived.

If he wasn’t going to kill me…did that mean a fate worse than death?

I tilted my head to look at the Don, meeting his dark eyes with nothing short of terror.

“T-t-then what are you going to do to me?” My voice came out a trembling whisper. Tears hot and heavy staining my cheeks.

“I’m not a fucking monster, Ada.Jesus,” The Don bit out, taking in my expression.

He laughed once without a single trace of humor and straightened to his full height, walking away. He stood and looked out the window like Jesse had earlier.

“W-what?” My brain struggled to process what he had said around the pounding of adrenaline and remnants of fear clutching at my chest.

He turned back toward me, shoving his hands casually into his pockets. His Rolex glinted with the movement.

“Unlike a lot of men in myprofession,I am not the kind of man that sells women into torment. So quit looking at me like I am.”

Surprise had me searching his face and meeting his indecipherable eyes with my own. He let out a heavy sigh.

“You are to remain here for the foreseeable future. Until I can figure out the particulars,” he said measuredly. Once again, the picture of ease and stoic detachment.

“Now, getup,” he ordered.

I immediately complied, unsteadily finding my feet and heaving myself back into the chair. The cool leather instantly stuck to my over-heated skin as I contemplated what he had said.

“I’m to remain here,” I muttered to myself, as if checking I had heard the crux of his words correctly. “I’m not going to be killed. I’m not going to be sold…”

“No, you’re no?—"

“Why?” I blurted out, cutting him off.

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