Page 33 of The Devil Can Be Kind

His frown turned into a glare as he gave me a look, and Jesse burst into laughter across the table.

“She sounded like…quite…something?” Jesse winced at his own word choice and I hid a chuckle behind my hand.

“Hee-Haw. Hee-Haw.” I did my best donkey imitation, causing both Jesse and I to erupt into peals of laughter.

Marco, on the other hand, did not look amused.

“Oh, lighten up. It’s a joke.” I said once I’d managed to get a hold of myself.

“That was that Amanda girl, right?” Jesse suddenly asked, intrigued.

I bit into my pancake and pretended to look interested at the label on the back of the ketchup bottle.Yes, this is ketchup. Ke-t-chup.

“Yes.” Marco sighed. “At least I think that was her name. No mentioning it to Lexi.”

Who’s Lexi?I fought the scowl forming on my brow.

“Gottcha.”

“The last thing I need is her getting an excuse to keep coming over.” Irritation seeped into his voice.

“Agreed. That woman is like a human moth.” Jesse snickered.

“You’re both pigs.” I grumbled.

By early afternoon,Jesse and I had driven back to the mansion. The moment the tires rolled to a stop outside thefamiliar sandy stone walls, I had traipsed inside and collapsed on my bed, desperate to catch up on last night’s lost sleep.

I slept peacefully for a few hours, waking up shortly before four and throwing on a couple of mindless shows to keep myself busy. Jesse had found me a couple of hours later, informing me that I was invited to a formal dinner with Marco, which was surprising. I didn’t think a young Don like himself would be in the habit of having a formal dinner every evening…but apparently, he did. It was just this time I was also invited.

With only an hour to get ready, I jumped into the shower, blow-dried my hair and put on a fresh layer of barely-there makeup. Not knowing quite how formal this ‘formal dinner’ was, I settled on a floral mid-length camisole style dress and paired it with wedge sandals.

At precisely eight o’clock, I walked into the extravagant dining hall I had only been in once before when on my tour with Lucia. When I entered, a butler in a white-tailed coat approached, escorting me to one end of the colossal table at the room’s center. It could quite easily have seated sixteen people, but tonight only two places had been laid out at opposite ends.

A tall glass of champagne accompanied me shortly after I had taken my seat.

“Good evening, Adalyn.” Marco greeted.

The coldness in his tone now, as opposed to how it had been just the previous night at the club, was like night and day. How he could switch between the two personas within himself so easily, I had no clue. I could barely keep up with it myself.

“What’s all this about?” I waved at the room and four waiters standing silently nearby.

“Dinner.” He shrugged, pulling his tie loose from around his neck and settling back into his chair.

“I meant why amIhere?” His sullen eyes met mine across the expanse. Before he could answer, the doors opened, andtwo more waiters approached with a steaming bowl of soup and freshly baked bread.

It was only once they had left again that he set about answering my question.

“I thought I owed you the truth.”

The truth?

That was surprising. I had long since given up with the idea that Mafia men cared about the truth.

“The truth about your ransom.” He continued, picking up his spoon simultaneously.

A few seconds of silence passed while he seemed to consider his next words.

“My men made contact with your father, Alberto, and commenced discussions about your ransom before my jet even landed at O’Hare International. Your capture had been planned for months, Ada. I was just waiting for the right time to take you.” He spoke measuredly as if he were unsure of my reaction.

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