Page 6 of The Devil Can Be Kind

I took the pills Adonis—I meanJesse—had passed me, and after about ten minutes, my groggy head felt considerably better.

I made my way out of bed and slowly meandered into the bathroom on unsteady feet. It was bigger and grander than any bathroom I had ever been in before; simple yet ornate in design. An oval bath stood at the room’s center before an illuminated panel of pure white marble. It was stunning.

One look in the mirror over the vanity and I almost died of embarrassment. The man had been right—I looked like complete and utter shit. My blonde hair was matted to the sides of my head and my makeup would have given the Joker a run for his money.

I quickly did my business and then stripped off my clothes, jumping into the spacious shower. With each minute under the hot steam the unease in my stomach grew.

Once I was finished, I dressed myself in a towel and headed to the closet next door in search of clothes. Clearly, my rippeddress was less than ideal, given I had no idea who I was supposed to be meeting imminently and didn’t know where the hell I was.

I all but drooled on the floor when my feet hit the plush carpet.

The room was fitted with floor to ceiling cupboards stocked with racks upon racks of designer clothes, shoes, handbags and everything in between. Chanel, Gucci, Alaia… I spotted all my favorites amongst the colorful rails. A matching white dresser sat beside a comfy round pouffe, and I stumbled to it. Overcome with curiosity, I carefully pried open one of the drawers and swallowed back a gulp as my eyes settled on a beautiful array of glittering jewelry.

Whatisall this?

Frustration washed over me—I hated being so clueless.

Realizing I had taken my sweet time in exploring the room, I pulled out a pair of black leggings and a white Balmain graphic tee. After spotting the heavy bags under my eyes, I applied a quick layer of powder foundation I found, scooped my wet hair back into a ponytail, and called it good. Whoever the ‘boss’ was, he wasn’t going to care about my appearance anyway.

I walked out of the dressing room to find a bored looking Jesse leaning against the other, now open, door across the room. He looked me over and grinned before gesturing, for me to lead the way out of the room.

After a few minutes of walking, I realized that the place we were in was in fact a house. A verylargehouse.

Well, I’m definitely not in the club anymore. I gulped as cool tendrils of fear curled in my stomach.

We walked through a warren of tunnels before emerging on a large balcony overlooking an entrance hall. A perfectly polished imperial staircase connected the curved balcony to the room below. It was beautiful…and far too ostentatious to be in someone’s home.

Jesse led the way as we descended and passed through various hallways, eventually stopping at a closed door. He knocked quickly before opening it and motioned for me to enter.

I gingerly stepped inside and was greeted with a large study, lined with bespoke walnut units and a matching polished desk. The room was somewhat similar to the bedroom I had woken up in and painted with a similar shade of muted grey.

All of this, however, was far less eye-catching than the young man sitting behind the desk and gazing at me with indifferent black eyes.

This man exuded nothing but power and wealth to an intimidating degree. From the stubborn set of his lightly stubbled jaw to his perfectly proportioned nose and the arrogant glint in his dark eyes, the man reeked of it. His crisp Armani suit and the gold Rolex on his wrist set my teeth on edge and senses on high alert. My earlier fear unfurled itself from my stomach and slivered down my spine at the sight.

The unfamiliar man’s eyes dropped, scrutinizing my appearance, and I immediately regretted the casual clothes and wet hair I was sporting.

“Adalyn Mannino. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

CHAPTER

TWO

ADALYN

Hearing my real name from the beautiful man’s lips made my heart pound furiously with adrenaline. My body tensed, preparing for an inevitable onslaught.

This is not going to be good.

“My name is Don Marco La Torre.” He announced, eyes slicing to mine with an indifferent intensity that sent shock rolling in my stomach.

I had never heard the name before—but I didn’t have to.

He was a Don.Cosa Nostra.

I was in the home of a rival family.

And they knew who I was.

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