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CHAPTER

EIGHT

ADALYN

T he next morning, I woke up with a killer headache and puffy eyes that no amount of makeup was going to fix, but despite that, I was feeling better. The sadness I felt about my family was now carefully caged away to deal with on a later date…or never. I hadn’t decided yet, but I was done crying about it either way. It wouldn’t change anything.

I threw myself out of bed and took a quick shower, plastered on a thick layer of foundation and grabbed a cute one piece from my dressing room. I pulled my badly grown-out blonde hair into a high ponytail.

“You seem chirpy.” Jesse commented as I skipped into the garden room that morning. He was in his usual place at the round table, dressed in his ever-present black suit and shirt which looked almost identical to the ones Marco wore.

“I’ve decided to make the most of my situation.” I drawled around a mouthful of food. “Besides, if I don’t have a home anymore how can I miss it?”

I could see Jesse’s eyes cloud over as he looked at me and I waved it away.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.” I said as convincingly as I could. “Anyway, I know what I am going to do today.”

“Hmm and what is that exactly?” He asked intrigued.

“I’m going to get my hair done!” I did a small clap in excitement. “So…could you arrange that for me? Pleeasseeeee.” I exaggerated, trying to coerce him into helping.

I flashed him my best innocent smile.

“Fine.” He huffed. “Alonso will take you. When do you want to go?”

“Sometime this morning.” I suggested.

He quickly dove a hand into his blazer pocket and left the room while bringing the phone to his ear. I poured us both a coffee in his absence.

He resumed his seat a few minutes later, “It’s sorted. Alonso will be out front in thirty minutes.”

Jesse then proceeded to shove a rasher of bacon in his mouth like a pig.

“Thank you. And be careful—you’re going to get grease all over your suit.” I threw him a paper towel.

“Greasy is how I like it.” His grin was met with my chorus of ‘eww’.

“So, what exactly are you doing today?”

“Oh, you know…this and that.” He said, clearly dodging.

“Are you choosing not to tell me or have you been told not to?” I scowled at him over my steaming mug.

“That is the million-dollar question isn’t it, my dear old Bandit.”

I can’t be trusted by this family either, I thought angrily . Though, I couldn’t exactly blame them for it.

“Are you sure I can’t get you to come with me to the salon? I’ll treat you to a fancy pamper day!” I teased.

“Umm no. I’m not sure I could fulfill my role as big scary Mafia guy if I had a French manicure, so thank you but no thank you.”

“Very well then,” I said, getting to my feet. “Thank you for helping me, Jess. You know with…e-everything.” I finished awkwardly.

Jesse was fast becoming my only friend in this ‘new life’ of mine and I wanted him to know that I appreciated it. At times, he was the only thing keeping me sane.

“You are…welcome.” He coughed into his fist, equally as awkward.

Not twenty minutes later, I met Alonso and Tom on the drive out front. My shiny black credit card and brand-new phone were carefully tucked away in my handbag, and I was feeling more normal than I had in weeks.

As we drove into town, it seemed like Marco’s mansion was in one of the more exclusive suburbs of Chicago as opposed to the city center itself. It took a little over ten minutes for us to reach what I assumed to be a local high street, with a clustering of various up-market shops and restaurants.

We pulled up outside a sophisticated salon, which looked somewhat out of place against the plainness of the other stores. Alonso and Tom traipsed behind me as I stepped inside, and I wasn’t sure whether they were debating following me or not. It wasn’t exactly their scene .

Cool air conditioning hit my skin and a bubbly woman at the front desk greeted me. Her eyes immediately darted to the two men stood behind me and her mouth slackened in surprise.

Guess it’s not every day that two meat-head security details wander into a hair salon, I mused.

Four hours later, my radical new look was complete.

My severely grown-out, shit-bright blonde was finally gone, replaced with a color that more closely resembled my natural raven hair. I finally looked like me again.

Not the Adalyn Parker me, but the me I was before everything changed seven years ago. I was officially giddy with satisfaction.

With one swipe of my new credit card, I was done and heading back to the car with Alonso. Tom reappeared from wherever he had disappeared off to for the last few hours and reclaimed the driver’s seat.

“Where to now, Ma’am?” Alonso questioned once we were all inside.

“Hmm.” I contemplated for a moment.

I was feeling good. The best I had felt in weeks in fact, and I didn’t want to go back just yet. I had only just begun to taste freedom after all…so I quickly devised a plan.

“Shopping. Is there a shopping center or something around here?” I questioned.

“Absolutely, Ma’am.” Alonso nodded and Tom started the car, peeling out into the road as we continued on our journey.

The drive this time took just under an hour as we made our way along countless busy streets, driving further and further toward central Chicago. We didn’t stop until we hit the infamous Michigan Avenue, which, as predicted, was heaving with crowds of people.

Tom somehow managed to pull the car to a stop as close to the shopping center as possible. Car horns immediately sounded behind us, but neither man seemed to care. Alonso got out with me and walked us inside Water Tower Place while Tom drove around to find parking.

Countless floors circled above us as we entered, each holding a seemingly endless warren of shops, well-known brands and restaurants. Endless opportunities to use my credit card awaited, and I certainly didn’t blanch at the chance to use it.

For the rest of the afternoon, I managed to drag the impassive Alonso from shop to shop, only stopping once for a quick bite to eat. Somewhere along the way, Tom joined us, and he too followed my every move.

To my amusement, both men refused to accompany me when I insisted on going into ‘ Victoria’s Secret’ , preferring to stand outside like doormen to a nightclub instead. I went a bit wild without their presence reigning me in and racked up an almost one-thousand-dollar bill in the process.

Marco’s gonna feel that.

Then a devilish idea popped into my head.

With my evil plan quickly coming together, I passed my white and pink bags over to the men and headed off in search of the more luxury brands I truly adored. After five minutes and the help of Google maps, I found my way inside Bloomingdales and the place of dreams.

Michael Kors? Not a problem.

Gucci? Don’t mind if I do!

Another two hours later and at least $5,000 lighter, I was exhausted but fully satisfied with myself.

Was it mature of me to spend a shit load of money in retribution for a few weeks being kept as a hostage? Probably not. But, did it make me feel better about it? Hell yeah, it did!

Once all the bags and boxes had been loaded into the vehicle, we weaved through the traffic heading back in the general direction of the mansion.

I pulled out my phone and realized I had received a few unread messages from Jesse while I was out.

Jesse: Wat is taking so long?

Jesse: HELLO?

Just then my phone buzzed again, and a new message popped up.

Jesse: Bandit! Marco wants you 2 join 4 dinner 2night. Serving @8pm

I fought against the urge to gulp at the invitation. Last night hadn’t exactly been pleasant and I didn’t think I could take any more bad news so soon.

Me: On way back now. Wont b long.

Me: Nothing bad happened while I was out, did it?

I couldn’t help but type the last message. Anxiety starting to eat away at my good mood.

Jesse: No

Jesse: Wait why?

Relief quickly stopped my pessimism in its tracks.

Me: No reason

Forty minutes later the car rolled to a stop outside the front of the familiar house. In the daylight, the perfectly maintained structure bore more resemblance to a modern castle than it did a mansion, what with the sandy stone walls, sizable ornate windows, and decorative fountain out front. There were definitely worse houses to call home.

Once everything had been toted up to my room, I began unpacking and sorting through the various items. I carefully paired some of the new outfit combinations together and stored them away with a little too much enthusiasm.

It helped keep the permanent sense of abandonment at bay when my hands were busy.

There was a gentle knock on the door behind me. “You have ten minutes, Bandit.”

“Thank you.” I smiled. “Is he going to be mad?”

Jesse just laughed, knowing immediately what I was referring to.

In some sick, twisted way, I really hoped he would be. I wanted to get under Marco’s skin and make him realize what he’d been asking for when he’d said I didn’t suit ‘ weak’ or ‘ simpering’ . And if it pushed him into a decision about marrying me off quicker… Well, it was worth the risk.

“I think the Boss just wants you to have fun. That card he gave you is pretty much bottomless.”

“Bottomless?” He had to be joking.

“Pretty much. Now, you have eight minutes.” Jesse smirked and quickly left the way he’d come.

I hurriedly straightened my clothes, spritzed some of my perfume and dabbed on some more powder under my eyes before I left for the dining room. With Jesse’s previous reassurances in the back of my head, I was actually looking forward to the meal tonight.

The room was dressed the same as the night before. Two places laid out at either end of the table, while four waiters were stationed attentively at the far sides of the room. As soon as I entered, one of them came forward to hold out my chair and another began pouring some wine.

It was an ostentatious display of wealth having so many staff complete such minor tasks, but then again, the La Torre’s didn’t seem like the kind of people to prefer the understated.

Marco arrived shortly after I got settled. Unusually, his short hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked somewhat exhausted as he took his seat opposite me. I watched as a waiter served him a rich amber liquor instead of wine.

A starter of deep fried mozzarella was served as soon as we’d settled, and unable to bare the uncomfortable silence for longer than the five minutes that had already elapsed, I decided I would attempt a conversation.

“Rough day?” I asked without looking up from my food, trying to avoid the eyes I could feel like a caress against my skin the moment I spoke.

“Something like that.” His deep voice sounded surprisingly weary, and I glanced at him.

“Want to talk about it?” I asked.

“No.”

Silence descended again and I toyed with the salad on my plate.

“Well, I had a lovely day.” I remarked.

“I heard.”

He’d heard about my day, huh? His dark eyes finally met mine, but he didn’t look mad like I had expected.

“The dark hair suits you.” The unexpected compliment had my heart spluttering, and he quickly looked away. “Did Chicago meet your expectations?”

I got a handle on my heart and my voice after another moment. “It is now my favorite thing about living here.” I paused, cautiously. “You aren’t mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you, Ada?” Ada... I decided I liked his nickname for me.

“Because of all the money I spent,” I hinted, confused.

The waiters came and removed my plate at that point, replacing it with the most incredible smelling steak. Marco took several bites of his.

“That was the reason I gave you the card,” he said simply as if his answer were obvious.

You have got to be kidding me. I must have spent over ten thousand dollars and yet he looked as indifferent as he usually did.

I scowled.

It wasn’t the reaction I was expecting and it thoroughly pissed me off. Another one of my plans now totally derailed, we lapsed back into a deafening silence. But at least it wasn’t as uncomfortable this time.

I turned my attention to the beautifully tender meat before me, popping a sliver into my mouth and almost groaned at the taste. I quickly downed the rest of the dish, foregoing any further attempt at conversation until I was well into eating my Crème Brulé.

What was the point of asking me to dinner to sit in total silence? The long swaths of quiet between us were starting to eat at my nerves.

“Do you always eat in such stoney silence?” I questioned, allowing myself to stare at him from across the table.

He laughed once, but it was devoid of humor. “Sometimes.”

“Then why invite me for dinner? What is the point to all this?” Irritated, I gestured to the ridiculously ostentatious set up of the room just as I had the day before.

“I eat like this every night. You are invited because you live here.” His expression was condescending and cold.

Clearly, he didn’t like having to explain himself.

“Can Jesse join us?” I asked, suddenly hopeful that having another person at the table might relieve some of the tension between us.

“No.” His eyes flashed and the muscle in his jaw twitched as it frequently did when he was angry.

Rattled by his reaction, I leaned back in my chair to scowl at him contemptuously, not understanding where his sudden hostility had come from.

I opened my mouth to ask him about it, when one of the doors to the room swung open and Layton stepped into the hall. Marco looked just as surprised to see him as I did.

“Apologies for the interruption, Boss. Lexi has arrived as requested,” He announced, keeping his eyes respectfully trained to the floor and away from my curious gaze.

Lexi? Who the fuck is Lexi?

The name rang a distant bell and after a moment, I remembered it was the person Jesse referred to as a ‘buzzard’ yesterday morning after the club. You didn’t have to be a genius to work out exactly what Lexi was buzzing around Marco for.

I took an instant dislike to her.

“Tell her to wait in the living room.” Marco waved dismissively, resuming his eating.

“No need, Layton.” I spoke up. “I was just leaving this riveting conversation anyway. You can send his lapdog in.” I added acridly, throwing my napkin on the table and rising to my feet.

A glance toward the Don told me he was quite obviously trying to contain his temper. I didn’t bother acknowledging it though, briskly walking back out the way I had arrived and slamming the door behind me.