Page 50 of Ruined By a Devil

“Got it, Boss,” Lucas says, pulling a folding knife from his pocket.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Jade

“We’re meeting with the priest at noon,” Malachi says, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, the smell filling the space between us. “It’s best to get it over with as soon as possible so we can focus on the rest of the preparations.”

“I agree,” I say, taking a sip of coffee.

“Riley messaged me saying that your mother asked to add another fifteen names to the guest list,” he continues, acting as if everything is normal and nothing happened last night. “Did you know something about this?”

“Oh, Mamma is probably thinking about her cousins from Italy,” I reply. “She has this large family and they’re known as the gossip central. But no, I didn’t know she wanted to invite them.”

“Then I’ll tell Riley no,” he shrugs, placing the mug on the counter and pulling his phone out.

“Are we really doing this?” I ask, unable to hold myself back any longer. If he can act like a robot that can switch his emotions on and off how he pleases, I certainly don’t want to turn into one.

“The wedding?” He asks, lifting his eyes to meet mine as he raises an eyebrow.

“Pretending last night didn’t happen,” I reply, leaning my hip against the island. “I'm not going to run around telling your brothers about what happened in the gym.”

Malachi’s already fully dressed in a tailored navy suit, every hair in place, his face as smooth and unreadable as a slab of granite and he looks annoyingly attractive standing there with his coffee mug.

“I didn't think you would,” he replies as he picks up his mug again and takes a slow sip, his eyes fixing on mine over the porcelain rim.

The ice man is back.

I easily recognizing his mask now. It’s the exact same wall he put up yesterday morning after leaving me wrecked on his mattress. If I hadn't felt the accelerated heartbeat against my collarbone last night, or tasted the salt on his lips while his hands shook in my hair, I might actually believe he doesn’t care.

“Good,” I say, taking a step closer to him, forcing him to keep his eyes on me, my mind set that I’m not playing this game with him today. “Because I'm also not going to stand here and let you act like it meant nothing.”

Malachi lowers his cup, his jaw flexing once, but his expression doesn't break. “It was late,” he says, his voice dropping to that quiet register he uses when he’s managing a threat. “You couldn't sleep and neither could I.”

“Don't lie to me,” I cut in. “You held me until your breathing slowed down, Malachi. We had… a moment.”

He steps around the island, closing the distance between us until I can feel the heat radiating from his body and the subtle scent of his soap and cologne hits my senses, making my pussy throb with a sudden, humiliating heat.

“I let you sit on a mat,” he murmurs, leaning down until his mouth is inches from my ear. “Don't confuse exhaustion for surrender, Jade.”

“I know the difference,” I say, raising my face slightly so my lips almost brush his. I feel the instant hitch in his breath and a part of me feels triumphant for getting a reaction out of him. My voice is barely a whisper as I continue. “You can put your suit on and pretend you're completely in control today. But we both know last night meant something.”

Malachi stays still for two long seconds, his chest rising against mine. His hand comes up, catching my chin, gripping my jaw firm enough to hold me in place, as his thumb drags slowly over my lower lip, pressing down until my mouth parts.

“Be ready at noon,” he pulls his hand back, turns on his heel, and walks out of the kitchen without another word.

It’s just a rehearsal, Jade.

A rehearsal for a fake wedding on top of things. There is absolutely no reason for my heart to beat at an annoying pace as I step into the chapel. There is even less reason for me to get excited about this marriage.

It’s just a business arrangement.

I feel attacked by the heavy smell of beeswax, old wood, and incense as I make my way to the altar. I chose a simple burgundy dress for today, tailored tight to my waist, with a high neck and long sleeves. Malachi is standing right beside me in his dark suit, his hands resting casually in his pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the city.

“Nice dress,” he whispers before Father Thomas joins us, making me even more nervous than I was when I stepped inside.

I try to focus on father Thomas who is standing on the altar steps. He looks between the two of us, his old eyes sharp behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

“We need to make sure the ceremony is short,” Malachi is the one to break the silence, his voice cutting straight through the solemn quiet of the nave. “We keep the vows short and there will be no long sermons. No one at this wedding needs a history lesson on holy matrimony.”