Page 74 of Ruined By a Devil

“So now I’m your daughter?” I set my wine glass down. The crystal clinks sharply against the wood.

“Of course you are, Jade,” he responds. “What kind of nonsense is this?”

“Wasn’t I your daughter when your men opened fire at me in your own house?” I continue, my voice steady despite the heat growing inside of me.

“Jade—”

“The port investments were secured before the alliance,” Malachi says, his voice level. “Thirty percent is a vast overreach.”

My father frowns, his expression hardening with irritation.

The low conversations in the room die instantly. He steps back, pulls out the heavy armchair at the head of the table, and waits.

“My wife’s approval is required for any terms drawn tonight,” he continues without raising his voice, but the cold weight in his tone makes Papà swallow hard.

I stand up, my legs shaking as I move to the head of the table. I sit down. Malachi remains standing right beside my shoulder, a solid wall of quiet menace.

“The Morettis will take ten percent,” he says. “And the southern routes remain under Kavanagh control. What do you think, Jade?”

“I agree,” I force the words out evenly over the frantic beating of my heart.

The men at the table nod, debating my terms.

He wants to see how much I can take before I break.

I shift in the leather chair, leaning back just enough that my shoulder brushes his suit jacket.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Jade

The torture continues throughout the rest of the dinner and as soon as we finally reach an agreement with my family and everyone leaves, Malachi grabs my arm with a tight, unyielding grip, hauling me out of my chair with enough force that my heels stumble against the thick rug.

“This looks a lot like winning,” I say, a wide smile on my face but he remains silent as he marches me away from the dining room, down the corridor, taking a right turn into another corridor, then having us climb up the stairs before reaching the part of Eden I’ve never been into. He unlocks the door and then slams it shut behind us with a sharp crack that rattles the glass in the window frames.

The deadbolt slides home with a heavy, final thud, as Malachi pulls the curtains to the big mirror.

“What is this place?” I ask, looking around. There is a large bed in the middle of the room, and a tall window looking outside on the street. Malachi makes sure to pull that curtains as well.

I grin. “So you admit I won. Does that turn you on?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead he spins me around and pins my back hard against the wall, his large frame caving me in completely, his proximity making it difficult for me to breathe properly. I clench my thighs together, hoping the ache for him would go away but it only makes it worse.

He growls as his hands slam flat against the wall on either side of my head, blocking every inch of escape making my heartbeat accelerate and my skin burns with the intense, raw desire that twists deep in my lower stomach. I’m wide open, throbbing, desperate for friction.

“I think you underestimated me,” I snap back, breathing hard, my chest rising and falling against his, absolutely refusing to shrink in front of the fire in his eyes. I reach out, grabbing the stiff lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him down until our mouths are an inch apart.

“You started this,” I whisper, my voice shaking with a reckless edge. “Now take charge of it and finish it.”

Malachi smirks. That’s all he needs to hear and his hands move with brutal efficiency. “Remember that you asked for it.”

He rips the silk of my dress down at the shoulder, the fabric tearing with a sharp, sound that shreds the seam, before he shoves my skirt up to my waist, bunching the black silk against my hips, so he could slide his hand straight between my thighs.

His fingers find me instantly as if they’ve done this a thousand times, as if he’s been fucking me for an eternity. I blush realizing that I am completely soaked, and I can’t control the trembling, entirely undone.

A sharp gasp breaks past my lips, my head falling back against the wall as his fingers stretch me without any warning or gentleness.

“On your knees,” he commands, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper against my ear.