Page 17 of Ruined By a Devil

“Good day, Mr. Moretti,” I say as I step out behind my future wife.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jade

“Can you turn that off? It’s freezing!” I ask Malachi, my mind still a little foggy while I try to figure out the dashboard in his car.

“What, the AC?” He asks without taking his eyes from the road. “It’s not on.”

“Then why is it so freaking cold?” Only as we were pulling out and joining the highway, I realized that I should have at least taken my things with me. Now I’m going to be stuck at Malachi’s mercy and he’ll probably continue buying me shirts that are a little too big and pants that are a little too small.

“Maybe close the window?” He finally glances in my direction and I notice he’s holding back a smile.

“Excuse me, is my suffering entertaining to you?”

“A little,” he admits, taking me by surprise.

“Who the hell answers this type of questions,” I say more to myself as I press the button closing the window. I didn’t even notice opening it in the middle of the nervous breakdown I was having.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me. You should thank me for getting you out of that place where no one respects you.”

“How do you know they don’t respect me?”

“Your mother?” He says and I remember the way she acted when we just arrived at the house earlier.

“You don’t know her…”

“Agree to disagree,” he says, reaching for something on the dashboard. “I have been in close contact with many bad people and my radar is spot on when someone is a jerk.”

I feel the warm air starting to spill over from the vents.

He turned the heat on for me.

I shrug.

His attention is on the beeping sound his phone is making from the holder. Someone is texting him like their life depends on it and I have to force myself to turn away.

“Fuck!”

Before I can say anything, Malachi’s phone starts ringing and he picks it up immediately without even looking at the caller ID. I couldn’t never do such thing. And not because my phone is rotting somewhere in my room. Correction, my old room. I have a serious dislike of taking phone calls, so I do my best to avoid them.

“Yes?” Malachi asks. “I’m driving right now, I didn’t read them.”

This statement is followed by silence and I can’t help but wonder who it could be. I felt a little bit relieved to see that this conversation sounds a lot like work.

“I’ll be there.” With that, he hangs up the phone and turns to look at me briefly, adding. “We need to make a quick stop.”

“Where?”

“Eden, the nightclub we own,” Malachi explains.

“I’ve never been to a night club,” I admit. “Especially not one like Eden.”

The thought of it scares me. I’m not even dressed appropriately to go to a club. And I’m most certainly not ready to pretend to be a happy couple in front of his employees and brothers.

“It’s okay, the place is empty this time of day,” he explains.

“So why are we stopping by Eden?” I blurt out.