Page 51 of Ruined By a Devil

“This is a sacrament, Mr. Kavanagh, not a contract signing,” Father Thomas says as he steps down off the altar, stopping a foot in front of us. “Though I am well aware of how your families conduct business.”

I cross my arms, holding back a quiet sigh. To me, this is just another task to check off the list before the main event. A public performance to lock the Moretti and Kavanagh names together so that both sides can fill their pockets with even more stolen money through illegal activities. And to keep Nolan Devlin away.

Father Thomas opens his small black book, looking at us over the frame of his glasses. “Before we go over the walking order and the exchange of vows, there is one question I ask every couple standing where you are right now.”

“We don't have time for poetry, Father,” Malachi replies, taking his hands out of his pockets.

“It isn't poetry, son,” The priest responds. “It’s the foundation of every marriage. Why have you two chosen each other?”

I turn around facing Malachi, expecting him to give the canned, diplomatic answer we agreed on. Something about family honor, strengthening territory lines, or uniting two powerful bloodlines under one roof. It’s what Papà would say. It’s what anyone in this line of work would say.

When he doesn’t say anything, I open my mouth to speak for him, to get us past the awkward moment, but he beats me to it.

“Because no one in her life has ever allowed her to choose,” Malachi says and the weight of his words fall on me like stones.

My eyes widen as I stare at the sharp side profile of his face. But he doesn't look at me or even blink for that matter. His eyes remain locked on the priest.

“I intend to make certain she actually gets to choose her own life,” Malachi continues, his jaw tightening slightly while my throat goes completely dry.

I feel my own heart going crazy in my chest and I can’t do anything but stare at him, my mouth slightly open, completely caught off guard. I can’t even come up with some witty response like I usually do.

He’s talking about me.

He was supposed to talk about the alliance, about territory, but instead he’s talking about me, taking me completely off guard.

Father Thomas looks at Malachi for a long moment, the sharp edge in the old man's eyes softening as he nods slowly. “I see.”

He then clears his throat as he pulls two plain silver rehearsal bands from his pocket. “Next is the ring exchange practice,” the priest says, holding them out.

“Do we really need to do all of this?” Malachi asks. “We are going to do it on the day of the wedding anyway.”

“Yes,” Father Thomas says, not intimidated by Malachi’s death stare. “Now, Mr. Kavanagh, take her left hand.”

Malachi does as he’s told which is a sight one doesn’t get to witness often, and he reaches out and takes my left hand in his. His palm is large, his long fingers wrapping firm around mine.

I hold my breath as he slides the smooth silver band up my ring finger. His touch is steady, but he doesn't let go once the metal reaches the base of my finger and I have to remind myself to breathe as his thumb drags slowly across the back of my hand.

I feel embarrassed at the way my pussy twitches right there in front of the altar as he continues holding my hand way longer than it was necessary. The air around us becomes suffocating and it takes all of energy to just stay put.

Father Thomas looks down at our joined hands, then up at Malachi's face. He doesn't say a word, but his eyebrows raise slightly, realizing that this might be a real marriage after all. I’m sure he’s seen his fair share of business arrangements and I suspect those weren’t nearly as charged as ours.

“Now, Ms. Moretti,” Father Thomas speaks again, breaking the spell. “Your turn.”

Malachi finally releases my hand, though his fingers slide over mine so slowly it feels like a physical pull. I take a deep breath before I take the second band, hoping neither of them will notice that my fingers are slightly trembling. I reach for his hand, trying to push the ring onto his finger as fast as humanly possible, while my eyes remain fixed on his face, refusing to back down from the hunger burning deep in his eyes.

Falling for Malachi might be a terrible idea, but at least he makes me feel alive.

“Good,” Father Thomas says, taking the rehearsal bands back. “We don’t need to rehearse the rest as it’s quite straightforward. We'll see you here on the wedding day.”

Malachi turns to the priest, nodding once. “Thank you, Father.”

“You're a very good actor, husband,” I whisper near his shoulder as we step out into the bright afternoon sun. “That was very dramatic,” I say, keeping my voice as flat as I can manage given how much his words inside affected me. “Did you practice that in front of a mirror?”

“I said what the priest wanted to hear,” Malachi turns his head to look me in the eyes, his expression entirely blank.

“Right,” I nod, pressing my lips together in a thin line.

Liar.