Sunrise Malice: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance

I’m up early the next morning. Julien’s still asleep—he came home late and looked like he’d gotten run over by a truck. I want to let him get as much rest as I possibly can, and so I’m quiet when I brush my teeth and do my usual morning routine.

Then I cook him breakfast.

Our suite has a small kitchen. It’s more like one of those long-stay hotel rooms with a tiny kitchenette than an actual master bedroom. I had the mansion staff stock the refrigerator, and I spend a while chopping onions, peppers, and mushrooms for omelets. I get the coffee going, make some toast, and I’m almost finished by the time he appears in the doorway to the bedroom, his dark hair tousled and beautiful, shirtless and muscular and obscenely handsome.

It’s almost not fair, honestly.

How attractive this man can be straight out of bed.

“What’s all this?” he grunts as he comes over and kisses my cheek. “You’re cooking?”

“Surprise. She cooks.” I steer him to the coffee. “She also makes a mean latte if you’re interested.”

“I’m very interested.” But he’s not looking at the drink. Instead, he swoops down and kisses my neck and pulls me tight against him. I touch his skin, breathing in his musky smell, a tingle racing down my spine. “I’m guessing you’re not angry with me anymore.”

I lean my forehead into his shoulder. “I never was, not really.”

“Then what was that in the car?”

I had really hoped we wouldn’t talk about it.

I mean, that’s not the healthiest way to handle a fight, but still.

“Breakfast is supposed to be the apology.”

He pulls back, eyes searching and hard. “I’m not asking for an apology, wife. You’re entitled to your emotions. You feel them and it’s what I love about you. I just want to know why it bothered you so much.”

I’m tempted to wriggle away.

I could retreat from this situation and hope that it simply passes and I never have to explain to him what was going through my head at the time.

Except that’s the way I’ve always handled direct conflict like this. I pushed it off, ignored it, hoped it would go away.

But my father never went away. Cormac never went away—until he was killed.

And Julien isn’t going away.

At least, I don’t want him to.

“I’m just feeling insecure,” I admit and hate myself a little bit for how pathetic that sounds. Before he can cut in, I keep talking. “It’s not that I think you’re in love with this Collette girl. I mean, obviously you’re not, you went out of your way to marry me just to get away from her. But it’s more like, how am I supposed to compete? I’m not French, I’m not from a good family, I’m just nothing. I’m some random Irish girl with an abusive asshole father and a tenuous link to a bunch of coke dealers. How am I supposed to compete?”

He stares at me. Surprise echoes off his body language. I try to pull away, but his grip tightens and he doesn’t let me slip free. “You really think all that?”

“Yes,” I say, frustrated. “How can’t you see it? I let my father hit me for months and didn’t do anything. I’m weak, Julien, and how are you supposed to want to be with someone weak like me? It’s not about Collette, not really, it’s just about me.”

“You are not weak,” he says with sincere ferocity. I pull back, staring at him in surprise. He seems honestly kind of pissed right now. “Don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Julien—”

“No, baby, I just listened to you savage yourself. Now you’re going to listen to me.” He grabs my hips and lifts me up onto the narrow island. I yelp in surprise, but he holds me there so we’re nearly eye level. “You survived an abusive father. You found a way out of your situation. You stood up to me, you gave me shit, you pushed back at every opportunity. Do you know how many women do that?”

“Probably not as many as you’d deserve,” I mumble, looking away.

He forces my chin back. “That right there. That’s my wife. My strong, beautiful wife. Who gives a damn if you aren’t French? The French are fucking overrated.”

I smile a little at that. “It’s true. You are.”

“Don’t get all cocky, Irish girl. I have some things to say about your people.” He leans down and kisses me, hard and fierce. “You see yourself so different from the way I see you. I came into this thinking you’d be some pushover nothing, but you ended up changing my life.”

“Changing your life?” I can’t help but grin at that. “Come on, that’s absurd.”

He’s not smiling at all. “It’s the truth. We have something. You can sit there and pretend like we don’t, but deep down, you know this is real. What we’ve been doing is real.”

My smile fades. My heart starts racing. I know what he’s saying, but I’m having trouble making all the pieces fit together.

“I don’t know,” I say, choking the words out. “I mean, you’re right, this is real. But what’s it matter?”

“It matters to me. It matters to you. I want this, Brianne. You’re my wife, and not just because it’s some business deal we agreed on. You are mine.”

I let his words sink in. I’m his wife, his real wife, because what we’ve been doing⁠—

What we’ve been doing is falling in love.

God, it’s insane. It’s crazy, really, but he’s right. I’ve been feeling it too, even if I’ve been trying to run from the truth. All this time, and he’s been right here, waiting for me to figure it out.

And now I can’t ignore it anymore.

“Are you sure?” I ask, fighting tears and feeling like an idiot.

“You know you don’t have to ask that. I’m not the kind of man that says these things lightly.”

“I know. I just—” I take a deep breath and gather myself. “I want this too.”

“Good.” He kisses me gently. “This is happening, mon minou. My beautiful wife. Me and you.”

“Yeah, me and you.”

He kisses me again. This time, it’s urgent and hungry. He doesn’t pull back as his hands grip my hips. He lifts my shirt off and feasts on my neck. I gasp, back arching, my stiff nipples dragging against his bare skin.

He feels so good. I should’ve seen this sooner. I should’ve known. But it took me so long to look past my own selfish uncertainty, but now I can see that he’s been saying this for a while now.

I’m his.

I moan into his mouth. I lose myself in him. I let him drag my tights off and bury his mouth between my legs. I grab his hair and moan his name as he drives me crazy, my back arching, one of his hands grabbing my breast, and I come with his tongue deep inside my pussy. But it’s like he can’t help himself as he drags me down off the island and turns me around, my legs spread, my body aching for him as he fills me from behind.

My husband fucks me deep and rough. He whispers in my ear as he does it. He tells me how good I feel, how slick and pretty I am, how badly he wants me, and I know he means every word. I can feel him, thick and long, stretching me wide and driving bliss deep into my core. It grows and builds as he roars his pleasure, and I take him, pushing back against his stiff shaft, until I come again in a puddle of explosive ecstasy.

He moans as I drop to my knees and I swallow every single drop of him.

Another box checked off.

He brings over coffees. The food’s getting cold, but I don’t care. We lounge together on a big easy chair, wearing only our underwear, and drink lattes. He kisses me constantly like he can’t keep his hands to himself.

“If you keep this up, I’m not going to make it through breakfast without doing all that again.” I gesture in the vague direction of where he just finished fucking me into a puddle of brainless goo.

“That’s the plan,” he murmurs, kissing my shoulder. “But listen, and this is important.”

“What’s that? You have some filthy thing I need to do? Let me see that list, at this point I think you’re making stuff up.”

He shakes his head, not smiling. “Today, you don’t have to worry, but tomorrow, when you go see Kim, stay close to her. There will be guards watching you two.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“Tomorrow,” he says, face stone cold and serious. “Something’s happening tomorrow. Make sure you’re in her room and don’t leave it no matter what you hear.”

“Julien—” Concern rolls through me. But the way he’s staring sends a shiver down my spine. “I’ll do it.”

“Good girl.” He kisses me and gently takes my coffee from my hand. “Now, I want you to turn around and face me while I kiss you.”

“Oh, yeah? And then what?”

“And then when you’re dripping through your panties, I’ll graciously let you ride my cock.”

“What a gentleman.” I turn to face him, arms wrapped around his neck. “What would I do without you?”

“Masturbate a lot, I suspect.”