Sunrise Malice: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance
Sunrise Malice: Chapter 17

Kim stretches her lean, tanned legs out and looks at me over the rim of her sunglasses. “I would seriously marry a horny wolf if it meant living in this apartment.”

I laugh and stretch my arms above my head. Chicago spreads out in front of us, and beyond the glittering city is the endless stretch of blue lake, disappearing out onto the horizon.

The view is absolutely breathtaking. There’s a slight breeze and full sun out on the terrace, and music plays from hidden speakers built into the railing. There’s an outdoor kitchen a few feet away and a hot tub at the far corner with an outdoor shower right next to it. I have a drink in my hand and Kim’s on her second glass of prosecco, and overall, I’m feeling really, really good.

Almost to the point that I can forget about Julien.

He left to do whatever it is he does an hour ago, and Kim came over not long later. The guards down at the front desk had to call and make sure it was fine to let her go up, and I heard Julien shouting at one of them and watched as his face turned pale.

The guards kept calling me Mrs. Moreau and were very respectful after that.

Kim’s in a bikini with her hair piled up on top of her head. She’s got a killer body that I’m almost jealous of. I have on my bathing suit too, but I’m keeping it underneath a giant cover-up that hides all the ugly bruises. She hasn’t said anything about it, but I noticed her frowning at me a little while ago and I can probably guess what she was thinking.

“I think that’s exactly what I did,” I admit to her, raising my glass to my lips. “A big, French horny wolf.”

“Mon dieu, what a lucky girl.” Kim fans herself with her hand and bats her eyelashes.

“Are you into my husband all of a sudden?” I arch my eyebrows at her and ignore a little twinge of jealousy. I know she’s only kidding around, but still. “If you’re so into him, you can have him. Just wear that little bikini and he’ll forget all about me.”

“Doubt that,” she says with a smirk. “And no, I wouldn’t say I’m into him, but more into his extremely luxurious apartment.”

“Glad to know where your morals are.”

“Nothing about morality here, my beautiful bestie, only a sense of self-preservation and a lover of fine comforts.”

I snort and raise my glass. “I can drink to that.” I throw back a big sip and she stares at me, her smile slipping slightly, and I curse myself inwardly.

Kim’s always so lighthearted and easygoing, at least when she’s not going crazy on an asshole for me. Sometimes I forget that I can’t joke about everything, especially not what happened with my dad. I mean, I haven’t even told her the full story, but I can tell that she knows enough by now.

“I meant to say something, you know.” She glances out at the water, leaning back into her lounge chair.

“About what?” I don’t want to have this conversation right now. I want fun Kim, not brooding Kim, because fun Kim keeps my mind off my current problems.

Top of that list: my husband.

“We all knew,” she says, not really answering my question. “I mean, Cormac didn’t really try to hide it. He was a dick to you wherever, whenever, and didn’t seem to give a shit who saw. I knew, and I didn’t do anything.”

“Kim,” I say, shaking my head.

“No, wait, I don’t want you to start apologizing.” She gives me a hard look and takes off her sunglasses. “You always do that. You apologize because you don’t want to have the hard conversation.”

She’s definitely right about that. Saying I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, I’ll do better is a fantastic avoidance mechanism and works most of the time.

But it’s also how I feel. I am sorry, and usually I think whatever it is really is all my fault.

Kim keeps talking before I can cut in. “I should’ve said something sooner. I didn’t know what was going on with your dad after Cormac died, but I should’ve seen it. All those long-sleeve shirts even when it was hot as fuck outside, the way you refused to let me come over anymore—” Her voice cracked. “If Julien hadn’t kicked the shit out of your father, I would have.”

I stare down at my hands, feeling very small. “Does everyone know now?”

“We put it together. After what Julien did to him. You know we live in a fucked world when it wasn’t even a surprise.”

“I never expected you to do anything about it. You have your own shit to deal with. Your mother⁠—”

“My mom’s a piece of work, but she doesn’t hit me.” Kim’s voice cracks again and she rubs her face. “Shit, I need to keep it together. This isn’t about me.”

We lapse into silence. I stare at the water, thinking about how hard I tried to hide what my dad was doing to me after Cormac died. Can Kim really blame herself for any of it? I sure as hell don’t blame her. I went out of my way to try to keep her from the truth.

“It’s over now,” I say after we stew in an uncomfortable silence. “I’ll deal with it. That’s the best I can do.”

“I’m here to listen, if you ever need someone.”

“I know that.” I reach out and take her hand in mine. God, now we’re both crying. “But hey, good news, I can probably afford a therapist now.”

She laughs and wipes her eyes. “You can probably afford an entire practice of therapists.”

“I’ll hire three. One for me, one for my therapist, and another for my therapist’s therapist, just so we’re all feeling good.”

“Make your new husband work. That’s the spirit.”

“Well, his bank account at least.”

I grin at her and she grins back, and I feel like I’m smiling to hold back all the self-loathing and anger I feel simmering on the inside. I don’t want Kim to feel bad for me, and I sure as hell don’t want her feeling bad that she somehow let me down.

She didn’t. My father is to blame and nobody else.

I don’t love that the Hayes family is talking about my abusive father, but at least now it’s out in the open and I don’t have to go through the awkwardness of telling people. I just hope Ronan doesn’t kill him, that’s all.

Though I’m not even sure why I care.

I change the subject and we talk about easier stuff, and when we go inside to refill our drinks together, I hear the front door open.

“Uh-oh,” Kim says, pouring more prosecco into her glass. “Is that the man himself?”

Julien comes into the kitchen. He frowns at me and only glances at Kim before giving her a nod. “You’re the girl that wanted to punch me in the face,” he says, but his eyes are locked on me.

Which is weird. Kim’s body is unbelievable—she looks like she spends all her life in the gym even though she’s got to be the laziest person I’ve ever met. I’ve never seen a man able to ignore her like this before, especially when her tanned skin is covered in goosebumps and her nipples are hard from the air conditioning chill.

“You’re the man that married my best friend. But don’t think that gets you off the hook. I still kind of want to punch you in the face.”

His lips curl into a smile. “Glad you two are having a nice time,” he murmurs to me. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Julien gets a water from the refrigerator then retreats back into the apartment. Kim’s eyebrows are raised once he’s gone and she lets out a low whistle. “Did you see that?” she asks.

“See what?” I’m staring after Julien, biting my lip.

“He was staring at you like you were the freaking aurora borealis.”

I fight a smile, but she’s right, he really was. And I’m in my dowdy cover-up, not looking particularly hot or anything, while my gorgeous best friend has her considerable assets out on display.

Julien only had eyes for me.

A shiver runs down my spine as I turn back to the terrace. “Who cares?” I ask her, slamming my walls back into place.

I will not, absolutely not, start having fond thoughts for my husband.

“I guess not you.” She takes my arm and we walk outside together. “Shall we imbibe while enjoying the sensuous pleasures of the hot tub, my lady?”

“Only if you promise not to make a move.”

Kim puts a hand on her heart and looks scandalized. “How dare you besmirch my honor.”

“You’d gladly besmirch mine if I let you.”

She laughs as we fumble around at the controls before finally turning the jets on. I take off the cover-up and Kim only glances at my bruises, a dark look passing over her face, but she doesn’t say anything.

We spend the next couple hours talking, soaking, drinking, and enjoying each other’s company to the point that I forget all about my brooding French husband.

When the sun starts to set, Kim changes in the bathroom. Julien appears again as we’re on the way down.

“Let me call a car to take you home,” Julien says, taking out his phone. “I’ll walk you both down.”

“No need,” Kim says, giving me a huge grin. “I can afford my own transportation.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Julien speaks French into his phone briefly before hanging up. “The car will be awaiting when we get down.”

“Are you this helpful to all your guests?” Kim asks him.

“No,” he says, looking at me. “Only my wife’s friends.”

In the elevator, Julien stands on the far side of the car, while I lean up against Kim. He glares at the two of us, and I try hard not to laugh at the sour look on his face, but it’s kind of hard. Even Kim seems amused by his bizarre grumpy mood. Once we reach the bottom, Julien walks beside me and touches my wrist to get my attention.

“The guards. Did they bother either of you?”

“After they let us up? No, not at all.”

He nods to himself. “That’s good.”

“Why do you seem like something awful happened?”

He gives me a hard look as Kim says a flirty goodbye to the two armed men sitting at the lobby desk.

“I wanted to be the first one to take you into my hot tub,” Julien says, voice pitched low.

My mouth falls open. “Wait, seriously?”

“Number twelve on your list.” His mouth quirks as he leans in closer. “Get fucked in a hot tub.”

My cheeks burn crimson as he walks away. It takes me a second to gather myself, because of course I wrote that on the stupid freaking list, and of course he has the means to make that fantasy come true.

A black car’s waiting on the opposite side of the street from the lobby. Kim hugs me goodbye and starts to cross as an engine roars and a truck whips around the corner, hurtling down toward her.

I don’t have time to do anything. I barely make a noise, more like a gasping shout than a scream. I try to get her attention, but Kim’s hurrying over to the car waiting for her, and she doesn’t see the truck until it’s too late.

The front fender clips her side, right in her hip. It hits her hard and she goes tumbling, her body rag-dolling on the ground as the truck hits its brakes.

“Kim!” I scream and try to rush forward.

Explosions crack the air in half. At least, they sound like explosions. I don’t understand what’s happening as the glass behind me breaks and a car alarm goes off, and then Julien’s tackling me to the ground. He hits me fast, knocking me to the pavement. I hurt my knee and skin my elbow, but he holds me down, covering me with his massive chest and shoulders, breathing hard as the explosions continue for another few seconds.

Then horrible silence. Air rushes back into my lungs, and I realize I’m screaming.

“Brianne,” Julien says, pulling back. The truck peels out as Julien’s guards appear, both of them armed. They fire off a few shots, but the truck is already speeding away. “Baby, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” I say and grab his shoulders. “Kim. Kim, she got hit. She’s⁠—”

Julien’s already up. He barks orders at his men. One grabs me and drags me back to the building. I kick and try to fight, but he’s like iron. Julien rushes across the street and I catch one final glimpse of him kneeling down beside Kim’s unmoving body, his hands gently touching her still chest, and I scream and scream as the guard keeps me inside, sobs ripping themselves from my raw throat.