Sunrise Malice: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance
Sunrise Malice: Chapter 44

Pascal bleeds like crazy. It takes a lot of work to keep him from losing too much blood before the doctor arrives. All the while, he curses and raves in French, and I can only understand maybe a third of what he says. When the doctor finally does show up, I have to help Julien hold Pascal down while he stitches the wound closed and make sure he gets some fluids.

“He’ll survive, most likely,” the doctor says as Julien puts a stack of bills in his hands. “But he needs rest, food, and lots of liquids. No torture.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The doctor shrugs as if he doesn’t actually care.

I sit with Julien in the living room once the doctor’s gone. Pascal’s unconscious in the guest room, the windows latched tight, a new lock on the outside of the door slammed shut. There’s no way that old asshole’s getting out, especially not in his weakened state.

Julien pulls me into his lap. I grind myself down and kiss him. I’m feeling high from adrenaline and terror, and his hands feel so fucking good on my ass.

“We shouldn’t,” I say as he kisses me. “You kidnapped your grandfather.”

“Yes, I most definitely did.”

“People saw you.”

“Yes, and I suspect they’ll give my description to the cops.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

He laughs and bites my lower lip. “Not at all.”

I sigh as he pulls my shirt off and kisses my chest. I give in to him, to his touch, as his mouth replaces my breasts and licks my stiff nipples.

It’s a release unlike anything I’ve felt before as I shimmy out of my pants and he pins me down onto the couch. His mouth replaces my pussy and he licks me deep, groaning like he’s the one getting pleasured. All my worries fade, all my adrenaline peaks, and it’s like my nervous system has been primed for this exact moment.

I come on his mouth in seconds. It’s actually kind of pathetic.

But he fucking loves it. He laps me up and spreads my legs and plunges himself inside of me. He takes me like a beast, fucking me fast and kissing my mouth, making me taste my own pussy on his tongue.

“All of this is for you, baby,” he growls in my ear. “Every inch of my hard cock. Every stroke of my hips. Every orgasm. Every dollar. Every drop of fucking blood. It’s all for you.”

“Oh, god,” I gasp, grinding into him. We fuck in a frenzy, in a flurry. “I’m yours, Julien. I’m yours. All of me, I’m yours.”

“That’s right, baby, every inch of your delicious skin. Your lips, your pussy, your moans, every time you fucking come, you’re all mine.”

My brain’s a mess of bliss and I don’t care about anything but Julien filling me to the brim. I gasp, back arching, nipples dragging against his chest, as I come again for him, coming into a messy puddle of ecstasy and joy, and he’s not far behind. He fills me to the brim, and we’re a wreck together, two fucked-up people lying entwined on the couch while a man’s lying captive and barely alive in a room down the hall.

I think about what Valentina said to me. About making each other’s flaws better.

I don’t know if Julien’s making me good—but whatever I am, I definitely feel something for the first time in my life.

Maybe bad is enough.

Pascal stares at me as I enter the room. “Water and food,” I say, carrying the tray over.

He’s lying on the bed. The sheets are stained with his blood. His skin is pale and waxy, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. I wonder if he’s got an infection or if this is just a part of healing from serious trauma at his age.

“He’s too much of a coward to come in here himself,” Pascal says. He stares at the glass I offer him.

“Drink.” I hold it out.

He reluctantly takes it. His hands are still bound, but at least they’re in front of him now. He sips the water, then drinks the full glass.

I take it from him.

“I have to check your wound,” I say and study him. “Are you going to make this difficult?”

He holds his arms out. “Be my guest.”

I unwrap the bandages as gently as I can. The stitching looks good, and there’s nothing to indicate an infection. No redness, no swelling, at least not more than there was when he first showed up. I put on fresh gauze and get it wrapped again. All the while, Pascal studies me with a disconcerting stare.

“He could have been great, you know,” he says once I’m finished.

I put the tray down on his bed. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I can get you crackers too.”

He ignores the food. “I saw something in him. That’s why I took him from the streets. But now it’s like he chose to waste himself in this fucking place, instead of ruling all of France at my side.”

“You should eat.” I turn away.

“You’re not enough,” he says loudly. I stop, even though I know I shouldn’t. “Julien’s ambitious. You might seem good for now. You’re pretty, I can see it. Young, attractive, perhaps even slightly clever. But you won’t be enough eventually. He’ll cheat, like they all do. He’ll take mistresses, he’ll want more. You’re not enough.”

“Maybe not, but it’s my mistake to make.”

“Don’t be a fool, girl. You’re just some victim. You’re a pretty face and a warm pussy, but you are nothing. You must see that. He pities you. He feels bad for you. Poor, pathetic, pretty little Irish girl. He’s using you, and when he’s done, he’ll toss you aside. Don’t be stupid.”

I turn on him. I know he’s baiting me, but I can’t help it.

I’m tired of letting men like him talk to me that way. I took it from my father when I shouldn’t have. I even took it from Cormac.

Now I’m finished taking it.

“Listen to me, you washed-up piece of shit. Julien is my husband, and I’m his wife. I make my own decisions and my own mistakes, and nobody, especially not a worthless piece of trash like you, gets to make me question that. I do what I want, when I want, and you can go fuck yourself if you think I’m going to listen to you for a single second. You’re the one tied up on the bed, you old, pathetic man, not me.”

“Fuck you, little bitch,” he snaps, but I walk out of the room and slam the door. I push the bolt closed and stay in the hall for a second, breathing hard, annoyed that I responded to him like that. I let him drag me down to his level, and I’m kicking myself mentally for it.

Then I look up and spot Julien staring at me.

He’s leaning against the wall with a smile on his face.

“What’s that look for?” I ask and some of my anxiety begins to ease.

That’s what he does for me now. Just seeing him makes me feel better.

“You stood up to Pascal.”

“It’s not exactly hard right now. The guy’s half dead.”

He grins and shakes his head. “Bullshit. Pascal’s personality is ten times bigger and more dominant than normal men and you just told him off.”

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me then.”

“No, baby, I don’t think so.” He walks toward me. “You’ve been like this the whole time. You’ve just been too afraid to show it.”

“What the hell do you know?”

He grabs me by the waist and pulls me into him. “I know you’re strong. I know you’re beautiful. I know there’s a reason I fell in love with you.”

My eyebrows raise. “You fell in love with me, huh?”

“I fell in love with you, mon minou. And the way you make me a better man.”

I kiss him. Something in my chest, a knot that’s been curled around my heart for a long time, finally unfurls. I feel my shoulders relax for the first time in a decade. I kiss him and linger before pulling back to look him in the eye.

We fix each other’s flaws.

“Yeah, well, I love you too,” I say.

He laughs as we kiss in the hallway, and he’s right, I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I’m a survivor, and I’ll get through this mess too.

I have to believe we’ll come out the other side together.

But first, we stagger into the bedroom, and I let myself forget all my worries for a while.