Sunrise Malice: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance
Sunrise Malice: Chapter 8

I keep thinking about that dinner. Even when my dad’s in a terrible mood the next day and is ordering me around all morning, I keep thinking about the way Julien kissed my cheeks, his laughter and his eyes drifting down to my chest, and that one single word, possessive.

It keeps ringing through my head.

That night, Kim picks me up and we head over to Bloody Strike. There’s a boxing match going on, but we post up at the bar and ignore the fight. The place is moderately crowded with Hayes Group members and the random associated civilians that enjoy coming in to watch a bunch of sweaty men illegally beat the shit out of each other. Bookies walk around, taking bets.

“I can’t believe you’re really going through with this,” Kim says, laughing as she tucks into her second glass of wine. I just got done telling her all about the dinner with Julien, and she seems genuinely shocked. “I mean, after the last time I saw him? I halfway expected you to castrate the poor idiot.”

“He’s an asshole, but that doesn’t really change anything, right? I’m not marrying him for his personality.”

Kim chews her lip. “Why are you marrying him then?”

I go quiet and try to think up a way to explain it without making her upset. But there’s no easy way to say my dad is abusing me.

Except she knows that, doesn’t she? Everyone knows what my old man’s like. Maybe they don’t realize how bad it can get, but they know, the same way I know Kim’s mom is a total piece of work and her dad is basically nonexistent and her uncle once hit on her at a wedding. Everyone knows, but everyone’s got their own problems to figure out, and that leaves me grasping at bad options.

“You know the way things are right now. After what Cormac did, it’s like we’re diseased or something. I just want to fix what my brother broke.” Which is mostly true, but it doesn’t mention the ugly stuff. I’m tired of doing domestic labor for my lazy, uncaring father. I’m tired of the insults and I’m tired of the bruises. I’m sick of feeling like I’m not worth anything just because my alcoholic asshole parent looks at me like I’m a salt-covered slug.

“And you think marrying a guy just because Ronan wants you to will help?” Kim doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s a good idea.

“I think I have to do something.” I lean closer to her, feeling a wave of desperation. “I mean, what else do I have? Seriously, what else? I’m twenty-two and still a virgin. I’ve barely been on dates, barely had boyfriends, and what prospects do I have? At least this way, I know I’ll have a partner, and I can be a little bit useful.”

God, it’s so pathetic, saying it out loud.

“You’re not just… just… breeding stock.” Kim throws back her wine and turns to me, cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to marry a guy just to give yourself purpose. Seriously, there’s got to be a better way.”

Except there isn’t. Kim’s life is hard, but to her the world works in certain ways. She opens her eyes in the morning, and she knows what she’s doing with her day—that’s just the kind of person she is. Guys want her, and she’s happy and outgoing. Yeah, she didn’t go to college either, and her family’s about as fucked up as mine is, but that doesn’t seem to matter for her—she’s got the kind of personality that opens doors.

I’m not like that. It sucks and I hate it, but I can’t change how things are. I love Kim, but she’s not at rock bottom. Not like me.

“It’s not like he’s taking me away,” I say, mostly musing out loud. “He’s got roots in Chicago, right? Maybe we’ll take trips to France, which could be pretty fun, but overall, it’ll be normal. I’ll still be here.”

“You don’t even know the guy. He could be a controlling asshole.”

Possessive is the word he’d use. I give her a reassuring smile. “I can handle it.”

“I don’t know.” She runs a finger along the base of her wine glass. “You hear things, right? Like how a guy seems decent at first but once you become his wife, it’s like suddenly all the abusive shit he’s been hiding comes out. Like he thinks he owns you.”

“Julien wants to marry me about as much as I want to marry him. He’s making that pretty clear.”

“I know, I know, it’s just that I worry about you.”

“I know you do. But this is a good thing, I promise.”

She doesn’t look convinced, and I’m not sure I’m doing a good job making her feel better. Except I’m not really sure I can make her feel better, not when I share all the same reservations and worries.

I just keep thinking that marrying Julien can’t be any worse than living at home with my dad. It just can’t, and I might as well take the risk. From where I’m at, I can’t go lower.

We change the subject, which is a huge relief. Bloody Strike gets crowded as the night wears on and a couple cousins I’m not really familiar with sit down near us. One of them keeps looking in my direction, this younger guy with a peach-fuzz mustache and narrow eyes. I try to ignore it, but lately this has been happening more and more—it’s like I’m infamous because my brother was a fucking asshole. Cormac tried to start a revolt, and I’m somehow getting lumped in with him.

“Hey, you,” Peachfuzz says after about three beers, which I guess is what he needed to work up the courage. “You’re Cormac’s sister, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off, asshole,” Kim says, waving a dismissive hand. She grabs me and turns me away from the guy, giving me a meaningful look. I finish my drink and get ready to leave.

“No, hey, you are her, you’re Cormac’s fucking sister. I can’t believe you’d show your face in here. You know what that asshole did, don’t you?” He reaches out to touch me and I manage to weave out of his grasp. “Listen when I fucking talk to you, traitor bitch.”

“I had nothing to do with my brother,” I say, getting to my feet. “And I was just leaving.”

“Listen to the traitor bitch act like I’m the problem.” He sneers at me and elbows his friend who’s laughing along with him. “I hear you’re gonna marry that French fuck, what’s his name? Jerry or whatever? If you think letting Ronan sell you off is gonna make people forget what Cormac did, you’re dead fucking wrong.”

Kim brushes past me and gets in Peachfuzz’s face. “Would you fuck off and leave her alone, you stupid dick-sucking loser? You realize she had nothing to do with what her brother did, right?”

“Damn, who the fuck are you?” he says, grinning huge. “You’re kind of hot.”

“Fuck off, you disgusting pig. I’d rather fuck a stop sign and get lockjaw than touch your pathetic shriveled little cock.”

“Holy shit,” Peachfuzz’s friend says. “Damn, dude, that was harsh.”

“Yeah, seriously.” Peachfuzz’s eyes narrow. “You’re being kind of rude.”

“I’m being rude? How about you turn around, shave that pedo-stache, and mind your own fucking business?”

Peachfuzz’s face screws up. “Now you’re just being a bitch.”

“Oh, real smart, calling me a bitch.” Kim shoves him and he nearly falls off his stool. “Fucking loser, what are you gonna do, hit a girl? Go ahead, show everyone how small your dick is.”

I grab Kim’s arm before she can get herself killed. Peachfuzz is looking like he’s about to take her up on her offer. I drag her back as she continues to shout insults at the guy while his friend cracks up, loving the show.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say to Kim as I drag her outside.

She straightens herself and brushes down her clothes like she’s trying to clean filth off herself. “Yeah, I did, because you weren’t gonna.” She glares at me. “Why do you take that crap, Bri?”

“Because he’s just some drunk asshole and it doesn’t matter what he thinks.”

“But you’re better than him.” Kim’s jaw tightens as she glares back at the door. “Fuck you, little dick!” she screams and grabs me by the turn. “Come on, yell it.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I laugh at the look on her face. It’s pure rage.

“Yell it, bitch.”

Nearby, a few cousins smoke cigarettes and stare with amusement.

To hell with it. I’m so tired of these arrogant assholes. They’re all the same: petty, small-minded, self-centered, pathetic. And just because they have dicks and are members of the Hayes Group, they all think they’re better than me. They think they can shit all over me.

“Fuck you, little dick,” I yell.

“Louder,” Kim says and screams it at the door.

“Fuck you, little dick!” I scream along with her.

Then the cousins smoking nearby start screaming it too, which makes us start laughing. I drag Kim away, cracking up so much there are tears in my eyes, and as we head down the sidewalk together, I feel myself starting to wonder how many more nights we’ll have like this, just the two of us against the whole damn world, or if everything’s going to change when I marry Julien.

I suddenly understand why she’s so against it. Kim has had boyfriends, but they’ve never really mattered before—we’ve been really close, and she never, ever let a guy get in the middle of our friendship.

But a boyfriend isn’t a husband, especially not a husband that runs a serious crime organization.

Life won’t be the same. It just won’t be. That’s why I’m going to marry him—and why I feel a stab of sudden sorrow run down my spine.

Already mourning all the nights I won’t get to have again.