Sunrise Malice: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance

Six Months Later

Hammering echoes down the empty halls. A power saw grinds through wood and someone laughs over the noise of a radio turned up loud enough to be heard past the commotion. I slowly push Kim’s wheelchair down the hall, pointing out all the places where we’ve already made changes.

“I’m going to be honest here,” Kim says, glancing up at me with a huge grin. “I am jealous as fuck.”

I laugh and she takes over pushing herself. We end up in an empty room, mostly finished, though totally without furniture. The walls are bare white and the mud between the drywall panels is still visible. I walk over to the window and look out over the quiet block as Kim turns slow circles behind me.

“I didn’t think you’d like it,” I admit to her. “I mean, after what happened.”

“That wasn’t the house’s fault.”

“True, but still. You know, trauma and all that.” I turn to her, refusing to let myself cry. These aren’t tears in my eyes—it’s just dust from the construction. “I’m still sorry, you know.”

Kim sighs and looks at the ceiling. She seems annoyed as she pushes herself over. “Brianne, for the millionth time, stop apologizing. It’s over, okay?”

“I know, but⁠—”

“But nothing. My physio’s going really good. I mean, crap, I barely even need this thing anymore.” She locks the wheels and grabs hold of my hand.

“Kim, hold on⁠—”

But she ignores me and levers herself up, leaning on me for support. I grab her arm and help as she takes a couple tentative steps, face contorted in concentration. Then she lets me lower her back down.

“See, I’m a fucking champion.” She beams at me, sweating slightly from the exertion.

Well, so much for not crying. Tears stream down my face. She’s been working so freaking hard for the last few months, and that’s the first time I’ve seen her actually walk. The doctors said moving her from the mansion set her back and they weren’t sure she’d ever heal properly, but that’s not stopping Kim from pushing herself to the limits and proving all of them wrong.

She’ll always be in pain. We don’t talk about it, but it’s the truth. Even if she does start walking again, it’ll always hurt, no matter how much mobility she regains.

But I’m determined to support her, no matter what. And not only because I feel guilty. I want to be there because that’s what a good friend does.

“What are you two little birds sobbing about in here?” Valentina sweeps into the room, practically beaming. I wipe my face and try to smile back as Kim smacks my butt affectionately.

“I walked a couple steps and now our resident crybaby here’s having a panic attack.”

“I’m fine, okay? I’m totally fine.” I get myself together as Valentina bends down to give Kim a kiss on the cheek before coming over to hug me.

“Get yourself together, sweetie,” she murmurs, squeezing me tight. “Strength and all that, right? Like the boys say.”

“The boys are idiots,” I say back, but she’s right. Kim needs me to be strong right now, and crying at every little thing isn’t exactly projecting the sort of confidence I want to feel.

Val and Kim start chatting about the direction of the mansion’s reconstruction. I follow after them as Val takes control of Kim’s chair, pushing her down the hall and closer to where the workers are busy expanding the living room and removing the industrial kitchen. “No more staff,” Valentina says, sounding almost wistful. “You have no idea how lucky you would be if you had staff.”

“We don’t need them,” I say, waving the idea off. “At least, we don’t need an entire kitchen’s worth of employees. Just maybe a chef or two.”

Val and Kim both laugh at me, and I grin in return. Just because I’m trying to simplify our life doesn’t mean I’m going to give up on the comforts.

Julien’s been busy building the business again. He lost a lot of strength thanks to the brief war with Dusan, but he’s been able to cobble together a coalition of former employees and new members that seems shockingly resilient. He’s back on the old corners and running product just the way he used to, all thanks to his deals with Ronan and the product flowing through the Irish channels.

Life won’t ever be the same as it was. That’s what Julien says, anyway. But personally, I think that’s great.

Now we have friends. Ronan and Julien aren’t ever going to be besties—but Valentina and I are. I see her at least once or twice a week when I stop by the Hayes house for breakfast, and sometimes Julien even comes with me. We’re building a life together, and of everything that’s happened since Pascal was sold back to France, that’s been the most satisfying.

“How long until this mess is done, anyway?” Valentina asks me as we head back to the front of the house.

“I’m thinking another few months, but it’s hard to say. Julien’s been bribing everyone to get it done faster.”

“This is a lot of house for just two people.” Valentina’s grin is sly and very much suggestive. “You’re going to have to find a way to fill it up.”

“She means with kids,” Kim says.

“Yeah, thanks, I figured that one out.” We stop in the entry hall. “They’re coming eventually. Julien’s been impatient, but I want to enjoy some time together first, you know?”

“Your body, your choice,” Kim says, nodding her head. “Don’t let that asshole try to pressure you.”

Julien’s voice drifts in from the office a few feet away. “She’s the one begging me to get her pregnant.” He appears, leaning against the door with a smirk and his arms crossed over his muscular chest. “Don’t let her fool you.”

“Gross,” Kim says, wrinkling her nose. “But hey, Julien. Cool house.”

“Thanks, and you’re looking good.”

“You like my new accessory?” She does a little spin with the chair.

Valentina takes Kim and pushes her to the door. “That’s our cue to head out.”

“Don’t rush on my account,” Julien says, but he doesn’t sound like he means it.

I say goodbye to the girls and promise to meet up with them in a little while. I help Kim get into Valentina’s truck, and once they’re heading out, I meet back up with Julien in the front room.

The space is empty like all the others, but it’s closer to being finished. Built-in custom bookshelves, a working fireplace with a vintage mantel made from local tiles, and a gorgeous rug covers the polished hardwood floors. Julien pulls me into his arms and kisses me right underneath the recessed lighting.

“How’s she doing?” he asks softly, one hand patting my ass. Even still, the man can’t keep his hands to himself.

“Good, I think. She took a few steps earlier and I cried.”

“That’s great. The steps, not the crying.”

“Yeah, well, Valentina told me to knock it off, so I’d better pull myself together.”

“You’re alright, baby. Don’t let Val get to you. I should’ve killed her when I had the chance.”

I smack his arm and shake my head. “Not funny.”

“A little funny.” He pulls me tighter against him and kisses me deeper and slower. I stay right there in my happy place for a few moments before he pulls back again. “I have two surprises for you.”

“Two? What did I do to deserve two surprises?”

“Everything. And nothing really.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out plane tickets. “We’re booked to visit France in two months. We’ll stay for a while, until this house is finished or until you’re sick of staying in five-star hotels and having mind-blowing sex, and then we’ll come home.”

“Sounds like we’re staying in France for a while.”

“That’s the goal.” He tucks the tickets away again.

“What about the second surprise? You said there were two.”

He laughs, steps back, and begins to unbutton his shirt.

I tug at my hair, watching as he reveals his bare chest.

“Well, I mean, I guess we can have sex if that door locks, but that’s not really a surprise⁠—”

“Mon minou,” he says softly, directing my fingers down his chest, directly over his heart.

Where there’s a new tattoo I’ve never seen before.

My mouth opens in surprise.

It’s the outline of a sleek cat with my name in black down the center. I’m not sure I would’ve noticed it among all the other ink on his skin, but now I can’t see anything else.

Mon minou, my name, right above his heart.

“When did you do this?” I whisper, gently touching. It looks very fresh.

“Last night. I’m surprised you didn’t notice this morning.”

My cheeks turn pink at the memory. “We were busy. And I don’t think I saw much of your chest.”

“True. You were busy facing away.”

I lick my lips and lean forward to kiss the tattoo. He lets out a low rumble before fisting my hair and pulling me against him. He holds me like that, and I feel his heart beating beneath me, beneath my name permanently inked into his skin. Our lives intertwined, joined together, made unassailable.

“Just don’t expect me to get one,” I say, grinning slightly.

“No? I was thinking my name in script on the small of your back.”

“Oh, God. You want your name tramp-stamped on me?”

“Better than across your forehead, which is my second option.”

“Monster.”

He holds me tighter. “No, baby, I’m just kidding. Keep that lovely skin of yours flawless.”

“Well, maybe a little something. When we’re in France.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “We’ll discuss that later.”

“Getting all controlling on me already, huh?”

“Only because you like it. We both know I’d let you do almost anything you want.”

“True. You spoil me. What a bore.”

He growls, pulls my hair, and buries my mouth in a searing kiss. “The door locks,” he says with a vicious smirk. “And you need to be punished.”

Which is exactly what I want.