Page 17 of Sunrise Malice

“Good evening, mon minou,” Julien says as I approach the table. He’s in a dark suit like always, no tie, top two buttons of his dress shirt left open. I stiffen when he touches my arm and leans down to gently kiss both my cheeks.

“Very European,” I mutter and slide into the seat across from him.

He’s smiling now and I can tell he did that just to knock me off balance. “I’m glad you could make it. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“After the other night.” He shrugs and gestures in the air. The waitress comes over and pours two glasses of wine. He takes a long sip.

I drink from mine. The red is rich and oaky and very, very good. I lick my lips and remind myself to take it easy. He’s my future husband, but he’s still Julien, and I have to be careful around him.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t great you dropped that whole grandfather thing in my lap, but the five grand really softened the blow.”

His eyes flit to my chest and linger on my breasts before moving up to my lips. “You look nice tonight.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know why I like that compliment so much. “You look like your usual smarmy self.”

“Smarmy?” He laughs lightly. “I like that word.”

“It’s not a good thing.”

“Maybe not to you.” He tilts his head toward the menus. “Are you hungry? I can order for us both if you like. The chef does a nice little five-course tasting experience that’s very good.”

“Works for me.”

He waves the waitress back over and places our order. She hurries off, and I realize that despite spending time with Julien lately, we’ve never actually been one-on-one like this for any extended period. Which means I have to think of things to talk about.

It’s stressful at first. He asks about my family, which isn’t a great topic, and I ask how his grandfather’s visit is going, which only makes him scowl. But he persists and soon I find myself telling him about Kim, about the cousins, and even about some of the Hayes Group thugs.

As it turns out, Julien knows most of them. Not like they’re friends or anything, but he seems to keep tabs on most of the criminal underworld players, which I find very surprising. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would notice anyone beneath his station, much less learn the names of minor Hayes cousins.

“Can I ask you something?” The first course arrives and he begins to eat. It’s a plate of small bites: truffle-infused cauliflower served in a tiny cup and a spread of high-end meats and cheeses.

“Only if I get to ask you something in return.”

“Who’s Collette?”

Julien laughs. He holds his wine in one hand and swirls it slowly around. “She’s a girl my grandfather wants me to marry. A goodFrench girl from an important family back home. I knew her briefly when we were young.”

“Were you close? You and Collette?”

“Why, are you jealous?” His teasing smile annoys me, but I’m curious enough to ignore it. “No, Collette and I were definitely not close. I wasn’t very close with anyone from that world.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Grandpère is an important man in Marseille. All the rich, powerful families are friendly with him, but that doesn’t mean they’re interested in his adopted fake grandson. They looked at me like an animal Grandpère hosed off and dressed in people clothes, and girls like Collette could practically smell the social stigma wafting off me. She kept her distance, and I preferred it that way.”

I study him briefly, trying to square the man sitting before me with the image of the street urchin he’s implying. It’s hard to imagine—Julien is sophisticated, intelligent, and handsome—and yet he clearly seems to have a scar running deep into his soul.

“If things were so uncomfortable with her, why would your grandfather want you to marry her?”

“For the same reason any family like ours wants to sell one of their children off to another. Power, influence, continuity.” He ticks the reasons off on his fingers. “But most of all, I suspect Grandpère enjoys torturing me.”

“You and he don’t get along.”

“Not so much, we do not.” He drinks his wine and puts it down. “What about you and your father? Are there lots of warm, cozy feelings there?”

“No, there aren’t.” I don’t elaborate though, and when it’s clear I don’t plan on talking about it more, Julien lets it drop.

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