Page 3 of Sunrise Malice

“Brianneisfrom my organization.” Ronan’s jaw works in anger. “Don’t be a fucking asshole right now.”

“This one is your cousin. This one isn’t. I need a wife that’s connected, Ronan, I told you?—”

I take a step back, my cheeks burning with mortification. The men don’t even seem to notice me slipping away. Kim’s still standing there, looking absolutely outraged on my behalf, but I don’t stick around to hear the ending of their fight.

I get the fuck out of there.

What a nightmare. Oh my god, that was so embarrassing. Julien looked at me like I was an utter disappointment, like I was the worst possible outcome. And there I was, thinking he was attractive and starting to wonder if maybe we really might start checking off some of the boxes on that stupid sex list I put together earlier.

But no, God, no, it’s not happening.

There’s no way I can marry that asshole now.

He wants Kim, not me, and I’m not going to debase myself by hitching my life to a man that sees me as second prize.

Kim hurries after me. “Hold on,” she says, grabbing my arm. “Oh my god, Bri, I am so sorry. What a fucking asshole. Can you believe that?”

“It’s fine,” I say, fighting tears. My cheeks are burning with mortification and all I want to do is go home. “It’s not a big deal, okay?”

“No, it’s a huge deal. Fuck that guy. What the hell was that even about? You’re not good enough because you’re not Ronan’s actual blood cousin or some crap? I’m pretty sure all I share with Ronan is that stupid last name. I doubt we have any genes in common.”

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. I don’t even know the guy, okay? I just want to go home.”

“No,” Kim says, shaking her head. She looks pissed, and when Kim gets pissed, all hell breaks loose.

Which can be good sometimes. She’s like a five-foot-three Pitbull with great tits and an amazing ass. I never worry about dudes being assholes when she’s around because she goes absolutely berserk and tries to murder anyone being remotely rude to the people she cares about. It’s something I admire in her—and also something I really hate. Because the girl doesn’t know how to avoid making a scene.

She turns back toward the men. Julien’s approaching with a hard look on his face like he’s marching off to an execution, while Ronan’s gone already. I can already see how this disaster’s about to play out, and all I want to do is avoid the further embarrassment of Kim trying to rip his big, gorgeous Frenchman’s head off, which she is absolutely about to try.

“Don’t,” I warn her, but I might as well whispergood doggyto a deranged rabies-infested bear.

“You arrogant motherfucker,” she says, marching up to Julien. “You selfish, stupid, self-righteous piece of?—”

Julien brushes past her. It’s almost comical the way he bends his body around her like she’s a piece of the scenery. Kim’s jabbing her finger in his direction and cursing at him like a sailor on meth, but it’s like she’s nothing more interesting than a parking meter to him.

“Hey, little dick, did you not hear me? Don’t you dare walk past me, you motherfucking?—”

Julien stops in front of me. His eyes burn into mine and his full lips press together in a tight line. Kim chirps at him some more, but she might as well try punching a brick wall for all the good it does.

“Ronan tells me you’re the one willing to be my wife,” he says with that sexy-as-silk accent again. “He tells me you’re important to this family. Is that true?”

“What thefuckis with you and this weird status obsession, you Frenchy fuck?” Kim snaps at him.

Julien continues to ignore her. He holds out his hand. “Give me your phone. We’ll exchange numbers.”

That finally breaks my spell. I gape at him and burst out laughing.

My weird reaction makes both of them pause. Kim stops trying to bite his head off, and Julien’s eyebrows pull in tighter, like he’s confused about what’s so funny.

I laugh in his face, unable to help myself. The situation is so absurd, it’s ridiculous. The guy just tried to reject me for not being important enough, and now he’s demanding my phone number. I can’t even begin to fathom how I found myself here.

“I’m not joking around,” Julien says, tone turning dangerous. I feel a chill at the intensity of his stare. “If you are going to be my wife, then I think we should have the option of speaking to each other.”

“Listen, you egotistic maniac, you just called me unimportant to my face and asked Ronan for another girl like we’re cattle you can just buy. There’s absolutely no way?—”

Julien steps forward and puts a hand on my elbow.

It’s not threatening. He doesn’t apply any pressure. Only his fingertips brush my skin, and that’s enough to send a sudden rush of fluttering butterflies right into my stomach. He’s close enough now that I can smell the musky warmth of him, the sharp scent of his cologne or deodorant or whatever he’s got on mixed with a husky, outdoorsy smell, which is shockingly pleasant.

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