Page 45 of Sunrise Malice

“Can I ask you something?”

He smirks, head tilted. “Go ahead.”

“How many boxes did we check off?”

His smirk turns into a big grin and then we’re laughing together.

It’s another kind of release. The orgasm was one thing—but the laughter is another. The tension breaks, and we get out of the hot tub together. He gets us both towels and I retreat into my suite to take a shower, despite his offer to come stay with him.

“I think I’ve had enough fun for one night,” I say, lingering in the hallway.

“The offer stands.” He’s in the doorway to his room. “If you need someone, I’m here.”

“Just promise you’ll get me as soon as the nurses call, okay?”

“Okay, but they might not call until the morning. If we’re lucky, she’ll sleep through the night.”

I nod, selfishly hoping I can see her sooner than that.

“Goodnight,” I say and close the door.

I stand there for a second, eyes closed, thinking about his mouth between my legs, thinking about his voice ringing in my ears, thinking about that kiss.

My freaking god,that kiss.

What happened in the hot tub was a mistake. It was a stupid decision, a self-destructive distraction. Getting through this marriage with Julien is going to be hard enough, but now I just made it even worse.

I crossed the line. I got a taste of what being with him can feel like?—

And I really, really liked it.

It felt so good, and I don’t regret it at all.

Which is going to be a problem.

Chapter 19

Julien

Jean meets me at the steps to the mansion. “Took you long enough. I called a dozen times.”

“I was busy.” I follow him up and into the building. The guards all look grim and nod as I walk past. It’s nearly dawn and I’m exhausted. “Where is he?”

“This way.” Jean takes me down a side passage and to a door that leads into the basement. The stairs don’t make so much as a creak while we descend.

Cinderblock walls, a narrow hallway, a room at the far end. Everything soundproofed to the point where Metallica could play a stadium concert down here at full volume and nobody would hear it. Light shines from underneath the reinforced metal door. Jean unlocks it with a heavy-duty key and it opens on oiled hinges.

Inside is a man. He’s duct-taped to a chair overtop of a drain in the middle of the bare concrete floor. A dull, naked bulb hangs above him. Off to the side, a series of knives, pliers, and other various tools sit on top of a plastic-covered table.

The man is only half conscious. His face is swollen from a vicious beating, but he’s still very much alive.

I guess he’s twenty-five, maybe as old as thirty, but it’s hard to tell with the wounds. Thinning dark hair, a black shirt and black jeans, both stained with blood. Big, hooked nose. Bad teeth.

“How much did he tell you?” I ask, circling over to the tools.

“Only a little so far. His name, who he works for, how many men were in the truck. I have a few trusted soldiers out catching the rest of them.”

“Very good.” I pick up a thin deboning knife. Flexible, deadly sharp, and terrifying. Good for getting under fingernails. I turn to my victim and study the blade. “You made a mistake yesterday. You never should have gone near my wife.”

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