Page 78 of Sunrise Malice

“Surprise. She cooks.” I steer him to the coffee. “She also makes a mean latte if you’re interested.”

“I’m very interested.” But he’s not looking at the drink. Instead, he swoops down and kisses my neck and pulls me tight against him. I touch his skin, breathing in his musky smell, a tingle racing down my spine. “I’m guessing you’re not angry with me anymore.”

I lean my forehead into his shoulder. “I never was, not really.”

“Then what was that in the car?”

I had really hoped we wouldn’t talk about it.

I mean, that’s not the healthiest way to handle a fight, but still.

“Breakfast is supposed to be the apology.”

He pulls back, eyes searching and hard. “I’m not asking for an apology, wife. You’re entitled to your emotions. You feel them and it’s what I love about you. I just want to know why it bothered you so much.”

I’m tempted to wriggle away.

I could retreat from this situation and hope that it simply passes and I never have to explain to him what was going through my head at the time.

Except that’s the way I’ve always handled direct conflict like this. I pushed it off, ignored it, hoped it would go away.

But my father never went away. Cormac never went away—until he was killed.

And Julien isn’t going away.

At least, I don’t want him to.

“I’m just feeling insecure,” I admit and hate myself a little bit for how pathetic that sounds. Before he can cut in, I keep talking. “It’s not that I think you’re in love with this Collette girl. I mean, obviously you’re not, you went out of your way to marrymejust to get away from her. But it’s more like, how am I supposed to compete? I’m not French, I’m not from a good family, I’m just nothing. I’m some random Irish girl with an abusive asshole father and a tenuous link to a bunch of coke dealers. How am I supposed to compete?”

He stares at me. Surprise echoes off his body language. I try to pull away, but his grip tightens and he doesn’t let me slip free. “You really think all that?”

“Yes,” I say, frustrated. “How can’t you see it? I let my father hit me for months and didn’t do anything. I’m weak, Julien, and how are you supposed to want to be with someone weak like me? It’s not about Collette, not really, it’s just about me.”

“You arenotweak,” he says with sincere ferocity. I pull back, staring at him in surprise. He seems honestly kind of pissed right now. “Don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Julien—”

“No, baby, I just listened to you savage yourself. Now you’re going to listen to me.” He grabs my hips and lifts me up onto the narrow island. I yelp in surprise, but he holds me there so we’re nearly eye level. “You survived an abusive father. You found a way out of your situation. You stood up to me, you gave me shit, you pushed back at every opportunity. Do you know how many women do that?”

“Probably not as many as you’d deserve,” I mumble, looking away.

He forces my chin back. “That right there.That’smy wife. My strong, beautiful wife. Who gives a damn if you aren’t French? The French are fucking overrated.”

I smile a little at that. “It’s true. You are.”

“Don’t get all cocky, Irish girl. I have some things to say about your people.” He leans down and kisses me, hard and fierce. “You see yourself so different from the way I see you. I came into this thinking you’d be some pushover nothing, but you ended up changing my life.”

“Changing your life?” I can’t help but grin at that. “Come on, that’s absurd.”

He’s not smiling at all. “It’s the truth. We have something. You can sit there and pretend like we don’t, but deep down, you know this is real. What we’ve been doing isreal.”

My smile fades. My heart starts racing. I know what he’s saying, but I’m having trouble making all the pieces fit together.

“I don’t know,” I say, choking the words out. “I mean, you’re right, this is real. But what’s it matter?”

“It matters to me. It matters to you. I want this, Brianne. You’re my wife, and not just because it’s some business deal we agreed on.Youare mine.”

I let his words sink in. I’m his wife, hisrealwife, because what we’ve been doing?—

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