Page 10 of Sunrise Malice

I don’t move. He stares at me, waiting for a reply. The ring on my finger feels heavy. I want to leave but he’s right—I don’t like him at all. I’m using him as much as he’s using me. It doesn’t matter if he’s attractive, Julien Moreau is a means to an end, and I have to keep my real reasons for doing this in mind.

Let him think he’s in control. Let him think this is his game.

I’m getting what I want, and he doesn’t matter.

I step toward him and ease a smile onto my face. He seems surprised when I take his arm and lean against his shoulder.

“Alright, darling, I hear what you’re saying. I hate you and you hate me. It’s a perfect situation.”

“I’m not sure I’d put it that way.”

“Maybe if you manage to stop being a dick for ten minutes, we’ll cross one of my fantasies off that list. What was number three? I believe it was deep-throat blowjob?”

He lets out a grunt of surprise and clears his throat. His tight smile and narrowed eyes are skeptical. “Don’t think you can tease me.”

“I think we can both play that game.” I press a hand to his muscular chest.

His heart is racing.

This man wants me—maybe even more than I want him. At least in a physical way. Beyond that, there’s not much between us, and I’ll be happy if we can keep it that way.

Julien laughs softly and pats my arm as he leads me into the house.

Chapter 4

Brianne

Ibury my nerves deep inside and try to wrap myself in my new role.

I’m Julien’s arranged wife. We’re strangers and barely know each other, but I’m hopeful that we can somehow make this marriage work.

Even if I really think he’s a selfish prick.

The house is beautiful at least. Antique furniture fills each room. Julien gives me a short tour until we end up in the dining room where, apparently, we’re going to be having dinner with his grandfather shortly.

A young woman serves me wine. Julien sits at my elbow, looking a strange combination of extremely bored and extremely anxious. His leg keeps jostling under the table, and I put my hand on his knee to make him stop.

His eyebrows raise. “I didn’t know a hand job under the dinner table was a part of your little list,” he says.

I roll my eyes and pull my hand away. “You’re jostling all the glasses. Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not. I’m fine.”

“You’re full of crap. Come on, just tell me.”

His jaw hardens as he glances toward the door. “Grandpère is a difficult man.”

“He can’t be that bad. I mean, he’s your grandfather, right?”

“He adopted me, actually. He’s more like an actual father, but he never let me call him that. It’s always beenGrandpère.” Julien looks at me as if he’s confused about why he even mentioned anything. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He takes a long drink and I watch him, wondering what kind of man would adopt a kid, but make him useGrandpèreinstead of father or dad. That seems like an oddly cruel way to treat a kid. Based on his nerves, I’d guess they don’t have a very good relationship, but that isn’t really my problem or my business. All I’m here to do is smile, say I’m his wife, and move on with my life. Ideally five thousand dollars richer.

More men filter into the room. I’m introduced to Henri Deschamps, a large man with a loud laugh. He shakes my hand and seems very fascinated by my ring. “Julien always did have such good taste, did he not?” Another man named Rene Pelletier enters, though he’s not as talkative, and only glowers at me like he wants to rip off my head.

Last is a young man named Jean who seems to be close friends with Julien. He sits on my other side and smirks at me, leaning back in his chair slightly to study my face. “At last, the mythicalBrianne arrives,” he says. “I was beginning to think Julien made you up.”

“Unfortunately, she’s real,” Julien grumbles.

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