Sunrise Malice: Chapter 9

I raise a cup of good espresso to my lips. “Coffee without a cigarette is like sex without an orgasm,” I grumble.

Ronan’s eyebrows raise. “I don’t really want to hear about your sexual habits.”

“I’m sorry, do you not come when you fuck? Don’t act like this is such a big surprise.”

He rolls his eyes and sips his own coffee. We’re at the back of a fancy cafe run by a friendly associate of mine, one who is good about keeping his mouth shut and doesn’t have any cameras inside of his shop. The smell of roasting beans and pastries fills the air, and the machines hiss and hum as the barista makes drinks. Pleasing jazz filters in from old speakers hidden in the ceiling.

Ronan’s a prick. That goes without saying. But in this case, it’s because he always wants to meet so fucking early in the morning, and I swear he does it just to piss me off.

“If you set this meeting just to discuss your sex life, I’m gonna head out. Valentina’s back at my mom’s place waiting for me.”

“And how is my favorite Italian girl doing?”

Ronan gives me a hard look. He still hasn’t forgiven me for threatening to kill his wife. Except she wasn’t his wife back then and it wasn’t like I was definitely going to murder her. It was just within the range of possible outcomes, that’s all.

“Valentina’s fine. Do me a favor and don’t ask about her again.”

I wave that away. “You act as though I actually care.”

“Alright, Julien, you’ve officially annoyed me. What do you want?”

“I want to talk about Brianne.”

Ronan nods as if that’s what he expected and leans back in his chair. “She came to me the other day.”

“Yeah? And what did she say?” I shouldn’t care this much, but my heart rate ticks up for some reason. It isn’t like I need her—there are plenty of other Irish girls Ronan could send my way if Brianne decides she doesn’t want to go through without our marriage—but I find myself wanting her anyway.

It’s the list. It’s the girl herself. She’s angry and stubborn, but also strangely innocent.

She’s also beautiful, and I keep looking at all her little fantasies and wondering which one we’ll do first.

“It seems like this match is going to work out after all,” he says, sounding honestly surprised, the asshole. “But let me ask you something first. Did she mention her father to you at all?”

I tilt my head side to side. “She doesn’t want him involved in our life. I gather they don’t have a good relationship.”

“No, they don’t.” Ronan’s expression darkens. “He’s a drunk. There are too many of those in our line of work.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I say softly and sip my coffee. “Should I be doing something about him?”

Ronan shakes his head. “He’s one of mine, which means he’s my problem. You worry about Brianne.”

“I can do that. If you don’t care either way, I’d like to make our marriage official sooner rather than later.”

“You in a rush?” Ronan’s lips tug into a frown.

“Something like that. Unless you have a problem with it, I’m going to bring her to city hall in a few days.”

“That’s fine, so long as she’s okay with it.” Ronan drums his fingers against his cup and looks away. “I need you to be good to her, Julien. I don’t like the idea of arranging a marriage, and I’ll be very unhappy to find out that this ended because you were a shitbag.”

It should annoy me that Ronan thinks I might end up hurting my own wife, but I understand that he’s protective of his family. “She’ll be safe with me. Comfortable, even. We discussed things, and I believe we came to a reasonable arrangement.”

“Then you have my blessing.” Ronan’s smile turns wry. “Not that you give a shit.”

“Cheers to marriage.” I hold up my cup and put it back down. “One other thing before we adjourn. There’s a shipment coming in a few days.”

“New product came in last night. We’re on schedule.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your cut.”

“That’s not my issue. I’d like you to divert the trucks somewhere else. It’s a different safe location.”

Ronan goes still. I know he doesn’t like this—I wouldn’t like it either. We’re dealing in large quantities of very illegal substances, and everyone involved is extremely paranoid. A last-minute change like this, especially a large one, will set off all kinds of alarms in his mind.

“Why?” he asks, cutting straight to the heart.

“Internal issues. I’d like this change kept between us if you wouldn’t mind.”

His eyebrows raise. “This have anything to do with your grandfather visiting town?”

My jaw flexes. “How’d you know about that? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Can you do the new location or not?”

Ronan considers for a few seconds before nodding. “I’ll make it happen. Send me the address over encrypted chat.”

“Very good.” I relax slightly. We finish the meeting with a bit of small talk before Ronan leaves the coffee shop. He meets with a couple bodyguards outside and I watch as he heads down the block.

Jean walks over and takes his seat. He finishes Ronan’s coffee and makes a face. “That fucking Irishman ruins a perfectly good espresso with goddamn sugar. Absolutely revolting.”

“You can’t expect everyone to have your impeccable taste.”

“Very true.” Jean studies me for a beat. “What are you doing, Julien?”

“Finishing my coffee and thinking about my future wife.” Which is true: I’m picturing our wedding night. I’m imagining which of her little boxes I want to tick off, and how exactly I’ll make her come, over and over, screaming with bliss and shivering under my fingertips.

“You think I wasn’t listening, asshole?” Jean leans closer, lowering his voice. “The shipment. You’re diverting it.”

I meet his gaze and hold it. “The less Grandpère has control over, the better.”

“If he finds out, he’s going to be pissed.”

“Let him be angry.”

Jean’s knee jostles under the table and the cups rattle on their saucers. “It’s not just him getting mad. He’s not here forever, but if you give him reason to stick around, if you fucking provoke him⁠—”

“Grandpère will leave when he realizes that everything here is under control. He’ll get bored and wander off like he always does. Right now, he’s flexing his muscles. You’re very right, this won’t be forever.”

“You’re making trouble for yourself. First the girl, and now this.” Jean’s ugly frown turns into a smile. “What was so wrong with the Collette girl, anyway?”

“She’s a self-absorbed asshole and you know it.”

“Hot though. At least from what I remember.”

I grunt at that. He’s not wrong, Collette is a beautiful woman, but my mind is firmly on Brianne.

We leave together and I make a phone call as we head over to the car. Jean gets behind the wheel and I stand outside, my light jacket pulled up to block the wind. Brianne answers on the third ring, her voice quiet.

“Why are you calling me?” she asks.

“Good to hear from you too, mon minou.”

“Seriously, you never call. Should I be worried?”

“That depends.” I smile to myself and picture her alone in her room. “What are you wearing?”

“Knock it off. What do you want?”

“We’re getting married in three days. I’ll pick you up at your house around ten in the morning.”

She doesn’t answer right away. I hear her breathing, so she hasn’t hung up, but she’s clearly processing. “Not my house. Pick me up outside Bloody Strike. The new location that just opened.”

I want to ask her why, but decide not to complicate things. “If that’s what you want.”

“What’s the dress code?”

“Wear whatever you want to get married in. We’re having a courthouse wedding.”

“Right. Okay.” She blows out a breath and laughs nervously. “I’m not going to have to kiss you, am I? Judges don’t do that, right?”

“I’ll make sure to tell this one to include it in the ceremony.”

“Wait, no, I mean, I don’t⁠—”

“See you soon, my wife.” I hang up the phone before she can argue more. I’m smiling to myself, but it fades when I catch Jean shaking his head at me.