Sunrise Malice: Chapter 25

My headache is mostly gone the next morning. I feel decent on the car ride into Hayes territory. Not perfect, but better. Julien took me into the hospital and the doctor did a whole bunch of tests, all of which came out clean, and I got to spend a little time with Kim before Julien hustled me back to the mansion.

The vibes are tense, but Julien got what he wanted.

We shared a bed.

He didn’t touch me last night. I think he’s worried he might hurt me or something. I kept on my side and listened to him breathing, not really able to sleep. The mansion feels like a prison camp—there are guards everywhere, dozens of them patrolling the halls, and half of them are staring at the other half like they all plan on shooting each other soon. I don’t know what to make of it, and Julien wasn’t interested in explaining.

At least now I’m back on familiar ground. Julien parks out front of Ronan’s house. It’s Monday morning and the breakfast is small compared to the weekends, mostly just intimates and inner-circle members. I still feel weirdly nervous as I walk up the steps and head inside.

These people are supposed to be my family. Not my blood family—but close enough. I grew up with the guys here, the cousins and the uncles, and I have a lot of fond memories of Hayes cookouts and parties.

But now they look at me like I’m a stranger.

Maybe I am. Maybe I’ve changed that much in the last few weeks now that I’m finally out from underneath my father’s abuse that they don’t recognize the woman I’ve become.

Ronan’s in a meeting when we arrive, which means we’re forced to wait in the dining room. Julien puts his chair immediately next to mine, so close that our thighs are touching, and he stares protectively at anyone who happens to walk past.

“You don’t need to act like a guard dog, you know,” I tell him, whispering so nobody can overhear. “We’re safe, remember?”

“I’m not trying to protect you from Dusan right now.”

“You think someone in my own family will hurt me?”

He keeps his eyes trained on the cousins sitting around the TV not far away. “I think these people treated you like shit. They let you live with an abuser and they blame you for something your brother did. Then they went ahead and sold you off to me.”

I bristle slightly. “I chose this. Ronan didn’t force me.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re talking like you’re some horrible punishment.”

His eyebrows raise and he glances at me. “You’re saying I’m not?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“My god, that’s the most wonderful compliment you’ve ever given me.”

I elbow him in the ribs. “Now you’re just being a prick.”

“You know what I’m saying.” He leans forward and stares down one of the younger cousins. “These pricks never treated you the way you deserved and you still call them your family. In my world, loyalty is earned.”

“Is that what you think about your grandfather?”

He stiffens, and I can tell that was the wrong thing to say. I’m worried he’s going to explode at me, but instead, his shoulders slump and he leans back, arms crossed over his chest, staring thoughtfully at the table.

“It must look strange to you,” he says, jaw set in a tight line. “But Grandpère saved my life. He wasn’t always such a bastard.”

“Does that mean you owe him your undying loyalty?”

“It means I owe him something, to a point. Grandpère plucked me off the streets, he trained me in his business, he gave me all the skills I have today. Without him, I’d be dead or homeless. What did any of these people ever do for you?”

I let that sink in and glance around the room. There’s Cousin Jimmy—he gave me a My Little Pony doll for my fifth birthday. And there’s Uncle Jeremy—he taught me how to shoot darts. I have dozens of memories like that stretching back over my life, little moments at family parties, at breakfasts like this one, moments of humanity and normalcy, going back before the bad shit with Cormac and my dad got going in earnest.

“I grew up with these people,” I say, trying to make him understand.

“Then why don’t they come over and talk to you?” His gaze is dark and hard as he finally takes me in. “Why are they sitting over there pretending like we’re not here if you’re supposed to be their family?”

“I’m guessing you sitting there like a hungry wolf doesn’t help.”

He shakes his head, frustrated. “They’re only family when it’s convenient. And before you say anything, you’re right, I probably do need to look in the mirror before I start casting judgment on you.”

I don’t have the chance to reply. Ronan emerges from the back hallway and beckons for us to follow him back into his office. Julien goes first and the two men greet each other with some familiarity, and it’s strange how close to the center of power I’ve managed to drift. Back before I married Julien, I never would’ve been anywhere near a meeting like this; now I’m at the heart of it.

Ronan’s office is small but comfortable with earnest, family-centric decorations. Books line the shelves and pictures of various aunts and cousins are scattered around old leather-bound volumes. There’s a couch against one wall, two chairs, and a desk.

Ronan’s wife, Valentina, is sitting on the couch. She’s absolutely stunning: tan skin, dark hair, full lips, deep brown eyes, and a gorgeous figure. She’s in a creme blouse and dark slacks, and looks so incredibly chic that I feel plain and boring by comparison. She greets me and Julien as we enter, and I can tell she’s familiar with Julien already, though I’ve barely seen her from a distance and never spoken to her before. From what I hear, she’s deeply involved in the Group’s activities, and even something of a genius when it comes to planning illegal activities.

We get settled, Valentina on her couch, and Julien and I on the chairs.

“I heard about what happened,” Ronan says, looking at me. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

“Thanks to Julien. He saved our asses.”

Ronan grunts and leans back in his chair. “I’ve also been keeping tabs on Kim’s progress. Whatever she needs, you know the Group will provide it.”

“I have that handled,” Julien says quickly. I’m worried the two men might start dick measuring but instead Ronan just nods like he understands.

“This business with Dusan is already ugly,” Ronan says.

Julien grunts in reply. “That’s an understatement.”

“You killed his favorite cousin.”

“His favorite? Nobody told me about that.” Julien looks unhappy as he leans back in the chair. “Dusan crossed plenty of lines himself.”

“But you still started this damn conflict.” Ronan glares at Julien.

“Don’t blame him too much.” Valentina interrupts and seems to soften her husband’s anger. “From what I hear, there’s another power in the French world these days?”

“My Grandpère is visiting from Marseille. Technically, he’s the head of our organization.” Julien says this as simply as he can but I hear the emotion in his voice. There’s a deep note of frustration written all over him, and I’m surprised at how adept I’ve become at reading his moods.

“Technically?” Valentina asks.

“I’ve been running my organization with a lot of autonomy for a long time.”

“His grandfather is the reason this war got started,” I say, and Julien shoots me a hard look. “What? You weren’t going to tell them, but it’s the truth.”

Reluctantly, Julien tells them about how his grandfather went behind his back and orchestrated the initial attack on Dusan’s facility. “If it were up to me, I would have left things as they were.”

Valentina and Ronan share a loaded look that I can’t quite interpret, and I have a brief stab of jealousy. They seem to have a really deep and meaningful relationship, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have anything like that in my life. I feel something growing between me and Julien, in the way I can read his emotions and how I can almost guess at what his intentions are just from his body language, but I don’t know if that’ll bloom into something more or if it’s just that I’m slowly getting to know him.

And it doesn’t matter. I have to remember that I’m not married to Julien because I love him.

While Ronan clearly loves Valentina—it’s obvious by the way he looks at her and almost defers to her opinions.

“In general, I’m not a fan of starting wars,” Ronan says and gestures at Julien.

“Says the guy that slaughtered a motorcycle gang not all that long ago.”

Ronan grimaces. “I wasn’t given much choice.”

“Then you understand how I’m feeling. Grandpère might’ve backed me into this situation, but it isn’t like I can walk away from it, especially not anymore. Dusan dropped a bomb on my fucking doorstep. He nearly killed my wife.”

Ronan glances at me. “While I appreciate the chivalry⁠—”

“If you’re about to say something about our arrangement, you should watch yourself,” Julien growls and I have to put a hand on his knee to make him calm down.

I glance over and Valentina’s staring at us thoughtfully. She’s got a little smile on her face, and I quickly pull my hand back from Julien, afraid of what she’s got running through her head right now.

“I’m just saying that the Hayes Group isn’t in the war business right now. We went through too much with Cormac’s betrayal and everyone’s too raw.”

“War is bad for the city,” Julien says, finally getting to the argument we came here to make. “With the help of your people, we can finish off Dusan and end this before it gets to the point that the police are getting involved and the Biancos start throwing around their weight. If you recall, we have an alliance now, and typically allies help each other.”

Ronan’s jaw works. “I was under the impression our friendship was a business alignment.”

“And I was under the impression that you weren’t a fucking coward,” Julien snaps back.

“You French piece of shit,” Ronan says, half standing. “I never wanted to marry anyone in my family off to you, but you gave me no choice, and now I’m fucking stuck with you.”

“You think I like this? Coming to you and asking for help? I’d rather cut off my own fucking hand.”

“Then go ahead and do it,” Ronan snarls.

“Boys, that’s enough.” Valentina’s voice cuts them both off. I grab Julien’s elbow, tugging on him and giving him a serious look.

“Knock it off, asshole,” I whisper loud enough for everyone to hear.

He grimaces and glares at me, but Valentina speaks before he can.

“I know we all have some history in this room. I mean, Julien, you did kind of try to kill me.”

I lean back and stare at him. “You did what?”

He holds out his hands. “I had bad information.”

“You mean you made bad assumptions,” Valentina says, grinning at him. “But it’s okay, water under the bridge and all that. I mention it because I’m the last person that would want to actually help you with something.”

“That’s fair,” Julien mutters.

“And yet—” Valentina looks at Ronan. “I think he’s right. Dusan’s not going to stop until both Julien and Brianne are dead, and that’s an unacceptable outcome to me. If we let them duke it out for a while and wait until we’re forced to intervene, by then it might be too late. We have a chance to tip things right now.”

Ronan rubs his face with one hand. “You are a magnificent pain in my ass, Julien.”

“Same to you,” Julien says in response.

“Set aside your differences.” Valentina’s watching her husband very carefully. He’s looking right back, and some wordless communication passes between them.

Ronan curses and sighs. “Looks like we’re helping,” he says and points at Julien. “But you better not make me regret this shit.”

“So long as you keep listening to your wife, who happens to be much smarter than you are, everything will be fine.”

“Please don’t misunderstand this situation,” Valentina says, crossing her arms. “I still think you’re a prick, Julien.”

“This was unpleasant but productive.” Julien stands up. “We’re staying at the Moreau mansion, so don’t bother reaching out to my apartment.”

“I heard it’s mostly matchsticks these days.”

“Smithereens,” Julien confirms. “I’ll reach out to coordinate.” He turns to leave and I get up to follow him.

“Brianne,” Valentina says. “Can I have a word with you before you go?”

I hesitate and glance at Julien. Which is strange: why the hell do I need his permission to talk to the wife of my family’s boss? But for some reason, I look to him anyway, and Julien just nods.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” he says and touches my hip. I don’t know when we started these little physical gestures, but for some reason, I like it.

Julien leaves the room. Ronan makes an excuse about checking on his mother in the kitchen, and I’m left alone with Valentina. She comes over and sits in the chair Julien was in a moment ago.

“I want you to be honest with me,” Valentina says, crossing her legs and studying me. “Is he treating you okay?”

“Honestly?” I take a deep breath and blow it out. “He’s been good to me.”

She nods like she expected that. “Julien comes off like a bastard, but I don’t think he’s a bad person at heart.”

“He tried to kill you though? I mean, is that serious?”

“He wanted revenge for a friend.” She waves a hand, smiling to herself. “It’s complicated. Don’t worry about it. But really, I want you to tell me if you ever feel uncomfortable with Julien.”

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “It’s nice that you’re offering, but honestly, he’s been nothing but good to me.”

“That’s good to hear. You two seem like you’re getting along.” Her eyebrows raise and she grins at me.

“Uh, I don’t know if I’d go that far, but, uh—” I clear my throat and try to smile back. “Yeah, we’re getting along.”

“Here, give me your phone. I’ll give you my personal number.” I hand it over, and she types it in before sending herself a text. “There, now if you need me, you can reach out.”

“Thanks. I mean, this is really nice of you.”

“And, Brianne, I just want to say, I’m so sorry about everything. With your brother, your dad, this family, I just—” She falters, her smile fading away, and she looks down at her hands. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”

I don’t know why, but that hits me hard. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s right—these families, they’re not supposed to break us.

They’re supposed to be support, warmth, even love. But ever since my brother spiraled deeper into the Hayes Group, I’ve experienced nothing but pain, again and again, getting worse and worse as the years went by.

We hug and I leave before I can start crying my eyes out. I find Julien waiting near his car, glaring at the house like he wants to burn it down. His expression softens when I come out and walk up to him, and he holds out a hand toward me. I take it, not sure why, and let him pull me closer to him.

And all at once, that worry and fear I felt inside, the bad memories and the ugly knot of trauma I’m always carrying around in the back of my head, it all fades. It doesn’t go away—I don’t think it ever will—but it lightens enough that I can smile back at him, even though a minute ago I wanted to sob my eyes out.

“Valentina thinks you’re in love with me,” I tell him, trying not to smile.

His mouth opens, but instead of some snarky retort, he says nothing. And I see so much he wants to keep hidden in that very brief moment of hesitation.

But then he’s back to himself. “I’m in love with parts of you,” he says, his palm gripping my ass.

I yelp in surprise and slap his chest. He grins, grabbing harder, until I wriggle free. “Dickhead,” I mumble, getting into the car, cheeks burning.

But if he does that again, I’m not sure I’d move his hand next time.