Sunrise Malice: Chapter 3

Rope play.

I stare at those words for a little while.

Rope play. Rope play. I try to repeat them in my head, over and over, to turn them into nonsense sounds. I want to crush the meaning out of them, so maybe my embarrassment will fade away too.

It doesn’t work. If anything, it has the opposite effect.

I picture Julien lovingly wrapping a silk rope around my wrists. I picture him whispering in my ear how beautiful I am all tied up and ready to be used. And the fucked-up part is I really, really like the thought, even if I still hate the guy and wish none of this were happening.

Instead, I agreed to come meet with him at his house. It’s an old Chicago mansion with a Tudor-style roof, a red brick front, lots of old arched windows, a gorgeous wooden front door. I’d guess it was built in the twenties for some railroad baron or something like that, and I feel completely out of place as I head up the steps and ring the bell.

A part of me wanted to turn him down when he texted me earlier. Rope play, rope play, rope play. I thought I could tell him no thanks, don’t bother, we aren’t compatible, but then my father screamed at me from the living room to get him another beer and my fingers started typing up a response without my brain’s input.

Now here I am, feeling like a moron.

I smooth my crème-colored sweater. I’m in black skinny jeans and black sneakers, trying to straddle the line between cute and casual, and knocking it out of the park, if I’m totally honest with myself. I glance around, feeling nervous, and shift from foot to foot, when the door creaks open. I expect a butler or a maid or something, but instead it’s Julien himself wearing another suit, no tie, top button undone, hair slightly messy, and looking like sin wrapped up in a silk bow.

I really shouldn’t think about getting wrapped up right now.

“Hello, mon minou,” he says as his full lips quirk into a smile.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I cross my arms and take a step back.

“Because you are like a beautiful little pussycat to me. That’s what it means, my pussycat.”

“Yeah, I’m not really a fan, so could you please stop?”

“No.” He steps aside. “Come in.”

I glance over my shoulder. My beat-up old Nissan is parked by the curb and if I ran, I could hop in the driver’s seat and get out of here. Ronan made it clear that I didn’t have to go through with this marriage if I really didn’t want to.

But all the reasons that made me consider it in the first place remain valid, and I step into a gorgeous entry hall behind the asshole Frenchman.

The place really is beautiful. High ceiling, crystal chandelier, original wood staircase polished to a gleam. Paintings hang on the walls and fresh flowers are left out beneath a mirror surrounded by a gold frame. It smells like furniture polish and cut grass with a hint of sawdust underneath, which is actually really intoxicating.

“Let’s talk in here.” Julien ducks into a door on the left. I follow him and find myself in a small sitting room. Couches, coffee table, fireplace straight ahead, and bookshelves with various knick-knacks and leather-bound volumes. He shuts the door behind me and strides toward the fireplace, rubbing his hands together. There’s a small bar cart beside it, and he pours himself a drink.

He’s nervous. It hits me all at once. He keeps glancing over my shoulder at the hallway and he’s not smiling anymore, which I think means there’s someone here he doesn’t want to see right now. I hang back, not taking a seat.

“Nice place,” I say, looking around. “You live here?”

“Yes, for the most part. I have an apartment as well downtown.” He looks at his watch, pulls out his phone, turns on the screen, and puts it back. He’s fidgeting, and a part of me kind of likes watching him suffer. “Listen, I need a favor.”

“You need a favor?” My eyebrows raise in surprise. “I didn’t know we were at the favor part of our relationship yet.”

“No time like the present.” He smirks in reply and sips his drink. It’s some kind of fancy Japanese whiskey. “My grandfather is visiting from France and he’s under the impression that you and I have already been married. When you meet him, all you have to do is refrain from correcting him. It should be easy.”

I step forward, caught between feeling shocked and pissed off. “You told him we’re already married? I never actually said I was going through with it.”

He waves a hand. “Formality. We both know this is going to happen, mon minou.”

“If you keep calling me that, I’m going to walk out of here,” I say through clenched teeth.

He comes toward me. “It will be simple. He knows we’re an arranged match and have no feelings for each other. We don’t have to kiss, hug, or even pretend like we know each other. All you have to do is wear this.” He reaches into his pocket and tosses me something.

It glitters in the light as it spins end over end. I barely manage to catch the ring before it hits the door behind me. I stare at the enormous stone with its little halo of smaller pieces, my mouth hanging open.

“Is this thing real?” I blurt out, feeling like an idiot the second the words leave my lips.

“Yes, mon minou, it’s very real, and I want it back before you leave.” He waves a hand dismissively.

I let out a choked laugh. “Of course you do.”

“I’m not asking you to play along for free. Five thousand dollars for one night. After this, we’ll discuss our arrangement further.”

I stare at him and down at the ring. Five thousand dollars for a single evening. It doesn’t seem like all that much—and it also seems like way too much.

I barely have any experience with men. I’ve had short-term boyfriends, but mostly when I was younger. Julien’s asking me to be his wife—his fake wife, and only for a single night—and that makes my heart race. It freaks me the hell out. But isn’t that the whole reason I came here?

I’m pissed that he tricked me into coming tonight. He should’ve told me up front that he needed me to play his wife, and instead he pretended like all he wanted to do was discuss our relationship. He’s manipulating me, tricking me with expensive jewelry, and offering to smooth everything over with money.

I should be livid at the bastard.

I slip the ring down my finger, my hand shaking.

All I have to do is play a role tonight.

He’s right—if his grandfather knows we’re basically strangers already, it won’t even be hard. I just smile and nod and say we’re actually married even if there’s no piece of paper to prove it. Then I walk away with five grand, which won’t change my life, but it’ll be a really good start.

“What if I don’t want to marry you after this?”

His expression hardens. “We’ll figure that out if the problem arises.”

“You seem pretty confident that I’m going to be your wife.”

“I suspect you need me as much as I need you.” He tilts his head, staring at me with that piercing glare. It sends a shiver down my spine.

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

“No, I don’t, but we can change that, mon minou.”

I chew my lip, staring at the ring.

It’s just one night. Five thousand dollars is more than fair. All I have to do is be his wife for one night.

Or pretend to be his wife, anyway.

“What if I don’t want to do it?” I whisper, heart racing into my throat.

“Then take off the ring and leave. I’ll find someone else.”

I don’t move. Why am I even hesitating right now? He’s asking for a single evening when I was already seriously considering getting involved with him long-term. Maybe at the end of this, I’ll find out he’s not so bad and going through with the arrangement isn’t such a terrible idea after all.

Or maybe I’ll realize he’s a total asshole, which is what I fully expect, and walk away with an obscenely expensive ring.

“Fine,” I say, nodding at him. This is the right thing to do. I mean, I’d be stupid to turn it down.

But the smile on Julien’s face makes me wonder if I’m making an enormous mistake.

“Grandpère’s expecting us in a few minutes. We have time though, if you’d like to check one of those boxes off?” He pretends to consider as he unlocks his phone. “There’s always the chance we might get caught. Perhaps one of your voyeur fantasies.”

I glare at him, refusing to rise to his bait. “Keep making jokes and I’ll leave. You can pretend like I’m easy to replace all you want, but I think that’s not true. I think you’re a little desperate right now.”

His smile tightens. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He comes toward me, walking slowly. I look up at him and feel a chill in my spine. “Understand something. You and I, we’re doing this because we have to. You clearly don’t like me, and honestly, I don’t feel anything at all for you. That’s how we’ll keep it. If you’re smart and you stay in line, you’ll walk away from this relationship with a lot of money. If not⁠—”

He shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter to him.

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.