Chapter 38 No Expiration Date
NO EXPIRATION DATE
brIAR
Now
Koen keeps his word, and after an uncomfortably silent car ride home, we arrive outside of my apartment. He escorts me upstairs, leaving his men in the lobby.
He doesn’t say anything as I fumble with the keys, my hands are shaking so badly it’s a struggle to get the keys; into each of the three locks needed to open the door. He waits silently at my back with his hands in his pockets.
Koen stays by the door when we finally get inside, scanning the length of my pathetic excuse of an apartment.
I really wish I’d picked up more before leaving for work tonight.
There are dishes in the kitchen sink, wrappers on the counter, and some of the living room pillows are still on the floor from earlier when Remi was playing The Floor is Lava.
The apartment building might be shit, but Lily and I have done what we can to make our space as cute as possible.
The exposed brick of the old mill building helps to lend a bit of charm.
A few thrifted rugs cover up the most worn areas on the hardwood floors.
The living room is big enough to get some dance practice in if we move around the furniture.
We have a basic, but plush, couch and a super comfortable reading chair we scored off a neighbor when they moved out last year.
The television might be small, but the bookshelf is overflowing.
The thrift store sells used books for $1, and we go a couple times a month.
Bright and colorful children’s books line the bottom shelf, easily accessible to Remi.
Fuck. The children’s books.
As inconspicuously as I can, I move so I’m standing in between Koen and the books, blocking them from his line of sight and hoping he doesn’t notice.
Not that he’s probably all that interested in what I’m reading.
Quickly, I scan the rest of the small space, looking for anything else of Remi’s that might have been left out.
My eyes flick to the pictures of her on the fridge.
One of her in her pink leotard and tutu, pouting with her arms folded at the ballet studio; one of Lily, Remi, and I laughing with ice cream cones ; and the most damning one of all, a close-up of Remi sticking out her tongue at the camera, her round, green-brown eyes wide and clear.
Koen’s still standing by the door, his back to the kitchen and the fridge. It’s late, it’s dark, maybe he won’t notice.
My eyes go to him and he’s not looking at the fridge—he’s looking at me.
There’s nothing soft about the man standing before me. He’s all sharp edges and quiet menace, but the dark shadows in his eyes seem to lighten when they meet mine.
I clear my throat, breaking some of the tension in the room. “What do you want, Koen?” My words are slow, careful, and I don’t dare take my eyes off of the Irish King. Despite his assurances he won’t hurt me, I have no reason to believe anything he says.
Speaking his name appears to break him out of whatever thoughts he’d been lost in, and he steps further into the living room space and away from the kitchen.
“You owe me a favor.”
“A favor?” My eyes widen with confusion and I shake my head, crossing my arms across my chest. I’m still in the fucking lingerie from the club. “I don’t owe you any favors.”
He picks up the book lying on the coffee table, examining the cover and spine before setting it back down.
“You don’t remember?” He clicks his tongue as though disappointed.
A smirk appears on his face and my heart rate picks up.
“A few years ago, you promised me a favor if I helped you out of a certain situation?”
The blood drains from my face at his mention of that night.
“You can’t be serious,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “You can’t call in a favor now. That was over four years ago!”
He just watches me, his expression unchanging, a predatory gleam in his eye as he takes another step closer. The apartment is starting to feel even smaller than it is.
“Did you not give that favor freely?” he asks, and I feel like I’m walking into a trap, a web he’s spun just for me when I give him my answer.
“Yes, but—”
“Was there an expiration date agreed upon for that favor?”
My palms grow slick and my arms tighten around me. He’s got me there. “No, but again—”
“Then you still owe me a favor.” He’s close now, too close, within arm’s distance, and I catch a whiff of his dark citrus scent
He stops. His head tilts to the side as he takes in the sight of me again. “I’m here, Briar Rose, to collect on that favor.”
I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat, the weight of his words falling heavy onto my shoulders. “What do you want from me?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice level, though I fear it betrays me.
His dark eyes are locked on me, books forgotten. It’s only the deep intensity of his gaze that holds me in place.
“You,” he breathes.
My lips part in shock but no words spill out. My knees weak under that gaze of his.
“You’re close with Giovanni.” He clears his throat before continuing on.
I open my mouth in protest but quickly shut it when he shoots me a warning glare.
Do not interrupt me.
“You’ve already been taken once. I think you have some information I might find… useful.”
He wants to interrogate me.
“But mostly, I just need a girl to play the part and be mine, help me to convince Giovanni, and the people he works for that I’m one of them. I need access to that auction. To their list of buyers.”
“I won’t help you with that.” My anger, making me brave. “I won’t help you traffic more girls.” I steel my spine and set my jaw, hoping he can see the resolve in my eyes.
There’s a wild gleam in his when he closes the gap between us, and despite my trembling knees, I don’t back down, tilting my chin so that I hold his eye. He towers over me. I always seem to forget just how tall he is.
I steel my gaze, ready to take whatever comes out of his mouth next, but I’m unprepared when he says, “Good. I don’t want you to.”
My voice stutters. “I—I’m confused.”
“I don’t want you to help me traffic more girls.” His face is serious. “I want you to help me stop it.”
“Stop it?” I blink at him, not quite sure what to believe.
“But back at the club…” I trail off, searching his face for any sign he’s trying to manipulate me.
But his face is stone. I don’t know what to believe.
I don’t know Koen very well but I do know his world—men who will say anything to get what they want.
“How do I know I can trust you?” I say finally.
He shrugs, picking up a lock of my hair and letting it run through his fingers as if he couldn’t help himself.
“You don’t.”
I stare at him, long seconds passing us by. “Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice, Briar.” His voice is low, and the way he’s looking at me…
I can’t quite read the look on his face.
“You can stay with me and we can further discuss terms, or I can bring you back to Giovanni.” He shrugs, but I still see the violent gleam in his eye when he says Giovanni’s name.
Not really a choice… I think, weighing which of the two is more of a threat.
Koen checks the time. It’s after two.
“You need sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Someone will be outside.” He heads for the door.
Like a guard?
“So I’m not allowed to leave?”
He turns, his hand still on the knob. “You’re mine now, Briar Rose.” I shiver at the way he says my name. “And I protect what’s mine.”
Considering the matter finished, he turns the knob.
“Yours … temporarily,” I correct.
He freezes, not turning around, though I see his head tilt slightly back in my direction. Rolling his shoulders, he steps fully out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.
I sigh, finally alone.
A deal with the Devil? Sounds too good to be true. Won’t cost much… only my soul.