Chapter 40 But I Brought Donuts…
BUT I brOUGHT DONUTS…
brIAR
Now
Koen keeps to his word and my apartment is quiet for the night. Not that I’m able to sleep… After a never-ending night of restless tossing and turning, I finally throw in the towel and shuffle into the kitchen around seven a.m.
First thing I did after Koen left last night was purge the apartment of photos of Remi.
Her toys and books are all safely locked away in her room. The photos, in a box tucked deep into her closet.
I spent the night in her room last night, missing her and Lily. Fighting the urge to escape down the fire escape and hitchhike out to Lake Placid just so I could hold her.
Before I have a chance to fill up the coffee pot with water, there’s a knock at my door.
I steal a panicked glance at my own reflection in the microwave; no makeup, though my hair isn’t terrible—the curls from last night falling into loose, but tangled, waves. And I’m still in shorts, wearing a t-shirt that’s three times too big for me with no bra.
Finger combing the tangles from my hair, I lift onto the tips of my toes to check the peephole… finding Koen on the other end.
I take a deep breath and brace myself as best I can for whatever’s about to come.
I abandon my hair, letting it stay wild. He wanted me… he’s got me, tangles and all.
Pulling the door open, I lean casually against the frame while crossing my arms, blocking the way in.
“Well, well, well, would you look at that? He does know how to use a door.”
Koen’s eyes narrow and he lets out a grunt of acknowledgement, his gaze falling to my bare legs before finding my face again. “Good morning to you, too.”
He waits for me to invite him in, but I don’t, seizing the opportunity to study him instead.
He’s dressed casually, in a pair of black jeans and boots, and a faded leather jacket over a dark gray henley. His hair is darker than usual, the dirty blonde locks tamed down, still wet from a shower. The scent of his body wash begins to permeate the apartment along with…
“Is that coffee?”
Some people are addicted to drugs, but me… I’m addicted to coffee, and Koen’s holding a tray of two cups from my favorite coffee shop two streets over.
He pulls the tray back toward him, and I track it with my eyes.
“Depends… Can I come in?”
I pretend to think about it, but who am I kidding? There’s little I won’t do to get my caffeine fix. “Fine.” I retreat back into my apartment, leaving the door open behind me.
Koen steps inside, shutting the door behind him.
Rubbing my eyes, I slide my ass onto one of the island stools and watch as he makes himself at home in my kitchen. Setting down the tray of drinks and a plain brown bag, I hadn’t noticed in his other hand.
Without a word, he slides one of the cups to me before claiming the other for himself.
My need for caffeine is at war with my sense of self-preservation, and I eye the drink I was so desperate for just a second ago suspiciously.
What if he put something in it?
Not that he’d need to. Between his height, his muscles, and what I’m guessing is a morally grey compass, he could very easily overpower me. He already has.
Koen sips from his own coffee cup before catching me staring down at mine with a look of apprehension.
“It’s not going to bite you.”
“It might.” I eye both him and the cup with newfound suspicion. My brain slow from lack of sleep and caffeine.
He lets out a sigh that sounds an awful lot like exasperation before reaching for my drink, and taking a sip out of it before placing it back down in front of me.
Crisis averted. I reach for the cup, finally getting my fix, while his dark eyes assess me.
“I think you and I both know, I don’t need to drug you to fuck you.”
I nearly choke on the coffee in my mouth, and he shoots me a wicked little grin and a wink before pushing the paper bag my way.
Feigning interest in the bag, I ignore the way my body heats. That look he gave me awakens something deep down in my core. His words, that wink…
Koen clears his throat, leaning on my counter on his elbows, confirming he’s still hot as sin. He’s quiet, watching me from the other side of the island as I take another sip of my coffee.
“Wait,” I pause, pulling the rim of the cup away from my face. “This is a caramel latte,” I say, stunned, looking back in Koen’s direction. His expression remains unchanged. “How did you—?”
“I remembered.” He drains the rest of the coffee from his own cup, tossing it into the trash by the edge of the island before changing the subject. “I thought we’d start by going over what you know that may be of interest.”
He keeps talking but I’m no longer paying attention.
He remembered? That I liked caramel lattes? I don’t even remember telling him that…
“Briar.”
“Yeah?” My name snaps me from my thoughts.
Koen gives me a look when he has to repeat the question I ignored. “How long have you worked at Wonderland?”
“Uhm.” I think back. “About one year. As a waitress.” Since Remi’s first asthma attack—but I withhold that last bit. Need to know.
“Why?” The question is simple, but loaded, and I sit my cup down on the counter, curling my fingers around it. Savoring the warmth on my cold hands.
“Money got tight,” I admit finally, averting my eyes and giving him a shrug. “I did what I had to do.”
I peek up at him. But to my surprise, there’s no judgement in his eyes, and he nods as if he understands.
“That’s when you borrowed money from Giovanni?”
“Mhm.” I sip at my coffee, pulling open the mystery bag and my jaw drops at the sight of donuts inside.
“And you defaulted?”
The question has me shifting anxiously in my seat, but a quick glance at Koen reveals no emotions—no judgement.
“Not my intention,” I start. He arches a brow, and my defense flares.
“I broke my ankle, couldn’t waitress and couldn’t dance.
With an eight-week recovery, it wasn’t hard to fall behind,” I bite out, peering up at him to gauge his reaction, but he’s just staring at me.
If I’m not mistaken, his jaw seems tenser.
“By all means, continue with your interrogation.”
“This isn’t an interrogation.”
“Are you sure? Because it feels an awful lot like an interrogation to me.”
“I brought donuts.”
I blink up at him. “Are you saying this can’t be an interrogation because you brought donuts?”
“Yes,” he confirms, reaching into the bag and biting into a Boston Creme.
“Pretty sure cops and donuts are synonymous.”
He shakes his head. “Cops wouldn’t give you donuts if they were interrogating you.”
“And how would you know? Spend some time in an interrogation room?” My tone is teasing but his answer is immediate.
“Yes.”
I immediately regret the question, and a tense silence fills the room.
“Oh.”
Koen pushes up off the island, rising to his full height.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, you’re free to go about your day. I’ll pick you up later tonight.”
“Tonight?” I ask warily before adding, “I’m supposed to work.”
Koen’s gaze darkens and I resist the urge to shrink back in my chair. “Where?” The word comes out as more of a growl than anything else.
“The club,” I reply, softly.
“You don’t work there anymore.”
My mouth drops.
“While you’re mine, you’re only working for me.”
Annoyance flares at the audacity he has thinking he can just dictate my whole life now. “I have to work! And I have classes to teach at the Conservatory.”
“Cancel them.” His phone chimes and his attention drops to it. His words coming out like an afterthought, not realizing I’m growing more and more irritable by the second, and how quickly I’m starting to spiral.
“I can’t just cancel them! It’s my job,and I need the money. I can’t afford to—”
“I’m fucking paying you.” His gaze snaps up from the screen of his phone, his grip on it tight, like he’s losing his patience.
I blink at him. “How much?” It’s a bold question but I’ve got my priorities.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s almost dry now, and he messes it up while letting out a deep breath, looking out the window like he’d rather be doing anything else other than having to talk to me.
“How much do you want?”
“Ten thousand, seven hundred,” I say without thinking.
That gets his attention. “Ten thousand dollars?” He stares at me, and I nod.
“And seven hundred,” I say, doubling down. Standing by that number despite the look on his face. Enough for Remi’s medication.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Ten thousand, seven hundred dollars, and I’ll be your willing little slave for two weeks.” I don’t stop to think of all the ways I could live to regret those words…
Koen’s eyes flash and I have to fight the urge to run and hide under the covers of my bed.
“A month,” he counters, and I chew my lip. Remi will be home in two weeks. There’s no way I can keep her a secret from Koen if he’s still around by then.
“Three weeks.” I lift my chin and narrow my gaze, staring him down. “No club and no lessons, but I can’t compromise my studio and rehearsal time. I have a showcase coming up. I have to be able to practice.”
“Fine,” he says, leaving me shocked. His attention drops back to his phone, no longer interested in me. “Three weeks. You’ll get the ten thousand… seven hundred,” he adds when I look at him expectantly, “at the end. Assuming you deliver.”
“Okay, and what do I have to do?”
He looks up at me and the corner of his mouth ticks up.
“Whatever I want.”