Chapter 60 Every Good Fairy Tale Needs a Ball – Briar
EVERY GOOD FAIRY TALE NEEDS A BALL
brIAR
I wake up in Koen’s bed.
Again.
After everything that happened last night, Koen insisted I come home with him. He assured me he would take care of everything: the broken glass, the lock, the body. All of it will be gone by morning, and I would be safer with him.
By the time he carried me out to the car, I was numb, emotionally spent, and completely hollowed out. I fell asleep in his arms somewhere along the drive back to the loft. Only to wake back up after he carefully tucked me into his bed.
But when he turned to leave…
Panic set in. I didn’t want to be alone, so my fingers caught his wrist before I could think.
He stopped, turned back slowly, gazing down into my eyes.
Neither of us said anything. Unable to form the words I need to say, I tugged lightly on his wrist. He stared at me for another minute before he sighed, pulled off his shirt, and slid under the covers with me.
Without a word, he pulled me against his chest, the warmth grounding me, and I drifted back to sleep to the soft steady rhythm of his fingers tracing lazy patterns across my back.
A phone is ringing.
Koen groans, reaching blindly to the nightstand to take the call. Not yet realizing I’m awake, he slips out from under me, dressing quickly while grunting out quick answers over the phone.
“No, we’re moving the drop.” My eyes peek open just as he slides a fresh pair of boxers over a remarkably fine ass.
“Port 17, Monday, nine p.m. sharp.” Jeans follow, and I chew my lip, debating whether or not I should try convincing him to take them back off again.
“Yeah,” he mutters, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “I’m on my way.”
Our eyes meet, and I smile hesitantly from under the protection of the comforter.
For a moment, he only stares, his gaze lingering on my face like he’s memorizing every detail, as if waiting to see if I’ll disappear.
“Morning,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth ebbing into a soft smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay.” I grip the edges of the blanket just a little bit tighter.
“I have to go take care of a few things, but you should get some more sleep. You have to be at the gala early, right?”
I nod, finding it hard to form actual words with the truth burning holes in my tongue.
“You can get ready here. I had the guys grab some of your stuff, I’ll have Mac drive you over.”
“You’re not coming?” I ask, feeling… disappointed, my gaze dropping to my hands.
He steps closer, and two fingers lift my chin until I’m staring into those shadowed eyes of his. “I’ll be there. I promise.” He kisses me lightly on the forehead before letting me go.
My eyes soften, and I feel myself relax as I dip my chin.
He turns to leave, and a wave of anxiety creeps down my spine.
“Wait, Koen?”
“Yeah?” He stops by the door, turning back and looking at me expectantly. I swallow, trying to work up the nerve. He tilts his head after a few more seconds when I am silent.
“Sorry,” I apologize, feeling like an idiot. “I just—I was hoping…” I try again, my voice growing increasingly shaky. “We need to—” I swallow again, but the words just get stuck in my throat, and I exhale in defeat.
“We need to talk, I know.” His phone buzzes again, and he glances down at it quickly. “I can’t—not right now—but I promise we’ll talk later. Okay?”
I nod, relief flooding through me at the thought of having a little more time.
“Okay.”
I sip my champagne, my eyes scanning the room for probably the hundredth time.
He’s late.
I hear my name and sigh, schooling my face and straightening my shoulders back before walking over with a smile to greet yet another patron.
It’s been the same copy and paste interaction over the last hour.
I thank them for coming, and for their generous donation; I answer questions about myself and ballet, and comment on how well showcase rehearsals have been going, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t help my gaze from drifting over the room.
He said he’d be here.
The Conservatory really spared no expense for the winter gala. The venue reminds me of something out of a fairy tale; crystal chandeliers hang from the high arched ceilings overhead, ornately carved columns line the room, while a string quartet plays all the classics in the corner.
Everyone is dressed to the nines. The room drips of old money and generational wealth. The Delacroix Winter Gala is not an event to be missed by the Boston elite.
Koen really came in clutch with the dress he bought me. I found it hanging in the bathroom this morning with the rest of my things.
Soft, midnight blue silk—its color appearing to change depending on the lighting—could almost be described as black, as it hugs the curves of my body and pools around my feet.
Thin silk straps criss-cross across my back, leaving it mostly exposed, which gives me a little anxiety over the whip marks, though they have healed over into thin white scars.
The slit cut high up my left leg is a not-so-subtle reminder of exactly who picked the dress out.
The glittery silver heels I found in the bottom of the bag pair well with it, and so had the silver Celtic knot necklace Koen had given me last week, so I left it on, not that I really have anything to swap it out with. I’d pawned any jewelry worth a cent years ago.
After spending nearly an hour greeting patrons in the hallway, the dancers are dismissed to go enjoy the party with everyone else.
I know Koen told me he had bought a table, but nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what I see when I reach our assigned table thirteen.
“Mystery girl!”
I take a deep breath and step up to the table. In a shockingly gentlemanly display, Liam stands, pulling out the chair next to him before ushering me into it.
“Err—thank you,” I say, remembering my manners once seated, finding myself staring across the table at Koen’s other brother, Aidan, and the girl he has at his side. She’s smiling at me.
“Mystery Girl, you remember Aidan.” I give him a nod of acknowledgement. “And I don’t think you’ve met little Kostalova.”
Aidan sits up in his seat, elbowing Liam hard in the ribs.
“Ow, fuck Ace,” Liam curses, lowering his voice after drawing attention from the table next to us. “Bloody hell, sorry. It’s going to take some getting used to, okay?”
Aidan just glowers at him, and I stare wide-eyed at the two of them.
Recovering, Liam clears his throat and puts a smile back on his face. “Sorry, that’s Rory.” He points at the girl again, who’s desperately trying not to laugh. “AKA the new Mrs. O’Rourke.”
My eyes widen further when I realize that this is Rory.
I take her in; she’s pretty, like really pretty.
Her honey-blonde hair is in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck, and she’s wearing a gorgeous pale silvery blue dress that nearly matches her eyes; her cheeks are round and full of color, and she looks… happy.
She doesn’t look like she’s spent weeks chained up in the Irish Devil’s basement. What Filip and Dominick from the Polish mafia had suggested Aidan had been doing to her… I shiver just thinking about it.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” Rory says sweetly while throwing a pointed look at Liam, who throws up his hands in defeat while tossing his napkin on the table.
“Briar,” I say, hiding a laugh.
“Nice to meet you, Briar.”
“You know you two have a lot in common?” Liam says, gesturing between Rory and me.
“We do?” I ask, looking at the petite blonde curiously.
Liam leans back in seat, “Yeah, Rory’s a figure skater, Briar does ballet, you’re both sassy, and both of you were kidnapped by O’Rourke men.”
My jaw drops in shock and Aidan elbows his brother again, but it does nothing to deter the shit-eating grin on Liam’s face as he keeps his eyes on me.
“So, Briar,” he says, shoving his brother away from him, laughing before leaning onto the table with clasped hands to look at me. “You and Koen… what exactly is going on there?”
My cheeks heat and I lock up. “I—I’m not sure—”
“Like, are you two dating?” he presses. “Just talking… enemies with benefits… situationship? Because he’s been acting weird as fuck lately, and—”
Aidan kicks him under the table.
“Ouch!”
“Leave her alone,” Aidan hisses.
“It’s just a question…” Liam says. “And you know you want to know, too!”
My eyes connect with Rory’s when she clears her throat. “Well, I was just about to make a quick run to the powder room, Briar…” She stands, giving me a pointed look. “Do you want to come with?”
I’m already up and out of my chair before she’s finished her sentence.
“Can I come too?” Liam pipes up, and I think Aidan’s eyes roll into the back of his head.
“No,” Rory smirks. “Girls only.”
Liam sinks back into his chair, looking genuinely disappointed.
Rory links arms with me, and once we’re a safe distance from the table, she leans in. “Don’t mind them. They’re harmless.”
“The literal Irish Devil siblings, harmless? Yeah, okay,” I huff out, automatically, before snapping my mouth shut and turning toward her, hoping to god I didn’t just offend her.
Rory just snorts. “Okay, maybe not entirely harmless,” she amends, and we both laugh.
We step into the bathroom, and I take care of some needs before washing my hands at the sink. Rory steps out to join me. I glance around; it’s just the two of us in here.
I look over at Rory, wanting to ask her a question, but my nerves are getting the better of me.
She notices when she grabs a hand towel. “You okay?” she asks, eyeing me with concern as she dries her hands.
I swallow. “Yeah, I… Can I ask you something?”
The corner of her mouth ticks up. “Depends…”
“You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal, but… is it—is it true Aidan kidnapped you?”
Her eyebrows rise, her blue-gray eyes going wide, but she doesn’t look offended—rather, she looks amused. “So, technically… yes.”
“Technically?”
“Okay, he totally kidnapped me, but he never hurt me, and he did let me go.”
“He let you go?”
“He did, but only for me to run right back.” She smiles softly.
“Why would you do that?” I ask, genuinely trying to understand.
“I was in danger and didn’t have anywhere else to go… I know it sounds crazy, but when I was with Aidan… even though he kidnapped me, when I was with him, I felt safe—protected. He and his brothers went to war for me, and I—” she trails off.
“You married him?” I finish, studying her face.
“I married him.” There’s a warm light in her eyes when she smiles. “Listen, I know how they seem… they’re good men, intense, overprotective, and a little possessive—but good men at the end of the day.” She looks me in the eyes. “All of them.”
I nod, thinking over what she’s told me.
“Do you need a drink?” she asks, shooting me a conspiratorial smile. “I think we’re going to need a drink if we’re going to survive that table tonight.”
“Yes, please,” I laugh, following her out of the bathroom.
It’s a short wait at the bar before we’re both holding full glasses of champagne.
We’re just about to go back into the ballroom, when Rory’s eyes drift to something over my shoulder, and her smile softens.
“I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” She winks at me, taking her glass of champagne and heading back to the table alone.
I immediately glance back over my shoulder, and my breath catches at the sight I see there.
It’s him. He came.
Koen is crossing the ballroom, his eyes locked on me. He’s moving through the room as if he owns it. Power radiates off of him in waves—it’s impossible to ignore. People notice him, recognition flashing on far too many faces, those patrons quickly finding somewhere—anywhere else to be.
He’s ditched his usual black hoodie, or rough leather jacket, for a sleek charcoal gray suit. The crisp white shirt is a stark contrast to the dark ink you can still see climbing up his neck. No tie, top buttons undone, a subtle fuck you to the formality of the gala.
“I thought you might have changed your mind,” I half joke when he reaches me, hoping he can’t see the sweeping relief I feel now that he’s actually here.
The corner of his mouth twitches up, the ghost of a smile. He leans in, his hand grazing the exposed skin on my lower back as he deposits a kiss on my cheek. “About you?” he murmurs, sending shockwaves of electricity down my spine. “Never.”
I shiver.
“Cold?” He smirks knowingly, and I give him a playful shove. But as I do, I see something over his shoulder, and my smile quickly falls.
“Shit,” I curse, grabbing hold of the lapels on his suit jacket and pulling him closer. “Come here.”
“What’s wrong?” Koen asks, instantly on high-alert. He allows me to drag him halfway into the little alcove next to us. I’m doing my best to use his body to shield mine, but I’m afraid it’s too late. When I don’t answer him, he looks back over his shoulder to scan the crowd for the threat.
“Who are you hiding from?” His hand moves for the gun I know he has hidden in his suit, but I slap it away.
“Jesus, no—we don’t need that! We should—” My eyes dart for the nearest exit, but it’s too late.
“Briar?” The familiar, sickeningly sweet voice sets my teeth on edge.
“Fuck,” I whisper, just loud enough for Koen to hear, I feel his stare burning through me. I close my eyes, count to three, and release one slow, controlled breath, before stepping back from Koen, wearing my best stage smile.
“Mother.”