Chapter 61 Talk to Me – Briar
TALK TO ME
brIAR
“Oh, Briar sweetheart, it is you!” I pale even further when I see my father is with her.
They come closer, my father outright refusing to look at me, while my mother does the opposite.
Her cold blue eyes take me in, scanning the length of me, while I fight the urge to fidget under the weight of her perusal.
I am all too aware of Koen at my side, feeling his hand move to my lower back protectively.
“I almost didn’t recognize you; you look so… healthy.” Her smile is polite, but the disapproval in her eyes is glaring.
I inhale sharply. Healthy is just my mother’s polite way of saying, You’ve gained weight. It’s a trigger for me, bringing me back to the days when she used to obsess over my every calorie, every pound, all in her pursuit to have the picture-perfect daughter.
She’s watching me with pursed lips, looking as prim and perfect as ever, in Chanel of course, standing at my father’s side. Her dark hair is in an elegant chignon, and while she’s definitely been overdoing the Botox, she still is the perfect wife.
My shoulders are stiff, every inch of me rigid, and Koen’s hand tightens on my waist.
My mother’s attention shifts from me to him, her smile growing as she looks him over, and she extends her hand.
“Oh, well, hello there. You must forgive my daughter. We raised her better than this, but she’s clearly forgotten her manners.
” She shoots me an annoyed look. “Allow me to introduce myself, Bridget Rousseau Ralston, Briar’s mother.
” She plasters a wide smile on her face before turning to place a light hand on my father’s chest, who’s at her side but whose attention is elsewhere.
“And this is Briar’s father, Eric.” At the sound of his name, my father turns, politely offering Koen his hand for a firm handshake. “Eric Ralston. Pleasure.” His response is friendly, though short and clipped, as he quickly appraises my date.
“Eric Ralston, as in Senator Eric Ralston from New York?” Koen asks, shaking my father’s hand while his eyes slide back my way.
“The same!”
“Koen O’Rourke.”
My stomach twists, and I know Koen can feel the tension running through me when his hand falls back to my waist. I didn’t want him to find out who my father is; I didn’t want to give him another reason to use me.
My father looks up at Koen with a contemplative expression on his face. “O’Rourke, you say? You wouldn’t have any relation to the O'Rourkes making waves in the Boston real estate market, would you?”
“Oh, Eric dear,” my mother interjects, smiling politely, “I’m sure he’s not—”
“Yes, actually,” Koen interrupts her, and my mother’s smile falters.
I pinch my cheek between my teeth in order to hide my smirk. She hates when people interrupt her.
“My father started acquiring property around the city, and you could say my brothers and I have taken over the family business.”
I scoff at Koen’s so-called family business comment, drawing everyone’s attention by accident. I take a sip from my glass as cover.
I haven’t seen my parents in over four years, and I’ve barely talked to them in as much.
When I finally gathered up the nerve to tell them I was pregnant, they told me to get rid of it.
And while I support that right for other girls, I just—I just couldn’t.
Plus, by that point, it was already too late.
But my parents were clear: if I had that baby, if I didn’t give it up for adoption, they were cutting me off.
I left that night, fleeing to Lily’s house, and by the time I arrived, they’d already revoked access to my bank account, shut off my credit cards, and contacted Delacroix about terminating the dorm agreement.
Only my scholarship saved my spot at the school.
They hoped they could bully me into making a different choice, but I was done dancing at the end of their strings.
They didn’t give a shit about me or their future grandchild; all they cared about were the optics. How would it look if Senator Ralston’s daughter turned up pregnant with a bastard? And during an election year! Oh, well now, that just wouldn’t do.
Oh shit, Remi. A bolt of fear rips through me. What if they bring up Remi? My gaze flickers nervously up to Koen, who’s listening intently to my father droll on about mutual funds and property taxes. Not that they’ve ever asked about her before—but things have a habit of not going my way lately….
“Briar.” My mother’s icy eyes survey me again. “You look like you’re eating well.”
I stiffen and feel Koen’s attention shift back to me, observing our interaction despite continuing the conversation with my father.
“Yes, mother. You mentioned that,” I say sharply, lifting my chin.
“You know the winter showcase is right around the corner?”
I blink at her. Seeing as we’re at the gala specifically celebrating the upcoming winter showcase... I think I do, yeah.
But I don’t say that. Instead, I bite my tongue and respond with a tight-lipped, “Yes.”
She hums audibly, and I look away, anywhere else, finding my glittering shoes a marvelous distraction.
“I have to tell you, your father and I were shocked when we saw your name on the literature sent to sponsors. I would have expected the Conservatory would have wanted to go with a fresh face. You know how those young dancers just have so much drive and ambition; they really are a sight to see.”
I keep my gaze on my toes. I painted them black; they look good against the silver shoes.
“But then I heard about the original girl… What a shame. Caterina, right?” She clicks her tongue.
“A broken ankle right in the middle of the season!” she laments, though her tone is dripping with venom.
“But at least it all worked out for you though, sweetheart, right? You were first understudy? Still an admirable position to hold, and now you get to headline!”
The snide smile she’s shooting at me down her nose tells me she already knows, so I lift my chin when I say, “No, actually I didn’t get understudy.
Julia Zhang did.” My mother gives me a satisfied smirk.
“But one thing led to another, and they asked me to take the role.” I shrug, trying my best to look bored with the conversation, but Koen’s sharp eyes aren’t missing any of it.
“Oh, well, even more exciting!”
Releasing a sigh, I take another sip from my glass and watch a look of horror spread across her face.
“Is that champagne you’re drinking?”
I nod. Holding up the glass, as if I’m toasting her, before taking another sip. “Yep.”
“There’s a lot of sugar in that, don’t you think?” If she were wearing pearls, she’d be clutching them right now. The thought comes out almost involuntarily, but then she catches herself, adjusting her shoulders. “Well, I suppose it is a party, good for you on indulging.”
I stop drinking, lowering my glass in front of me.
But my mother doesn’t stop there. She’s enjoying herself far too much. “Briar dear, did I tell you I ran into the Ashfords?”
I shake my head because no, of course she didn’t, we haven’t talked in four years but sure…
do go on. “Their daughter Emilia—you remember Emilia, of course? You two were in dance lessons together back in grade school? She’s now touring with the Premiere Ballet in Paris!
A prima ballerina! I told your father we must fly out and see her next show. I think they’re doing Giselle next!”
“That’s great for Em. I’m happy for her,” I say, and I mean it. Emmy is a talented dancer. We haven’t talked in a while, but I’m sure she deserves it.
“She was always such a responsible girl. Goes to show what you can accomplish if you stay focused and don’t throw your life away.” My mother’s tone sharpens on her closing words, staring at me pointedly.
I avoid her gaze, turning my attention back to Koen and my father.
“Of course, a man with your portfolio could do well partnering with us,” my father continues, oblivious to the conversation playing out to his right.
“You’ll have direct access to, well, I really can’t say, but I am telling you, opportunities like this don’t present themselves every day!
You know, I could really go for a cigar right now; why don’t we leave the ladies to it, and we can continue this discussion in the gentlemen’s room over some smokes?
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the new zoning policies on the table for next year.
” He glances about the room. “And I know I saw Senator Jeffries around here somewhere. I’d love to make an introduction… ”
I shift uncomfortably and subtly step out of Koen’s hold on my lower back, freeing him up to join my father and his friends for more shop talk, but just as I slip out from under his fingers, he reaches down, without even looking, catching my hand and stopping me from getting any further away from him.
“My apologies, Senator, but I actually need to steal Briar away for a few minutes.”
“Briar?” Confusion fills my father’s face as he looks my way for possibly the first time all night, possibly even forgetting I was here at all.
“Yes, Briar,” Koen confirms, his tone cold before finding my widened eyes. “Who also, by the way, is quite a sight to see. If you’ll excuse us.” Both my mother and father stare at him in disbelief. But Koen doesn’t seem to care, tightening his hand around mine and pulling me away from them.
“Koen.”
He moves us quickly down the hall, going the opposite direction of the ballroom, and I’m struggling to keep up with him in my heels, holding my dress up with my free hand to keep from tripping over it.
He doesn’t answer me, continuing to pull me down a maze of hallways until we reach an elevator, where he shoves his thumb into the button as if the button itself personally offended him.
“Koen,” I say again.
He still doesn’t look at me, but his mouth tightens, just as the elevator doors open, and he drags me in. Another couple appears behind us, attempting to board as well, but he holds up a hand, glaring at them.
“No.”
They freeze as he hits the button for the doors to close.
“Where are we going?” I whisper, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at me, doesn’t let go of my hand.
My brain is racing through what could have happened.
I’d been trying to monitor his conversation with my father and heard nothing damning.
However, Koen clenches his jaw, and his eyes burn. He’s angry, but I don’t know why.
The elevator dings, and he takes off, stalking quickly down the hall, my hand locked in his. We reach a door, and he pulls a card out of the inside pocket of his jacket. I stare at it; the door lock blinks green to allow him access.
My throat goes dry. “Please talk to me,” I say quietly.
He pushes open the door, letting go of my hand, and holds it open for me to walk inside on my own.
I stare at the door and then at him, trying to read him, but, as always, he’s a closed book.
I can still sense the simmering anger burning under his skin, but he promised he’d never hurt me, so against my better judgement, I step into the room.
Koen follows me in, the door clicks shut behind him, and slowly, I turn back around, looking at him with a mixture of nerves and anticipation, when he finally speaks.
“Truth or dare, Briar Rose?”