“I thought I told you to stay put. You weren’t supposed to leave the studio,” he growls into my ear, as he guides me with a light grip on my upper arm to where he parked his bike, just a few steps down from the shop.
IknewI’d heard it.
“How the hell did you find me anyway?” I ask, looking around for Mac or the SUV but not finding it, thinking maybe he followed me from the studio, though I kept checking over my shoulder to be sure. I’m almost certain no one saw me leave the studio, yet here stands Koen. A very, very angry Koen.
“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” he says, handing me an extra helmet.
I grimace.If I thought walking was cold…
“You need to follow the rules. It’s not safe on the streets for you. Last I checked, Giovanni is still in business, and they’re pretty eager to replenish their inventory.”
My shoulders tighten at the mention of Giovanni. I’m all too aware of how “in business” he is, seeing as he won’t stop blowing up my phone.
“Your girlfriend, huh?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Made sense at the time,” he mutters.
“Just like old times,” I smile, attempting to lighten the mood, but his eyes just narrow as he loses more patience with me.
“Get on the bike, Briar. I’ll drop you back at the studio before having a few words with Mac.”
I frown. I didn’t want to get Mac into trouble. My brow creases; I’m worried what Koen might do to Mac.
“It’s not his fault. I snuck out the back, and he never saw me. I made sure he didn’t see me,” I rush out in Mac’s defense.
Koen turns slowly to face me.
“You’re—You’re not going to hurt him or anything, are you?” I ask, chewing nervously on my lip, helmet still in my hands.
Koen curses under his breath and looks to the sky. “No little Rose, I’m not going to hurt him.”
My shoulders fall forward as I deflate.
“Now, will you get on the damn bike?”
R.I.P to my fingertips.But just as soon as I lift the helmet to my head, my phone rings and we both freeze. I hurriedly pull itout to silence it, aware of Koen’s heavy gaze on me. I almost drop the stupid phone in my haste.
“You need to get that?” he asks after a long drawn out pause, his words feeling razor sharp.
“No. It’s just my roommate.”
“Yourroommatecalls you a lot.”
I give him a look. “You’re very observant.”
His jaw tightens. “I am about things that matter.”
“And how often my roommate calls me matters?” I smirk, trying to deflect the tension. I don’t need him questioning how often Lily calls me.
He doesn’t answer. His gaze pinning me before he says, “Don’t test me.”
Done with the conversation, he turns around, swinging a leg over the bike and starting it up.
I sigh, slipping the helmet over my head, and getting on thedamn bikewithout further argument.
56
OBSIDIAN
