She stares at me, searching my face, my eyes, for a reason to believe what I’m saying is true. That I’m not trying to trick her.
“Okay,” she says finally, letting me lead her back to the SUV. Her eyes full of distrust.
38
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 somedance 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 atme.
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 oweyouany 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 certainsituation?”
The blood drains from my face at his mention ofthat 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
