The Cane Series: A Complete Forbidden Romance Series (4-Book Set)

by Shanora Williams

  He ended the call with a hard sigh. I blinked slowly, watching him sit on the edge of his desk and scroll through his phone. Now was my chance to talk to him. He was alone. Cornered.

  I pushed on the door with the tips of my fingers and it let off a slight creak. Cane picked his head up with a frown but when he caught sight of me, his eyes widened and his lips parted. He placed his phone down and pushed off the desk.

  “Kandy—what the hell? What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  But I ignored him, pushing the door closed behind me and running into his arms. He caught me before our bodies could clash too hard, and I was glad. So glad. He held me tight in his arms instead of pulling away, and my tears were instantaneous. I buried my face into his chest. “Why?” I asked, voice muffled. “Why? I don’t get it.”

  He made a noise that got trapped in his throat. “Kandy,” he murmured, and I could hear the agony in his voice.

  I picked my head up, meeting his eyes. “What does she have on you? I don’t get it. What did you do?”

  He pressed his lips. “You don’t want to know,” he answered, and his eyes immediately turned dark and filled with guilt.

  I wanted to know. I really did, but it hit me that we were alone. All alone, just like we were at the lake house, and in the den the very first time we attempted something. We were best when we were alone. Just us. Uninterrupted.

  “I wanted to see you before I left,” I whispered.

  He stroked my hair. “I’m glad you did.”

  “I’m never going to forget about you, Cane, and I know you aren’t going to forget about me either. I don’t care what she says.”

  He unleashed a hard and heavy breath. “I’ll figure this out,” he said with his lips in my hair. “I swear.”

  “By the time you do, you don’t think it’ll be too late?” I looked up again.

  “I hope not, Kandy Cane.”

  I smiled a little. I put my focus on his lips, how full and supple they were. I missed those lips. I missed everything about him. His scent. His touch. His beautiful, sculpted face. The ink that stained his arms and peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt.

  “Can we?” I begged. “One more time?”

  He blinked down at me with a pained expression. “Kandy…”

  “Please,” I begged again.

  He shut his eyes for a moment, inhaling through his nostrils and then exhaling. When he opened them, they were softer. Understanding.

  He lowered his head and brought his hands up to cup my face in them, and when his mouth met mine, my cold blood ran warm again. Anxious, I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled at the buttons of his shirt. I was sure I’d ripped it. Buttons clanked on the floor, but I didn’t care and neither did he. He reached down to pull my shirt over my head, our kiss breaking for a just a moment before we were smashed together again.

  Picking me up, he turned for the love seat that was against the window and laid my back down on it, climbing between my legs and unbuttoning my jeans with haste. My panties were next, and while he slid those down, I fumbled with his belt, button, and zipper.

  We were both free from the waist down. His shirt had been torn open, hanging loosely over his arms. He stared down at me, eyes sparking from the sunlight pouring in through the wide window. I stared up at him, the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on, and my eyes burned again, but I didn’t want to cry. Not yet.

  I grabbed his arm and yanked him down, draping my arms around the back of his neck. One of his went under my back and slid up to grip back of my neck, the other holding my waist.

  He looked at me again, and though my tears flowed abundantly and my heart was crumbling into pieces, I told him what I wanted.

  “I want you to make love to me.” Those words—all I’d ever wanted.

  He watched my face for several seconds. “Kandy…” His voice broke, but I shook my head and kissed him. I needed this. I didn’t want him to speak anymore. This was hurting enough. My chest ached and my mind raced and buzzed. With a grunt, he entered me, so deliberately that I had no choice but to whisper his name and beg him to complete the stroke.

  His thrusts were full and deep. So deep that I was sure I’d feel his imprint days after, and yet he was so gentle that my heart and belly fluttered.

  “Don’t ever think I don’t love you,” he said in my ear. A full thrust. More tears. “I fucking love you, Kandy. Love you more than words.”

  But this had to happen.

  Letting go had to happen.

  So I cherished this moment, right in his office, beneath the beating, yellow sun, surrounded by papers and leather. I ignored the burn of the leather on my backside, focusing on the strokes he provided. This was his final parting gift. With our tongues tangled and tied, and his body conjoined with mine, I knew he was telling the truth.

  He loved me.

  He was making love to me.

  I cried.

  I came.

  Euphoria and heartbreak. It was a strange combination, one I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Knowing this person could make you feel so amazing, but also knowing this same person held the power to break your heart.

  If that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was. I was young and naive, yes, but my heart knew what she wanted. She’d known it for the past nine years. I was in love with Quinton Cane, and that was never, ever going to change.

  Cane held me tight when he released, and even after, when the rest of his body had gone lax. He ran his fingers through my hair, panting rapidly as he tried catching his breath. Lines of liquid fire ran down to my ears.

  “This hurts,” I sobbed. “It fucking hurts, Cane.”

  “I know,” he breathed. “Fuck, I know, Kandy. I’m so fucking sorry. I told you I’ll fix this. I swear—just give me time. Things will go back to normal when I—”

  I shook my head, forcing my hands between us to push against his chest. He had no choice but to lift up and when he did, I slid from beneath him and grabbed my jeans. I tugged them on and then slid my feet into my flip-flops. Cane picked up his pants as well, pulling them over each leg.

  “Kandy,” he persisted.

  “I have to go,” I muttered.

  I grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head. Before I could get to the door, he caught my hand and whirled me around. He didn’t leave time for me to protest. His mouth claimed mine and our bodies connected again. Molded. A perfect match. A match that would never be.

  “Don’t forget me,” he begged.

  Begged.

  Cane had begged, probably for the first time in his life. I met his eyes and the rims of them were red and glistening. “Don’t walk out like this. Let me at least take you to dinner, a movie?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s okay. I have to get home and finish packing. Dad should be there soon. Besides, I don’t want you to get into any more trouble than you’re already in.”

  He blinked, lowering his gaze. He grabbed my hand and clutched it, and for a moment we stood there just breathing. Thinking. Breaking.

  I really had to go. I couldn’t do this—stand here and hurt. I couldn’t have him, and the sooner I let this go, the better off we both would be.

  Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away. He was hesitant to let go too, but he did. I had so much to say to him as I walked to the door, but none of the words were willing to come out. All of them became lodged in my throat, so I forced a smile at him instead—smile that cut me up inside like jagged edges of broken glass.

  “Don’t forget me, Kandy,” he said again, taking a step toward me, but I had already turned my back to him and walked out of the office.

  The door closed…

  Cane and I were no more.

  47

  KELLY

  I hated that sneaky bitch.

  I hated everything about her. I’d known for a while that he was messing with her. His odd and overprotective behavior made it so damn obvious, but I kept a level head and considered it a phase.

 
Surely, he will get over it and realize he needs a real woman, I thought. He’s just having fun. Remember he told you that he didn’t get to have a lot of fun as a teenager? My nice side pleaded with me, begging me to show sympathy and mercy. She was fucking wrong, and I will never listen to that side of me again.

  I thought winning Kandy over and playing girlfriends would get her to back off, but it didn’t. Hell, I had even hoped that my little story about how he helped me at the club would have worked, but it didn’t. I’d made that story up, and she seemed to eat that shit right up, but it wasn’t enough for her to move on, I suppose. Hell, he didn’t even own a club, but I ran with it.

  To be honest, I discovered Cane in a psych ward, where he was handling a mother who was screaming at the top of her lungs about how badly she needed a shot of heroin. She was wrestled down and drugged, hauled away right in front of him.

  See, I knew his secrets, and he trusted me with them, but only because he didn’t know how vicious I could be when my limits were tested. He also didn’t know the real me.

  He’d tested me repeatedly, stomping right over me, seeing me as only a woman who wanted him and nothing more. To be truthful, he was ruining my plans now by wanting her. Enough was enough.

  She thought she could just waltz in and steal the show, take what was mine? She was fucking wrong.

  I knew I couldn’t just go by a pair of panties. For all anyone knew, they could have been any woman’s panties, and I would have looked like a fool pulling out pink underwear and flashing them, screaming they were an eighteen-year-olds.

  So I did what I had to do—what my mother had trained me to do—so that I would never end up with a divorce or be abandoned. I wired Cane’s office.

  I made up some bullshit excuse to his staff about how Cane wanted his office redesigned while he was out of town, had a few men come in, and they bugged it. Microphones. Hidden cameras in the lamps. I would be able to see everything, and he didn’t know it.

  He didn’t want me, I knew that, but he had the money I needed, and the business that would help me skyrocket and grow my brand even more. Millionaire Wine, Chocolate, and Lingerie Seller, and Classy Interior Designer. I could see it like a package deal waiting to happen…but there was one thing standing in our way.

  That little slut, Kandy.

  I gritted my teeth as my personal investigator rolled over the film of them fucking on the leather love seat that I fucking selected personally. I couldn’t see their bodies, thank fuck, but even a blind man would be able to tell what they were doing from the noises they made.

  “Turn it off,” I snapped, pushing to a stand and grabbing my bag. “Can you make copies of that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered quickly.

  “Good. Make ten of them, and give two to me right now.”

  He bobbed his head and started clicking at his keyboard. My copies were made in no time, and when he handed me the USB flashdrives, a thrill shot through me—one I hadn’t felt in ages. I loved the power I possessed. These USBs would end it all and leave him with no choice but to be with me. I slid them into my purse and walked to the door.

  “Where are you going with that?” he asked, brow cocking. “My watermark is on them, you know? You have to pay for it.”

  “Don’t worry, Hank. You’ll get your money plus more once I know my plan has worked.”

  48

  CANE

  I hated that I couldn’t see Kandy off on good terms, but even if I had been capable of it, I wouldn’t have been able to. I had a negotiation party at my house that I’d been planning with Cora for a solid three months. Everything was already in place. I’d never seen my home so clean and organized. Gold lights, ice sculptures, decorations. Waiters stood in the den with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres, waiting for the guests to arrive.

  This was going to be a big deal for me. If I could get Mr. Zheng to accept my offer, I would have a Tempt warehouse opening in Tokyo in no time. I’d be able to sell my products there, expand my brand. It’d taken me years to get him to even talk to me, and now that I had him in my palm—in my city—it was time to seal the deal.

  I got my suit tailored and fitted that morning, and by six I was dressed for the occasion, ready to take on the night. The party started at eight, but around seven, some of the guests were arriving. I greeted every single one of them at the door, keeping my chin up and doing my best to ignore the heaviness that weighed on my chest.

  That heaviness was guilt. Fucking guilt, man.

  It wasn’t just about not getting to see Kandy off, but about the way she walked out yesterday. She didn’t look back. She was already prepared to let me go. I saw the pain in her eyes, tasted it in her tears. She was going to be hundreds of miles away, and I was going to miss the fuck out of her.

  I had to handle Kelly before even trying to talk to Kandy again. I needed her out of the fucking picture…but that was going to be hard to do with all she knew about me. I thought I had her on a leash. I was so wrong. Until I figured something out, I needed to do whatever I could to make her keep her fucking mouth shut. If that meant pretending to be a couple, so be it.

  I walked up to Cora, who was standing in the hallway with a clipboard. “This turned out nice,” I said as a few guests walked by with drinks already in hand.

  “I told you it would, sir.” She looked up at me over the bridge of her glasses.

  One of the assistants came our way, and notified us that Mr. Zheng had arrived.

  “Time to get my game face on, huh?”

  “Yes, sir, it is.” Cora walked to the door and I stood in place. Mr. Zheng walked through the threshold, a heavyset man with dark hair and warm, fawn skin, and I went to shake his hand.

  I’d never met Mr. Zheng in person before, only chatted with him through phone calls and emails. He was a pleasant man, very serious with a dry sense of humor, so it was a good thing I knew how to handle that. Even though things seemed to be going great, I hadn’t brought my A-game for the night. I felt like everyone could tell, especially my future distributor. I swiped drink after drink, trying to tame my frazzled nerves.

  If only I could get her off my mind. If only it were that simple…

  Fuck.

  Still, I did my best, giving compliments when necessary, but not overdoing it. This was my job. My life. I could stumble, but I couldn’t fall. Falling made me weak, and I vowed to never hit the ground again.

  During a small conversation with Mr. Zheng, I spotted Cora across the room, scanning the area. When she found me, she pushed through the crowd, murmuring her apologies. Meeting up to me, she gave me a perplexed expression. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Cane, but there is a Derek Jennings at the door for you, and he’s not on the guest list.”

  Derek’s name caught me completely off guard. I hadn’t invited him or even told him that I would be home. Shouldn’t he be with his family right now?

  I excused myself from Mr. Zheng and his wife, telling them to try more of the new wine that was floating around on trays. Adjusting my gold tie, I walked out of my living room where music by a live band played, and down the hallway that led to the door.

  Cora stood in front of the half-open door waiting for me. She heard me coming and rushed my way.

  “Do you want me to call the security guards at the gate?” she asked, panic in her eyes.

  “What? No. The men at the gates know Derek. His name’s on the visitor list for the house.” I looked at her with a slight frown. “What’s going on, Cora?”

  “He just…well, I know he’s your friend, sir, but he seems a little unstable right now. I think he’s drunk. His car is parked on the front lawn and he’s been walking around, ranting and demanding that he needs to see you. It’s making some of the guests uncomfortable.”

  I narrowed my eyes and pulled them away from hers, going for the door. When I drew it open, I spotted Derek standing in front of one of the guest’s cars, staring at his reflection. “Derek?” I called.

  Nothing but
his head and neck moved as he peered over his shoulder, but his eyes didn’t meet mine.

  “Derek, what’s going on, man?”

  He turned around, and as he did, I noticed his hands were clenched into fists. I slowed my pace, running my eyes all over him. From the glossy look in his eyes and the sweat that dotted his forehead, it was clear he was drunk. “Did you drive?” I asked calmly. I knew how he could get when he was drunk, and it was clear he was upset about something. When he drank, he always talked about his past. His anger would sometimes get the best of him. Something was wrong.

  He took a step toward me. “I’m not drunk,” he lied. I could tell he was lying. His words slurred together. He took another step forward, stumbling as he came up the stoop.

  “Look, D, let me call someone to get you home,” I insisted, reaching for him, but he shoved my hand away before I could touch him. I frowned. “D, what the fuck, man?” I snapped. “I have business guests here. This is important. I’m trying to be patient with you, but I don’t have time for this shit tonight. All right?”

  “Oh, you don’t have time for my shit?” He scoffed, letting out a belly-deep laugh. “You—you don’t have time for my shit?” He continued, laughing like it hurt, and my frown deepened. I looked over my shoulder at Cora who was standing by the door that was halfway open. She was worried now, her cellphone in hand. I shook my head at her, and she lowered it, still panic-ridden.

  Facing Derek again, I asked, “Do you need to talk about something with me? We can talk in private.”

  “Oh, trust me,” he growled. “Trust me, Cane. I have a lot to fucking say to you. Mr. Big CEO!” Derek ran a hand over his face, so roughly that I thought he would hiss with pain. He then brought the hand up to his forehead, using the palm of it to smack himself repeatedly.

  “Derek!” I barked.

  “Fuck!” He roared.