Bound to the Baron

by Gigi Thomas

  After seeing that Kenya was fading fast and food held no interest, Caden gave her something to change into and went to take that desperately needed cold shower. He also called his mother to let her know they were stuck in London. He thought it best not to go into how and why, though Lady Mildred didn’t seem the least interested. He apologized to Caydee on Kenya’s behalf when he talked to her and promised they would come tomorrow and spend the whole weekend with her.

  When Caden reentered his bedroom, he found Kenya sprawled across his bed, wearing his Chelsea football jersey. Kenya. In his Chelsea jersey. Bloody hell. She must’ve taken the shirt from the back of the chair, where Caden had strewn it after his morning run. The nice baggy pair of the pajamas he’d placed for her remained folded on the desk.

  His eyes languished Kenya’s body, as she rolled to her side, advertising the roundness of her bum. Her legs were exposed and appealing, split like a runner in mid stride or a striker kicking a goal. Caden just stood above the bed staring down at her, feeling himself immediately grow hard again in his pants.

  Whatever joke the universe was playing with him, it was not funny. Caden already felt like a pubescent teenager for having a wank in the shower. It was a pathetic attempt to relieve the persistent erection he’d had since being in the car with Kenya. If he was honest, his arousal had probably persisted since he saw her five months ago in the park...or five years ago at Harvard. Either way, both he and his erection knew a wank was a poor substitute for what he really wanted, especially when what he really wanted was lying on his bed. With her fucking legs open!

  Caden closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to go. He should just leave his room to her and sleep in the guest room upstairs. No, he should sleep in the room downstairs. That way he could work out his sexual frustration with an hour or two in the gym, if needed, before taking another cold shower.

  Kenya shifted again. The movement of her arms caused the shirt to raise a few inches and reveal the top of her thighs, just where her butt began to curve. And, a little moan escaped from the back of her throat. Right, gym it is! Caden turned to leave when he heard her speak.

  “Why did you go Cay?” Her voice was soft, pleading. “You just...just left me. And, I really thought you loved me.” Caden could hear the hitch in her breath. “I’m so stupid.”

  “Don’t say that, Yaya,” he said sitting beside her on the bed. “I did love you.” I do love you, he thought, as he stroked the hair away from her face.

  “Then why did you leave?”

  Damn, Caden thought looking at her sad expression. This was not getting easier. How long was he really going to keep this up? Could he really wait another two years? Should he? Maybe he’d held onto this secret long enough.

  “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you.”

  Caden knew once he told Kenya everything, everything would change. She would never look at him the same way again.

  “I...well, that day, I...” Caden looked down to Kenya, who was silent. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, and her breathing heavy and even. “Yaya?”

  Kenya didn’t respond.

  The alcohol had caught up with her. He rubbed his prickly hair with an exasperated sigh. Of course. He finally works up the courage to tell her, and she’s not awake to hear it. He looked down at her, her obsidian skin shining in the moonlight, which made the blue and white shirt that hugged her curves seem to glow like a halo around her.

  Maybe it was for the best. He’d made his decision years ago. Telling her now, wouldn’t change why he left. It wouldn’t change the fact that they still couldn’t be together. Telling her wouldn’t change anything. Still. He lay down beside her. Placing his lips on her forehead, he tenderly wrapped his arms around her.

  ~

  Kenya felt so comfortable that she didn't want to wake up. She nuzzled in more at the feeling of a hand stroking the small of her back and the strong arm it belonged to pulling her closer. She put her arm around his torso and settled her head more comfortably on Caden’s chest. Caden! What the actual fuck? What happened? She opened her eyes.

  Kenya looked around the moonlit room’s unfamiliar setting. Where was she? She wasn’t in her apartment; that was obvious. By the contemporary setting, the wall of windows, which revealed an enclosed garden, and the gas fireplace in the room, Kenya knew she was not at Hargrove Castle either. Well, she and Caden wouldn’t be in the same bed at the castle where they both had multi-room suites, would they? Actually, there was no place or reason that she and Caden should be in the same bed, Kenya reminded herself.

  That being the case, what the hell was she doing? Why was she lying on Caden’s chest? Why did her arm cling so tightly to his waist? Why did the feel of his body put her at such ease? Why did she feel more warmth from being beside him that from the blanket that covered her? By now Kenya had deduced that she was in Caden’s house. But, since she knew his Kensington townhouse had four bedrooms, there was certainly no reason for them to be sharing a bed. Again. This time there was no Caydee’s insistence to blame.

  Kenya remembered drinking—far more than she intended or was accustomed to—with some prospective clients. Normally, she got by with nursing a nondescript beverage to make it look like she was drinking more than she really was. Sometimes, she would have several fruity “girly” drinks, which no one but herself and the bartender knew were actually virgin or had precious little alcohol.

  She couldn’t do the froufrou drinks here, as these men did not put much stock in mango puree or decorative umbrellas. As a result, she consumed far more actual alcohol than her normal intake. She was holding out well for quite some time, but then she felt the strong arm of alcohol begin to pull her down. She knew she had to leave as soon as possible, and that it would not be a good idea to actually be drunk while out with them.

  Then...what happened? Oh, yes! Caden showed up. Kenya remembered his sudden appearance and the look of disapproval on his face. Wait, who the hell was he to disapprove of her? With his grim expression and his judgmental comments: her harem. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend or a cuckolded husband who found her in a compromising position.

  So what she was drinking at a bar with other men? No. With men. Not other men. Other implies that Caden was her significant other and the man in her life, which he certainly was not. While he was in her life, he was certainly not significant.

  Realizing that her position in his arms was counter to her mental assertions, Kenya began to disentangle herself from him. Caden’s grip on her tightened, his arms snaking around her.

  “Mmm, Yaya. I love you.”

  “What?” Kenya asked, looking up. Did he really just say that?

  Caden’s eyes were closed, his chest still rising and falling at an even pace. He was still asleep, Kenya realized. She’d forgotten how chatty he could be at night. She didn’t know what was better or worse, what Caden said or that he said it while asleep. Should she believe his words more or less? Did his nighttime mumblings even matter? Should it? Kenya knew it shouldn’t matter. She had made peace with their relationship ending years ago. So, why did her heart quicken when she heard those words. And why did being in his arms make her feel more content than she’d felt in years? Why did she feel so secure?

  Secure?!

  Well, that has to be the most bat-shit ridiculous display of emotional scat her brain has ever discharged. That’s a sign right? That she was going mad? No, seriously! Isn’t that a telltale sign that she was having from some form of mental breakdown? Or maybe it just meant she was masochist? How can she feel secure in the arms of the person who has proved that he can’t be depended upon? He already abandoned her. While pregnant no less!

  Well, he didn’t know you were pregnant, she reminded herself. Well, that’s because he left! He would’ve known if he hadn’t left, she reminded her reminding self. This was ridiculous! And confusing. Kenya wasn’t even sure who she was arguing with anymore. Damn him! No matter how she tried, it seemed she couldn’t escape
Caden. She couldn’t escape her desire for him be it emotional or physical. A sensory replay of their ride home flashed through her mind and body. Kenya saw herself sitting on Caden’s lap, tasted his kisses in her mouth, heard his moans in her ear, felt his fingers in...

  No!

  She had to get out of there. Maybe she would just jump in a taxi and take it back to her place. As late as it was, Kenya knew that probably wasn’t the safest idea; however, she knew staying in this bed with these unpredictable emotions was definitely dangerous. That was certain. She could go and sleep in one of the other bedrooms.

  She moved again.

  “I missed you, Yaya,” Caden mumbled in her ear, as he nuzzled closer, burying his face in her hair. “I won’t let you go again.” His grip on her tightened, his arms locking her body to his like a vice.

  Kenya couldn’t move. Half of why was the arresting grip in which Caden’s strong arms held her. The other half was the fact that she was too stunned to execute mobility. Why was he saying these things? She decided that Caden making these admissions while asleep did not make it better. Maybe he was just dreaming. No, she was the one dreaming if she was foolish enough to think that Caden’s somniloquous words meant anything more than just that: Words.

  Unfortunately, the mixture of his proximity, his grip, his words, and his scent created a potent Caden cocktail that was far more intoxicating than the alcohol that had her sitting on his lap earlier. Oh, she couldn’t believe that she’d done that. Being around Caden again and around him this much was making her crazy. She had to get away from him.

  As his grip on her tightened again, Kenya ripped herself from Caden’s grasp with such force that she heard him groan at its brutality. Without looking back, she quickly exited the room. She stood, catching her breath for a few minutes, against the door. Kenya didn’t hear any movement inside, so Caden must’ve either not woken up or promptly returned to sleep. See. He doesn’t even know I’m here, she reprimanded herself. With a sigh, she walked down the hall to sleep in the room where Cadence slept when she was here, as it was also on this floor. Kenya entered the bedroom and froze.

  The automatic light had switched as she entered, but she stood for a few moments unsure if what she thought she was seeing was what she was actually seeing. Kenya had not spent much time in Caden’s place. The last time she was actually inside to make sure the house was child safe, particularly where Caydee would be sleeping, the bedroom looked like an acceptable guest room. This room was no longer a guest room. This was Caydee’s room. And, it was beautiful.

  The room was a sea of purple and blue hues with touches of pink. The double bed’s headboard and foot-board had a wooden scroll design above the purple upholstery. Its soft cream colored wood matched the vanity, wardrobe, and nightstand. On one side of the room sat two purple and pink checked chairs, with blue pillows adorned with Swarovski crystal crowns. The chairs flanked a window, below which was a bookcase shaped like a castle and filled with books. A soft white plush rug was spread across the floor.

  The opposite side boasted a dollhouse. Just as Caydee’s dollhouse at Hargrove Castle was a four-foot-tall recreation of a Gothic Manor to match the home where it resided, this one was a three-foot-tall townhouse. Her daughter literally had dollhouses for the city and the country, Kenya realized amazed. Beside the dollhouse was a unicorn rocking-horse and a collection of toys, which—by how they were strewn about—received their fair share of play.

  When did Caden do all of this?—Kenya wondered. This room looked as though Caydee had been here for years and not months. It looked as though she grew up here. There were even picture frames about with pictures of Caydee and Caden, and a picture of all three of them sat on one of the nightstands. Well Kenya definitely couldn’t sleep here. All being in this room would do is make her think of Caden. Thinking of Caydee, in this context, with the fruit of his efforts to make her feel at home and be a father, was tantamount to the same.

  Kenya still couldn’t believe how committed Caden was to being a father, to being in Caydee’s life and spending as much time with her as possible. It made her think of all the time that was lost between them. What would have happened if he had known that she was pregnant? But, why should she think that anything would have been different? Obviously, he left because he didn’t want to be with her, have a family with her, and their relationship had gone too far for his liking. Caden deciding he wanted to be a father now has nothing to do with what his reaction would’ve been back then.

  Why Caden wouldn’t just break up with her instead of disappearing like that always bothered her though. And, more importantly, why did he pursue her so diligently if only to leave? Kenya would’ve chocked it up to just proving that he could get with her like one of those 1990s teen movies she used to watch with her babysitter when she was a kid, where the hot popular guy takes a bet that he could bed or date the most unpopular or difficult girl in school. Only in those movies the hot guy realizes that he really loves that girl, and they live happily ever blah blah blah.

  But, that wasn’t their story for many reasons. For one thing, they’d already had sex before they officially began dating. Kenya had had no intention of ever dating Caden or even knowing him. With their career choices throwing them in the same section, classes, and clubs, they’d spent so much time together, they actually became friends. Once Caden stopped hitting on her, Kenya realized that he was actually smart, silly, and really sweet.

  Caden became her best study partner, and he always knew how to cheer her up when she was upset, especially when she didn’t want to be cheered up. He was always really supportive of what she wanted to do too. He never tried to talk her out of or try to get her to scale back her dreams. He talked as if he believed she could do anything, but with knowledge of what that entailed, inquires if he needed more understanding rather than blind ignorant faith or the sycophantic support that often does more harm than good. He’d say, “You’re Kenya-effing-Morris! You can do anything!” And, she’d believe him.

  Even though they’d become friends, Kenya didn't really expect to hear from Caden after they had sex, especially since it was the beginning of Winter Break. What happened between them was a fluke: a crazy end to an exhausting finals week. They were just relieving stress and frustration caused by what had to be the most tyrannical, and possibly sociopathic, professor in Harvard’s MBA program’s history. When they did see each other again, Kenya expected him to pretend it never happened, like she'd planned to.

  Instead, Caden sent her flowers. To her job! She was a freaking intern, with a desk the size of a shaved toothpick, getting this ridiculously large bouquet from the most shi-shi florist in Boston. Kenya only realized the shop was such a big deal, because of all the comments from people at the office that day, people like the VP. Caden picked her up after work and took her out on their first official date that evening. This was not grabbing a quick bite before class or him prying her away from the library because he thought she needed sustenance and sunlight or ordering take out while pouring over Forbes and WSJ in his apartment.

  They already spent most of their time together, and they'd already had sex. By those counts, they were already dating, Caden asserted. At this point, they might as well accept it. Kenya remembered how fine he looked, in his dark gray pea coat, leaning against his silver Range Rover, waiting for her outside her office. It had started to snow that afternoon, and there was a colony of snowflakes making a settlement on his blonde curls. He’d been standing outside her building, for who knows how long, so he wouldn’t miss her.

  Kenya remembered how he dropped her off that night, kissed her thoroughly, and—and this was the important part—didn't try to have sex with her. He didn’t even try to feel her up. He just went home, and they spent the rest of the night texting each other. It was several weeks and several dates later before they started having sex again.

  If Caden just wanted sex from her then he could’ve left after he’d gotten that. Why insist on pursuing her further? Insist
on being her “boyfriend.” He was adamant about that. Caden wanted the title. He’d been calling her his girlfriend for about two months before she ever called him her boyfriend. He’d always said he’d wait until she was ready, and he wasn’t interested in any other girls; so as far as he was concerned, she was his girlfriend.

  Kenya remembered the delighted look in his eyes, the goofy smile on his stupid face when she finally said it, and the way he later pulled her off to the side, wrapped his muscular arms around her, and kissed her so hard she thought she would sweat out her blow out. Later that night, and for most of the next day, he ensured Kenya did just that.

  She wasn’t even thinking about it really. They were at a party, and Kenya just introduced him as her boyfriend. She still remembered that stupid smile. Damn it! Why was she thinking about all this?

  Kenya decided to go to the top floor, as she knew there was supposed to be a bedroom up there. It did not hurt that it was two full floors away from Caden’s room. She needed all the space between them that she could get. Caden’s four-level house was built on a slope. The front entrance led to the main floor, and the Master and Caydee’s bedrooms, which were one floor below, opened directly into the back garden.

  As Kenya reached the main floor, she was drawn to the view from the back window, blue with the light of the early morning. She exited the living room and stepped onto the terrace, looking down onto the backyard garden. The garden had also gone through its own metamorphosis. The once Spartan backyard now boasted a fairytale castle inspired bespoke tree-house with a rock climbing wall, chair and rope swings, and, connected by a suspension bridge, a tower that held a slide. Had Caden really gone and renovated his house, his life for Caydee? Kenya’s emotions were in conflict and she didn’t know which would win out.