Seducing Kaden (The Kennedy Boys Book 6)

by Siobhan Davis

  “I train at the gym most nights. Meet me there. Let me teach you some self-defense techniques.”

  I open my mouth to immediately reject it, but he places two fingers to my lips. “Don’t automatically turn me down without thinking about it. I’d rest easier at night knowing you are capable of defending yourself. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

  I find myself nodding, and I can almost see some of the tension leave his shoulders.

  He watches me with those serious, intense eyes of his as I get into the taxi. Closing the door, he continues to eyeball me. As the taxi pulls away from the curb, I turn around and look at him, and we continue staring at one another until he’s only a blip in the distance.

  Back home, Jeremy is waiting up for me, and he’s on guard the instant he spots the ugly gash on my cheek. “What happened?”

  “I had too much to drink, and I tripped and fell on the sidewalk,” I lie. “I ruined my clothes, so I went back to Renee’s to get changed and cleaned up.”

  He frowns. “Evie, that’s not like you.” And he’s right. It’s not. I have an iron strong constitution when it comes to alcohol. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been drunk, and I can drink most men under the table.

  “I think it’s because I’m approaching my time of month. My tolerance must be less or something.”

  Jeremy pulls me into his side, more tenderly than normal. “Why don’t you take a bath and I’ll fix you some chamomile tea?”

  I look up at him, shock splayed across my face. Jeremy is not the type to fuss over anyone. Except, perhaps, the first Mrs. Garcia, but he doesn’t fuss over me, so this is a new development. He swats my butt, more gently than usual. “Go on. I’ll bring your tea to your room.”

  The hot water soothes the aches and pains and helps relax me. After I’m dry, I dress in silk pajamas and crawl under my comforter. Jeremy appears in the doorway a second later dressed only in snug boxer briefs, carrying a tray with tea and some ginger cookies. Placing the tray on my bedside table, he closes my bedroom door and slides into bed alongside me, much to my dismay.

  I was hoping my injury gave me a sexual pass for tonight, but that was clearly wishful thinking.

  He obviously senses it, because he rubs a hand up and down my arm in a comforting gesture. “I know you’re hurting, darling, so I won’t prolong it tonight. I’ll be quick and gentle.”

  The tea and cookies settle in my stomach like rat poison. So much for showing a nurturing side.

  Since he decided we were going to try for a baby, he seems intent on impregnating me as fast as he can. His once weekly conjugal visits have now become nightly ones, and I’m beginning to really hate the feel of his hands roaming my body.

  Thank God, I had the foresight to get a contraceptive implant a couple years ago. It was a precautionary measure when Kaden and I started sleeping together, and now I’m grateful for it and the fact Jeremy knows nothing about it. Although, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before it’ll all come out. When I fail to get pregnant, I expect he’ll send me to someone and the truth will be revealed.

  He’ll go crazy.

  But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  For now, I want to delay the inevitable.

  I’m deluding myself.

  I know that.

  But there’s still a teeny, tiny part of me that harbors hope that I will someday escape his clutches. Add a child into the equation, and that becomes a definite impossibility. Jeremy would never let me take any child of his away, and I wouldn’t be selfish enough to leave any child with him alone.

  For now, I’m a certain kind of trapped.

  But, maybe, just maybe, Kaden is right.

  As Jeremy thrusts inside me, I go to that special place in my mind, imagining it’s Kaden moving inside me, his hands exploring my body, and I allow myself to believe, if only for a few moments in time.

  I believe in Kaden’s determined words, and I imagine a full life with him, free of the shackles restraining me.

  “This is gorgeous, Mrs. Hill,” Jeremy tells my mom, tucking heartily into our regular monthly Sunday dinner of roast beef with all the sides. I enjoy visiting my parents about as much as I enjoy visiting my OB/GYN.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Isabel,” she says, batting her eyelashes and patting his arm. In my head, I mimic her reply, because it’s the same one I’ve heard over and over, like a broken record. “You make me sound so old.” She giggles, a ridiculous shrill laugh that is unbecoming for a woman of her age. At least that is what my father has told her time and time again.

  But my mom is a law unto herself.

  She proved that when she made the deal with the devil, convincing my father there was no alternative.

  There’s never any question over who wears the pants in this household.

  Jeremy groans as he bites into his beef, and I have a strong urge to kick him under the table. I’d think he did it on purpose, except I know my husband isn’t the petty type. If Jeremy wants you to know something, you’ll hear it. He is blunt to a fault.

  “From the way you’re devouring that meal, one would think you never get a home-cooked meal,” she simpers, and I want to scratch her eyes out. Although she is deliberately riling me up, I can’t resist going there. It embarrasses her no end when I retaliate—it’s unladylike and uncouth, she’s often told me.

  “Jeremy gets a lovely home-cooked meal every night. Camille is a wonderful cook.” I shoot her a forced smile as I pop an overdone green bean in my mouth. “And she always serves her green beans al dente. I can send her over to you for a demonstration, if you like.”

  “Evie.” Jeremy’s voice is like steel as he slants a cautionary look my way. “Don’t be rude to your mother.”

  “Sorry, Isabel.” I don’t even attempt to sound genuinely apologetic, and tension slices through the air like a knife gliding through soft butter.

  My father clears his throat. “Any update on tenure yet, sweetheart?” he asks me. Predictably, my mother scowls, and Jeremy looks bored.

  “Not yet. Competition is tough, and places are limited. Jesse Roberts is looking for tenure too, and he’s very well connected. This is a crucial year for me if I’m to stand any chance against him.”

  “You’ll get it,” Dad says, smiling proudly. “Harvard recognizes quality when they see it, and they’d be fools to risk losing you.”

  “It’s a moot point,” Jeremy cuts in, dabbing the side of his mouth with his napkin. “Because once Evie is pregnant, she’ll be giving up work to look after our children.”

  My fork clangs to the table, and my mouth hangs open in shock. “What?”

  Jeremy drills me a serious look. “I’m not having some stranger rear my children. Your place will be at home.”

  “I never agreed to that,” I hiss.

  “It was an unspoken condition of our marriage.”

  “I didn’t agree to that either,” I blurt, too enraged to curtail my feelings.

  “Evelina!” Mom’s shocked tone bounces off the cream walls. “Apologize to your husband right this second.”

  I stand up. “Or what, Isabel? You’ll put me over your knee and scold me with the wooden spoon like you did when I was naughty as a child?”

  I begin clearing the dinner plates. My father locks eyes with mine as I lift his plate, his regret and anguish plainly evident. His eyes flit to my wrists and the yellowed marks peeking out from under the cuffs of my blouse. Sadness mixes with frustration and anger as he gulps, knotting his napkin on his lap.

  He may have inadvertently got me into this situation, but he’s not the one I blame.

  All fingers point to the woman who birthed me. I refuse to call her mother because she relinquished that title the day she traded my future away.

  When Dad realized who he was working for, and w
hat he’d gotten mixed up in, he tried to get out, but the guy in charge before Jeremy—his father—made sure he’d be tied to them for life.

  I still remember the night he came to our house. I had just turned twelve, and I woke up, roused by the shouting from downstairs. I’d been scared, but not scared enough to stay in bed. Creeping out onto the landing, I had hovered at the top of the stairs listening to the raised voices arguing below. Then the kitchen door opened, and the argument had moved into the hall. “Get out,” my dad told the strange man. “I will never agree to such a thing.”

  “Jack,” Mom pleaded with him. “Let’s discuss this on our own, and you can call Robert tomorrow.”

  “You listen to your little lady,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said. “She understands the situation. Decide carefully, Jack. Your family’s future depends on it.”

  The man strode to the front door and opened it, but he stopped, as if he’d heard some silent calling card. Whipping his head around, he stared straight at me.

  Even as a child, the sly smile he threw my way sent shivers down my spine.

  His premature demise was a welcome reprieve. He died four months before Jeremy and I were married, so at least I didn’t have to suffer him as a father-in-law. Jeremy’s mother died when he was young, before she’d had the chance to give him any siblings, and the lack of in-laws to contend with is the only small blessing I’ve received.

  “Evelina!” Isabel snaps, yanking me from my mind. “I need your help with dessert.”

  Calmly, I carry the dirty dinner plates to the kitchen, loading them into the dishwasher.

  “What the hell has gotten into you?” she demands once we’re in the kitchen and the door is firmly closed.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You shouldn’t goad your husband like that or speak back to your elders in front of him.” She removes the chocolate cheesecake I made from the fridge, placing it on the counter.

  “He’s not fucking God, Isabel!”

  She raises her hand to slap me, but I grab hold of her wrist. “Hit me and I’ll hit back. I’m not some vulnerable little child you can whack with a spoon when you feel like it.”

  “That was for your own good, and you know it.”

  “Yeah,” I snort. “Fat lot of good it did.” I yank the cupboard door open, removing small plates.

  “After everything your father and I have done for you.” She mutters under her breath, shaking her head as she starts cutting through the decadent dessert.

  “Are you kidding? After everything you’ve done? You’ve trapped me in a loveless marriage to a criminal who now wants to chain me pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen. Thanks a bunch, Mother. I definitely owe you for that.”

  This time I don’t see the slap coming in time to stop it. My head jerks back with the force of the impact. Stinging pain glances across my cheek. She would have to hit the one that’s already sore. I’m tempted to follow through on my threat, and hit her back, but then I’d be no better than her. And I pride myself on the fact I’m nothing like her.

  “You ungrateful little madam! That man is a good man, and he’s given you a great life. Plenty of women would kill to be in your place.”

  “I’d happily trade places!” I hiss, deliberately keeping my tone low in case anything filters back. “And how can you call him a good man? He sells drugs and guns for a living, and that’s only the stuff I know about.”

  “He is good to you and that’s all that counts.”

  I shake my head, practically throwing the cake onto the plates. “How can you live with yourself? With all these lies you tell yourself? How can you look in the mirror knowing you forced me into marrying someone I didn’t love?”

  “Love,” she scoffs. “You always had your head in the clouds. I blame your father and all those movies he took you to. Love doesn’t exist, Evelina. Survival is all that counts. And your father and I ensured that the day we made that deal. It was that or we all died.” She shoves two plates at me, taking the other two and heading toward the door. “It’s time you grew up and faced things like a mature adult. Whether you approved of our decision or not, you want for nothing. Your children will want for nothing. Maybe when you’re a mother yourself, you’ll finally see what’s important in life.”

  She flings open the door, casting one last derogatory glance over her shoulder at me before she exits the room. “And it’s not love.”

  Chapter Ten

  Present – Senior Year of College

  Kaden

  I have renewed vigor in my step as I walk toward the gym tonight. Since Eva texted last night to say she’d accept my offer to train her in self-defense, I’ve been on a countdown, dying to get up close and personal with her again. I’m glad she agreed, because she needs to know how to defend herself. And it gives me the opportunity to work on eliminating the barrier she’s still keeping between us. I understand her reasoning now—it all makes sense, and I’m not walking away from her this time.

  “Yo, Kennedy.” Dylan Barnes shouts out as I walk through the doors of the gym. Dylan co-owns this place with his partner Gary and I’ve gotten to know both of them since I joined.

  I stride toward him, and we knuckle touch. “’Sup, dude?”

  “Heard you and Tiff broke up again.”

  “Yeah.” I shrug, not wanting to dwell on it. “She’s cool, but it ran its course, and we’re totally done this time.”

  “Hmm.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Guess you won’t be pleased to hear she’s in the office waiting for you then.”

  I groan. “Ah, shit, man. I actually thought she’d gotten the message this time.”

  “Want me to get rid of her for you?”

  I shake my head. “Nah. I’ll talk to her myself, but can you do me a favor?” I lower my voice. “I’ve agreed to provide some self-defense lessons to one of my ex-teachers. She’s due to arrive shortly. Can you show her to the ladies’ locker room and tell her I’ll be with her as soon as I can?”

  “No probs.” He shoves a clipboard at me. “Just add her name to the guest list and I’ll look after her.”

  I quickly write Eva’s name down.

  “Holy shit, Kennedy. You’re coaching Professor Garcia?” He whistles low on his breath. “Better hope word doesn’t get out.” He chortles. “Or maybe I should leak it myself. I bet new memberships would go through the roof.”

  My jaw locks up, and I glare at him. “You better fucking not!”

  He steps back, holding his palms up. “Whoa! Calm the fuck down. I’m only messing around.”

  I force myself to cool it, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck. “There’s a reason she needs these sessions, and she’s notoriously private. I don’t want anything to get in the way.”

  His expression turns more serious, and he nods slowly. “Yeah, I’ve heard some of the rumors going around. Her old man’s not to be messed with.”

  “Something like that,” I mutter, not wanting to create more gossip. “Just keep this on the down low.”

  “Done, dude.” He slaps me on the back while I go to get rid of Tiffani.

  “But I miss you, babe.” Tiffani pouts, getting up from the couch in Dylan’s office and crossing the room toward me.

  “It hasn’t been that long.” I hold out an arm, stalling her forward trajectory.

  “Feels like eternity to me.”

  I sigh. “I’m sorry, Tiffani. I don’t know what you want me to say. I haven’t changed my mind, and I’m not going to.”

  “Don’t make me beg.” She pouts again, and her lower lip wobbles.

  “Don’t go there, Tiff. It won’t make any difference. We’re done. It’s time to move on and date other people.” I don’t know how I can be any blunter without hurting her feelings. “And you can’t come here again. I don’t want to tell Dylan to ban you, but if you show up
again you won’t leave me much choice.”

  A dark shadow descends upon her face. Yanking her bag off the arm of the couch, she angrily slides the strap over her shoulder. “You’re making a big mistake, Kaden.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” I walk to the door and open it. She shoves past, sending me a hate-filled look. I shake my head as I close Dylan’s door and turn to go after her. I want to make sure she leaves the premises promptly.

  “Oof!”

  I look up in time to see Tiffani run straight into Eva. Fucckkk!

  “What are you doing here?” Tiff demands, frowning at Eva.

  “She’s a new member,” Dylan pipes up, lying smoothly, and I could kiss him, if I was that way inclined. “I’m just giving the obligatory tour, so, if you’ll excuse me.” Dylan gently takes Eva’s arm, steering her away from Tiffani.

  “Mr. Kennedy.” Eva smiles and nods at me in passing, barely giving me any attention, and I’ve got to give her credit for playing it perfectly.

  Tiffani has narrowed her eyes, and she’s slanting daggers in Eva’s back as they walk off.

  “Let me show you to the door.” I place my hand very lightly on her back, nudging her toward the front entrance.

  “Take your hand off me!” she hisses, slapping my arm away. “I’m well capable of finding the exit by myself.”

  “Suit yourself.” I stop at the reception desk, watching her stomp outside.

  “She’s a piece of work,” Dylan says, coming up behind me.

  “She’s not so bad. She’s just upset.”

  “What do you want me to do if she shows up here again?”

  “Don’t let her in, and if she wants to take out membership, tell her you’re full.” I eyeball him. “Under no circumstances do I want her working out here.” I feel confident making demands because I helped Dylan and Gary get a great deal on equipment when they first took over the gym, saving them thousands in the process, and I’ve never asked for any favors in return. But I need this one now.

  Dylan slaps me on the back. “Consider it done.” He jerks his head to the side. “Eva is getting changed, and she said she’d meet you in the main room in a few minutes.”