Wanting Mr. Cane (Cane 1)

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.