Chapter Eight

Sean

Morning sun slants in through the curtain, and I reach across the bed for sweet Kennedy, who totally gave herself to me last night. I’m shocked how the first thing to cross my mind in the morning is her, how reaching for her has become somewhat of a habit. But when my hand comes up empty and I find the sheets cold, I jackknife up and glance around the room.

“Kennedy,” I call out and kick my sheets off. No sense in calling her Kitten anymore. The cat’s out of the bag, so to speak, since I called her by her real name in bed last night. I pad to the bathroom and stick my head inside. Unease curls through me, and I spin around. Where the hell did she go?

I grab my clothes off the floor, tug on my pants and shirt, and notice the little white envelope on the floor. I pick it up and examine it. Deanna? Shit, who the hell is Deanna? My tired brain races, but I don’t give two shits who Deanna is, or how her key card ended up on my bathroom floor. The only girl I care about is Kennedy, and she’s nowhere to be found. Even her clothes are gone. I reach for my cell, only to realize we hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers. Dumbass.

Finger-combing my hair, I step out of my suite and dart to the elevator. I ride to her floor and knock on her door. I pace restlessly as I wait for her to open it, but my gut is already telling me she’s not inside. I try the front reception and feel physically ill when they tell me she checked out.

Feeling like I’ve been sucker punched, I sink into one of the chairs, plant my elbows on my knees, and drop my head into my palms. Kennedy’s gone. Why the fuck would she just up and leave in the middle of the night like that? Not even a good-bye or a fuck-off. Nice, real nice. It’s something I would have done in the past.

In the past? When the hell was that, last week? Jesus, I can’t believe how much I’ve changed since falling into bed with my sister’s best friend.

I sort through everything, from the second she chased me down the rain-soaked street to waking up in bed alone. Obviously, she was playing a game with me and didn’t want me to know who she was. Had I totally fucked it up by calling her Kennedy? Did she never want me to know who she was? Never want anything other than sex from me? Guess not, considering she took off.

I push from the seat and step outside, needing the cold morning air to help clear my head and get my thoughts straight. I walk the busy sidewalk, pass a few stores on the way, and play with my phone in my pocket. Whatever this was all about with Kennedy, my sister was clearly involved. I pull my phone and shoot her a text.

“Tell me what’s going on with Kennedy?” A second later my phone rings, and I slide my finger across the screen to answer. “What’s going on, Olivia?”

She’s hesitant at first, then says, “We had a pact.”

“A pact?”

“Yeah,” she says, and then explains the whole New Year’s Eve name-drawing game they were all involved in.

“So you thought you’d send her to me? For epic sex?”

“She’s always had a thing for you, Sean, and you’ve been into her for just as long. I thought you both needed a push in the right direction.”

Fuck. I rake my hands through my hair, lean against the window of a confectionary store, and say, “You knew.”

“Of course I knew.”

“I figured Kennedy was the last girl you’d want me to be around.”

“She is the last girl I want you to be around. Meaning she’s the one for you. I’ve always known that. I just don’t think the timing has ever been right.”

“She is the one for me,” I say, my heart racing. “But she took off.”

Olivia laughs. “Jesus, she really did a number on you, didn’t she?”

“Olivia—”

“Look, I’ve known you for twenty-five years. You’re a ruthless businessman, a tough negotiator. Since when did you ever let anyone or anything stand in the way of getting what you wanted?”

“Never.”

“Right.”

I push off the building and glance inside the store. “I’ll talk to you later, Olivia,” I say, and power down my phone. With renewed purpose, I grab the door handle and walk into the market. My pulse leaps when I find what I’m looking for. Oh, yeah. Kennedy is going to be mine, even if I have to tie her to my bed until she understands that.