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Craving Mr. Cane Single Red Rose
It catches him off guard. I know it does even if he hides it. A minor flinch. He quickly drew his hand away. The water from his hand dripped on the kitchen floor. I take a seat on the kitchen island, facing away from him. Giving him the space he needs. I find something to do with my hands. All the vegetables are peeled and sliced. I take a few more potatoes and begin peeling. Nothing wrong with a few more potatoes. He leans bank on the kitchen sink. I can feel his gaze burning my back. He took his time before he finally answered, “Okay.” I don’t move from my spot, I just wait. Like a feral animal, I wait for him to come to me. Is this what it’s like to tame something so wild? A few more seconds pass. Then a click. Charlie barks. She hates the sound of the coffee grinding machine. I’m done with the first potato by the time he has finished with the monstrosity that he calls his beloved espresso machine. The scraping of the wooden chair on my right alerts me to his movements. S
Craving Mr. Cane She-Devil
Lunch with the girls is always the highlight of my day. The sight of their friendly and sometimes goofy faces makes my day a little bit okay. The teasing and banter are something I look forward to even if I act like I don’t like it. I consider them my first true friends. They’ve been my lifeline in the past crappy weeks in the company and I couldn’t have been more grateful. I love them, every single one of them. Except for today, I can categorically state that they’re annoying as hell. “What do you mean he’s sitting with us? Again? Wasn’t he here last time?” Rosie asked through a spoonful of what seemed to be mush. “Girl, let him sit wherever he likes,” Charlie insisted. “This isn’t high school.” “Oh, that’s nice, let the man you’re thirsting for sit here even if he’s trying to bag your friend,” Rosie responded. “It is a girls-only table,” Andrea said beside me. “Charlie’s practically more of a woman than me anyway,” she added. “Agree,” Rosie said. “So why are we letting that
Craving Mr. Cane Arranged Marriage
Austin The door slamming makes me swivel my chair back. “Austin,” Samantha Cane said in a way of greeting. I murmur a goodbye to the head of the I.T. Department and switch my phone to silent. I don’t want distractions for this. I raise my head, that’s all she’s going to get today. “That’s no way to greet your own mother,” she said. She stands by the large windows. I don’t respond. She’s baiting me. Why else would she visit me here? “It’s a little cramped in here, no proper ventilation,” she said. Inspecting the room further. “Didn’t you hire Elaine? She’s the best interior designer in town.” I remain passive, looking almost bored. But I know her every move is calculated, precise, and deliberate. She makes herself comfortable on the leather sofa by the window. She purposely disregarded the chair in front of my desk. A power move. Of course, wouldn’t want to seem like a subordinate in any way. “Oh, my… those are just atrocious,” she commented on the antiques on top of my table
Craving Mr. Cane Bullshit
Am I still dreaming? I stay still. Maybe if I don’t move, he won’t go away. His intense gaze lingers on my skin. His disheveled appearance against the moonlight reflecting from the large windows gives him an ethereal look, I can’t keep my eyes away from him. He flicks his gaze toward my face, not stopping his ministrations. He dips his finger under. I let him. The intensity of this moment leaves me breathless. All of a sudden, he snaps out of it. Like slowly waking up from a dream, he blinks his eyes. Next, he removes his hands from me. It would have been better if it was abrupt, not this slow and gentle detachment. As if he doesn’t want to, but rather has to. He grips my waist, one last time before standing and quickly turning away. “You shouldn’t sleep here, it’s cold,” his grave voice makes me feel like I’m prey. That I’m in danger and he will pounce anytime. One part of me is curious, and the other part is anxious. Studying him as he strode to his room, his unkempt ap
Craving Mr. Cane Second Chances
A split second, a moment of euphoria. Then it all came crashing down. My instincts kicked in, the way he enveloped me. I’m caged in, pinned to the door. I can’t breathe. My heart is pounding and it’s not the good kind. I push his chest. He swiftly pulls back. He gazed at me, the hurt and bewilderment were clear in his eyes. “I thought…” he said. I grasp the doorknob to my left to hold onto something. He tried to reach out but it made things worse. Dark room. Enclosed space. I’m pinned. I blink a couple of times. My eyes searched for anything to focus on to distract myself. The windows. His huge chair. That weird bust of a man on top of his desk over there. This door is an exit. Sharp quick breath and exhale longer. I can get out anytime. I can get out if I want to. There’s no need to panic. “I apologize if I misinterpreted things,” he looked contrite, like a boy who did something wrong. “No, it’s fine, you just surprised me,” I croaked out. My voice was still a little br
Craving Mr. Cane Euphoria
A beat. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Another moment passed. “What… who?” He hesitated, “Is that, is it okay to ask?” I nod. “It’s okay now, I think,” I whisper. “When?” “I was a lot younger, a neighbor… he was,” I gulped, “he was my only friend,” I looked away from him. The shame building up is trying to force its way out. The lump in my throat does not allow me to continue. “Was he older?” “No, I mean, just a bit. A year older, maybe. We were in the same school,” I said. “Your parents?” “They didn’t believe me when I told them, my mom brushed it off.” He winced at this. The hurt I felt when my own mom didn’t believe me is still fresh in my mind. “And Augustus, of course, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself,” I said. He clenched his fist. “It was just the one time,” I tried to justify. Make light of the situation, perhaps. So that I don’t inconvenience anyone because of my experience. He doesn’t respond. The visible anger on his face makes me
Craving Mr. Cane Free Falling
I have a secret. There was no decision to be made. I had no choice. I knew. The moment he crashed into me on that first day, I knew he would be something to me. A tormentor? Yes, at first he really was. Bane of my existence? Yes, more accurately. Perfectly described him when he called me stupid to my face. But he was also the reason I kept on fighting. He brought out something in me that wanted to claw itself out. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to be better. There was a need to show him that I can be. But more importantly, I craved to prove to myself that I am capable. That I am valuable. I’m worth something. That may be my ego talking. But it screamed nonetheless. He challenged me, he forced me to push harder than I ever did. He brought out the side of me that was capable of so many other things. For better or for worse, he called something in me and it responded. It’s not a matter of choice, we don’t actually have a say in what our heart wants. It just is what it
Craving Mr. Cane Rules
Austin “I don’t know what else you want me to say, Austin, the papers are legitimate,” the family lawyer snapped. “Find me a solution, don’t just tell me there’s nothing I can do, it’s been days, Wayne,” I said, exasperated. “And do what? Short of raising your father from the dead and making him rewrite it, there’s nothing I can do,” he began to raise his voice. His pudgy face flushed and scrunched up does no good in assuring me that this man can help. He puffs on his cigar and then takes a swig out of his tumbler of scotch. His overall plumpness and lethargy irritate me. “Look, kid, just go with what your mother is telling you,” he points his cigar at me. “We’ve looked over the matter, there’s no way out. You can consult everyone else out there but they’re going to say the same thing, so save yourself the trouble.” He’s antsy to leave and dismissive to the point of discourtesy. A minor inconvenience. It feels like he’s just getting rid of a pesky mosquito, not talking about my
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