19. Kennedy
Kennedy
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Past
My lips still tingle from the intensity of his kiss, and if it weren't just a few weeks until my nineteenth birthday, I would think I was about to die of a heart attack from the way my heart is pounding in my chest.
"Do you need to answer that?"
No, I don't need to, because I suspect it's Pam. She's been sending me several messages throughout the day asking what time I'll be home, even though I told her it's better not to wait for me since I'll be back around eleven.
Since I left the casino long before my shift ended, there's no reason for me to respond, so I ignored all the other messages after the first one.
She seems a bit spoiled, used to getting everything with a snap of her fingers.
"Yes, I do," I lie because I'm still shaking from the way he kissed me.
I need to get a grip and think with my brain, not my body.
Without looking at him, I take my phone out of my bag, but I move away from him on the seat before doing so because the screen is cracked, and I don't want to shove my poverty in the face of this man who probably doesn't know what it's like to worry about money.
With every move I make, the Greek's eyes are on me. Hades is so intense that I feel like even without touching me, he's touching me everywhere.
My hand is trembling as I swipe my finger across the screen. "Hello?"
"Juliet, where are you?"
"I don't usually respond when I'm called Juliet, so be warned again that I prefer Kennedy," I reply, a little annoyed because it's the third time I've told her that, even when I replied to the first message.
"I like Juliet."
I decide to ignore her. "As for the answer to your question, I already told you I wouldn't be home before eleven, Pam."
Hades
Past
My first feeling when she decided to answer the phone was irritation. I don't like interruptions, especially when they come between me and what I desire.
Despite that, I decided to let Kennedy catch her breath a bit and answer the call, before I used heavy artillery to convince her to spend the night with me.
I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I have nothing more to do in New Orleans, and I can't think of a better way to bid farewell to the city than inside the woman who made me hard with just a simple kiss.
I'm not interested in any conversation she has on the phone, so the almost obsessive way I watch Kennedy as she takes her phone out of her bag has nothing to do with wanting to know who the hell interrupted us and everything to do with the fact that I can't take my eyes off the woman.
And that’s why, totally focused on her actions just inches away from me, when I hear the woman on the other end—it’s easy to tell it’s a woman because the voice is a bit too loud—call her "Juliet," I think my mind is playing tricks on me.
The name immediately reminds me of the conversation I had earlier today with Vina.
It's the same name as the girl who will be living in Manhattan with them.
I don't even have time to think about the coincidence of also knowing someone in New Orleans with that name, when her response to the person makes my blood run cold.
"I don't usually respond when I'm called Juliet, so be warned again that I prefer Kennedy. As for the answer to your question, I already told you I wouldn't be home before eleven, Pam."
Fuck! I can't believe this is happening. I was about to take Pam's almost-cousin to bed?
Vina's almost -granddaughter?
Damn it!
I feel a layer of sweat cover my neck, my brain short-circuiting as I try to remember how old the girl is that Vina told me about.
Almost nineteen.
Nineteen fucking years. Too young for what I thought of doing with her today.
I shut off my brain from the conversation, impatiently waiting for it to end, and as soon as she puts the phone back in her bag, I ask, "Who are you?"
"What?"
"What's your full name?"
I see suspicion spread across her features, and at the same time, she moves away from me in a clearly defensive posture. "Why do you want to know? I haven't done anything wrong."
Fear.
Kennedy . . . or rather, Juliet, whatever her real name is, is afraid of me.
"I told you mine."
"We're not part of each other's world. Your name means nothing in my universe."
"Did you lie? Is your name not Kennedy?" I ask directly, tired of this cat and mouse game because right now guilt is spreading through every cell of my body.
Her hands clasp together in her lap, and I see her tighten them. It's not a very obvious movement, and to a less observant man, it would go unnoticed, but not by me.
Just as she did when she first got into the car, she focuses ahead. "My name is Kennedy Juliet O'Neal, and if you're from the police, know that I've never stolen anything in my life, no matter what they may have told you at the casino or where I live."
What the hell was that?
"I'm not from the police, and I didn't accuse you of anything."
"Then who are you? Did you come after me for some reason other than getting 'company' for the night in a strange city?" she says in an aggressive tone.
I don't know what she'll think when I reveal the truth to her—that it seems fate has brought us together on a whim when I shouldn't be within a mile of her.
But before I have the chance to respond, she checks the time on her phone. "It doesn't matter, we're about five minutes away from my house, and after today, we won't see each other again."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Kennedy."
"Did you just threaten me?"
"Threaten you? I made a simple statement."
She remains silent for the rest of the journey, but when the car parks on a street with tiny houses all crammed together and a lot of garbage on the sidewalks, she turns to me.
Fuck, is this where she lives? Now more than ever, I'm sure I'll never allow Kennedy to stay in this neighborhood.
"Who are you, Hades Kostanidis?"
As I stare at her, my mind gets all the pieces together about her.
The ones that came from Vina, from the bosses at the casino, and from Kennedy herself.
No, maybe she's not a good companion for Pam, and the voice of reason tells me to keep them away from each other, but my conscience takes over.
I can't let the girl live in a place like this. Kennedy is beautiful and alone; she'll be an easy target for bad-intentioned people, no matter how tough she thinks she is.
I stare back at her. "I'm the man who won't let you ruin your own life, girl."