Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
KENNEDY
GOOD THING I’M NOT IN THE BUSINESS OF PLEASING MEN WHO THREATEN ME.
We’d won the game, and while the guys went out to celebrate, I decided to come back home, get in some comfortable clothes, and work on the last details of the gala while hanging out with Captain Sushi in Henry’s bed.
It’d become my new norm. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept or hung out in my own room. There was something comforting about being in his bed, where Henry’s familiar scent lingered. It was like being at peace and at home.
I took one last look at the number of people who had RSVP’d.
Almost double the attendees we had the previous year—which was exciting—but it also served as a fresh reminder of the opportunities we’d be missing since FirstGen decided to drop out of the charity event.
Through no fault of their own, of course.
I just wish Brad had been able to convince them to stay.
My chest tightened at the thought. While Brad didn’t blame me and assured me time and time again the job I did was still great, I still doubted my ability to lead.
To manage. I blamed myself, even if just a little.
I should have known better and kept a closer eye on Matt.
I should have scheduled all meetings outside of HQ.
There were so many things I could have done differently.
A knock on the door pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Sush’s ears perked up at the sound, but when I reached down to pet his head, he went right back to batting around his favorite plush toy.
Another knock followed a few seconds later, more insistent this time.
I grabbed my favorite pink cardigan, slipping it on as I made my way to the hallway.
The moment I opened the door, my pulse spiked.
“You must be Kennedy.” The gruffness of his voice caught me off guard, because it was similar to Henry’s but not quite the same.
It was hard not to notice the similarities between Vincent Anderson and his son.
Their builds were nearly identical, and his hair had the same soft texture and dark color as Henry’s, though his was streaked with gray.
His eyes were blue, but they lacked the familiar warmth I’d come to love from Henry’s.
“May I help you?” Feigning ignorance was the safest bet. I put on the professional mask and hoped to God I wasn’t going to crack.
“I’m Vincent Anderson, Henry’s—”
“I know who you are,” I replied coldly, but as professionally as I could.
He smirked while his eyes roamed my body in a way that made me recoil. “I bet you do.”
It took everything in me to keep my scoff in check. “How did you get past security?”
“Well, my name does carry some weight.”
Figured as much.
“Are you not going to let me in?” he asked.
I gripped the frame door and opened it wider. Maybe if I obliged him, he’d leave faster. “Of course, come on in. Would you like something to drink?” I asked as I strode into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed a water for myself. I wasn’t even thirsty. I only needed to keep my hands busy.
“No, thank you. This will be quick.”
I turned around as I opened the water and took a sip, hoping to ease some of my nerves. “Henry’s not here.”
“I know. I came here to see you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on one of the barstools. “I’m not one to beat around the bush, so tell me. How much is my son paying you?”
I took a step back, like I’d been slapped in the face. “Excuse me?”
He clasped his hands with a laugh, but the sound was calculated. It held no humor. “How much is my son paying you to date him? To clean up his reputation. There must be some sort of arrangement here, because you’re not the typical woman he goes for.”
A few months ago, the comment would have slashed me.
There was no denying the evil glint in his eyes.
He was fishing. Looking for a way to hurt me.
But I knew better. Henry showed me time and time again how much he appreciated me with every little thing he did.
While his father certainly wasn’t wrong, and Henry used to cycle through different kinds of women in the past, that was then.
“I’m not quite sure what you’re implying, but I think you should choose your next words carefully,” I replied as evenly tempered as I could.
He chuckled, and the way he met my eyes made my body tremble slightly with unknown fear. But I quickly shoved it down. Men like him feasted on fear and insecurity.
“I looked into you,” he said, straightening as his hands gripped the leather of the bar stool with casual authority.
“Kennedy Jones. Thirty-two years old. Only child. Graduated top of your class at USC. Their PR program’s no joke, so that was a nice surprise.
You’ve been working for the Strikers for about three years now. ”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he didn’t give me the chance.
“You were engaged for a while. Called it off a few months before the wedding. Left you in a fair amount of debt, calling it off so late. What a shame, truly.” He let out a low whistle as he straightened to his full height and stepped closer, crowding my space, trying to intimidate me.
My pulse spiked, and I could feel my face pale. How the hell did he know that?
His grin was diabolical, calculated. “You look stunned. Can’t say I blame you. But this is what I do. If someone’s trying to get close to the Anderson name, I make sure I know who they are.”
I crossed my arms and balled my hands in a fist, letting my nails bite at the flesh of my palms. I was entering anger territory and holding on by a single thread. “To be honest with you, Mr. Anderson, I couldn’t care less what Henry’s last name is.”
He clicked his tongue with a quick nod. “You should. Not every woman can carry the last name gracefully. Henry’s mother certainly couldn’t.”
Oh, this motherfucker.
I bit the inside of my cheek until pain shot through me. There was so much I wanted to say. But I couldn’t destroy the trust I’d built with Henry. Not over a man like the one who stood in front of me.
“Nothing to say? Interesting.” His voice was laced with a quiet malice that clung to every word. “I’ll keep talking, then, and you listen, okay?”
I furrowed my brows, stunned by how casually he kept sputtering shit out of his mouth like he didn’t give a damn about anything. Like the world revolved solely around him.
“You’re going to break up with my son,” he continued, and this time he slowly stepped toward the other side of the kitchen island until we both faced each other, right in front of the fridge.
“In exchange, I’ll pay off your debt. I’ll even put in a good word with the team’s owner about that director position you’ve been eyeing.
He and I go way back. I can cash in the favor at any moment.
” He shrugged like it was nothing. “You could go far with me in your corner, Kennedy. Real far.”
My blood ran cold. Anger curled in my stomach like a fist, and my chest tightened to the point of pain.
Every breath I took was harder than the last. This man acted like humans were transactions.
And right now, I was another deal to him.
A woman with debt and ambition. A problem with a price tag.
This was my first time meeting him, and he already spoke to me like he had me all figured out.
There were no words to explain the fury that ran through my veins like liquid fire. It burned my insides. Suffocated me. Who the fuck did he think he was? Was he delusional enough to think I’d turn against the man I loved for money?
Yeah. Loved. I loved Henry with everything I had. He didn’t know it, but that didn’t change the fact that it was the truest thing I’d ever felt.
I smoothed my expression, forced my shoulders to relax, and met his gaze with a stare as steady as ice. “You can memorize all these facts about me, but don’t get it twisted. This doesn’t mean that you know me.” A humorless laugh bubbled out of me. “It’s funny you think you can buy me.”
He clenched his jaw and glanced toward the fridge. I saw it then—a flicker of annoyance, maybe even surprise.
Good. I hoped it pisses you off, I thought.
His gaze lingered on the fridge, a slight frown tugging at his features—then a low, menacing chuckle slipped from his throat.
“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me, Kennedy,” he said smugly, reaching behind me to grab something from the fridge.
When he pulled back, my blood ran cold. He held up a single sheet of paper, casually pinched between his fingers like it was nothing.
“I wonder what the organization would think if they knew about this?”
My stomach twisted, nausea rising in my throat the second I recognized it. It wasn’t just any piece of paper. It was the contract.
This is not the time to freak out, Kennedy. Get. It. Together.
I lifted my chin and took a steady breath, trying to calm the pain in my chest. I casually reached for the piece of paper.
To my surprise, he let me grab it. “Good thing I’m not in the business of pleasing men who threaten me.
” Every word I spoke was cold. Strong. Filled with venom.
God, I hated this man. For everything he’d put Henry through.
For him, striding into our home and thinking he could get away with anything.
He grazed his teeth with his tongue, keeping his smug smile in check.
“You have until the day after the gala to decide what you want to do. Break up with him, and everyone comes out unscathed. Go against me, and I will tell the organization the discovery I made today. I will make it seem like you took advantage of his kindness, and your career will be over. His will be over, too. They’ll drop him.
I will make sure of it. Is this what you want?
For everything you’ve both worked for to go up in flames? Are you willing to ruin his career?”
“Why are you doing this?” My question came out breathless. I couldn’t understand it. Why was he trying to make his son so miserable? Hadn’t he done enough damage already? How could someone be so evil?
Before he could answer, the sound of keys rattling and the door opening made me jump.
“Kenny?” When Henry came into view, his eyes landed on me first. They were soft and welcoming, but when his gaze flicked to his father, he stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw ticked. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Mr. Anderson took a casual step back, his expression morphing into a fake smile. “We were having a little chat,” he said. “Getting to know each other better.”
“No, I mean, what are you doing here in Chicago? In our fucking apartment?” Henry asked through gritted teeth as he took a few steps closer.
“I heard through the grapevine that tonight was your comeback. Against our home team, no less, so I came to watch. I dropped by to say hello, but you weren’t here, so I asked Kennedy if I could wait.”
Henry narrowed his eyes with a scoff. “Okay, so…you already said hello. You can leave now.”
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence fell between us. Then Mr. Anderson met my stare. They held a silent warning that was hard to ignore. “It was lovely to meet you, Kennedy.”
“Likewise,” I forced out.
Mr. Anderson took a few deliberate steps until he stood in front of Henry. “Let’s hope this wasn’t a happy accident and you’re actually able to lead the team to a win this season. You’ve been on this team long enough, it’s time you make a statement with our last name once and for all.”
“Aaand there it is,” Henry muttered to himself. “Is that all?”
“I’m here for a few more days. We should go have dinner. My treat,” Mr. Anderson said casually.
My God, this man was the textbook definition of a psychopath. The way he so easily went from a full-on villain to this was genuinely concerning.
Henry shook his head with a bitter laugh. “No, thanks.”
Mr. Anderson nodded, and as he walked toward the exit, he turned around and walked backward, shooting me a wink that sent shivers down my spine—and not the good kind.
As soon as the door closed, Henry was all over me. He cradled my cheeks between his calloused hands as he scanned my whole face with a concerned frown. “You okay?”
No. I desperately needed my inhaler, but I didn’t want to do it in front of Henry. I didn’t want to remind him how far from perfect I was.
I couldn’t answer right away. But after a few silent beats, I cleared my throat and managed to give him a simple smile. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I was about to, he’d only been here for a few minutes.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“No,” I blurted. “We were just talking about the season. You know how retired hockey players are. That’s the only small talk they can handle.” I forced a laugh.
Was lying to him a mistake? Most likely. But how exactly was I supposed to say, “Yeah, so, your dad threatened me to make me break up with you. But hey, welcome home and congrats on making the playoffs!”
It was Henry’s first night back, and I refused to let his father taint it. He’d already done enough damage. I would figure something out. I’d taken care of myself my whole life, and I could do it again.
This isn’t about just you anymore, my brain all but screamed. You have Henry to think about. A relationship to take into consideration. This doesn’t only affect you.