Page 10

CHAPTER TEN

Kaden/Ken

My dick doesn’t understand the difference.

T he Science Museum is bustling with families, couples, and groups of students, their voices a hum of background noise I tune out as I wait. I’ve been in far worse places, more dangerous places, and yet, as I stand near the entrance, something feels off. This is just a job. She’s just another mark. Smile, joke, charm her—just like always. No mistakes, no real feelings.

I shift my weight slightly, adjusting my stance. I keep my posture relaxed, but my focus remains sharp, my eyes scanning the entrance for any sign of her.

She’s late.

Not by much, only a few minutes, but it’s enough for me to notice. Enough to irritate me.

Then I see her.

Josie moves through the crowd, her gaze sweeping across the room, searching. She’s wearing a simple dress, something soft and flowing that clings in all the right places without seeming like she’s trying too hard. It’s effortless. Natural. And she’s completely oblivious to the way men’s heads turn as she walks past.

That irritates me more than her lateness.

I clench my jaw, forcing my features into something pleasant and inviting, the perfect balance of warmth and intrigue. She spots me and her face breaks into a smile, bright and open, and damn it, something unexpected tightens in my chest. I push the feeling down, reminding myself to stay focused. She’s a job, not a woman to get lost in.

“Hey,” she says, a little breathless as she stops in front of me. “Sorry I’m late.”

I shake my head, offering a small smile. “You’re right on time.”

She beams at that. And I hate that I notice how beautiful she looks when she’s happy.

“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, cursing my own reaction. How or what she feels doesn’t matter. I can’t afford to be distracted. Not now. Not by her.

Inside the museum the exhibits are sleek and modern. We make our way to the tech hall, which is full of glowing screens and interactive displays. I don’t do museums. No time. A group of noisy teens brush by us. Oh, yes, and people.

Josie doesn’t seem to mind the noise level or the jostling by strangers. She moves from exhibit to exhibit, completely enchanted, pointing things out, explaining concepts to me as if I don’t already understand them.

As we leave one section, before moving onto another, she asks me if I need to use the restroom, then blushes deep red when I look at her and tip my head to the side. Her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. It’s a hazard of the job. I never worried about how full a person’s bladder was before I started teaching little people.”

I can’t not smile at that. “We are what we do the most, I suppose.”

Her eyes fill with relief. “If I start explaining something to you in simple terms, that’s also not intentional. I’m working on that as well.”

I could tell her right then and there that someone who had installed the computers in her classroom probably understands how to use an interactive display designed for children, but I don’t. I remind myself the goal is to get her to like and trust me, but I’m not sure that’s the whole reason I don’t shoot her down.

I also don’t kick puppies. That doesn’t make me a good person, it’s just a line in the sand that I won’t cross.

But she’s not a puppy. She’s a potential danger to the entire AI network.

And she’s fucking good at acting innocent.

She stops at a robot display, watching as a humanoid bot demonstrates its programmed dance moves. There is a button with the words Dance with me on it.

“Oh, come on,” she says, laughing. “Not fair. That robot dances better than I do.”

I glance at the screen displaying its programming, quickly decoding the basic rhythm sequences. “It’s not doing anything overcomplicated.”

She turns to me, surprised. “Wait. Do you dance?”

I shrug. “I can follow a pattern.”

Without warning, she presses the button, and a song comes on with directions on how to follow along as well as a countdown. The screen flashes a question: One player or two? She hits two, then steps into a box of squares that are now illuminated on the carpet. “Dance off?”

Normally, I’d rather be stabbed in the eye with a bayonet twice than dance like a fool in a setting designed to entertain children, but I’m not Kaden today—I’m Ken. Ken would dance for her.

So, with a nod and a smile, I step into the boxes illuminated on the floor beside me and study the instructions that flash on the screen. The system will assess how accurate our footwork is and provide a score at the end. This one also assesses arm movement.

I’m no dancer, but fancy footwork is sometimes required while dodging bullets and endurance is definitely part of my training, as is attention to detail. So, when the music starts to blare, I’m all in and surprised at how challenging it is. I glance over at Josie. She’s taking the challenge seriously as well, but her face is glowing and she’s laughing at her missteps.

I return my attention to the screen and realize I’ve lost points and curse under my breath. When the song ends, my score is still higher than hers, but I don’t like by how little.

She stops and bends over, holding her side. “Man, I need to work out more.” Then she looks up at me. “You’re not even breathing heavy.”

“I reserve that for other activities.” I hear the words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. Her lips part slightly, eyes flicking away, heat rising in her cheeks. I should walk it back, make a joke—something. Instead, I watch her reaction, feeling that same heat coil low in my gut. Then I flex my shoulders back and inhale deeply. Yes, that line worked on her, but I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. When it comes to what I do, there’s no place for spontaneity.

She straightens, still looking flustered. “This is fun, right?”

The smile I shoot her is the perfect blend of non-threatening and interested. “With you, yes.”

Her head ducks again, and she blinks a few times quickly. I refuse to believe I’m the first man to flatter her. A quick look around confirms that if I weren’t there, she wouldn’t be alone. There’s even a man pushing a stroller who can’t keep his eyes off her. Dirtbag.

I step closer to her and give him the look all men understand. He moves away.

After an hour and twenty-five minutes, we leave the museum, the evening air cool and refreshing. I suggest we walk around a bit.

Josie gestures toward a small bakery on the corner. “Dessert?”

Normally, no. I stay in peak fighting condition by not indulging. But this date isn’t about what I want, it’s about getting her to lower her guard around me. So, I nod as if I’m eager for the experience.

She surprises me by not choosing one of the trendy, better-known bakeries. Instead, we stop at a smaller place along the way that has seating inside. As soon as we enter, the overwhelming scent of vanilla and sugar surrounds us. Josie greets the young man behind the counter by name. He swoops around the counter and lifts her off her feet into a hug. “How’s the new job?” he asks as he makes his way back behind the counter.

“I love it,” she answers.

“Making tons of new friends?”

Her cheerful expression falters. “Some.”

“It takes time,” the man says. “I’ve been here a year and sometimes I still miss home, but I don’t want to go back.”

“Yes. That’s exactly how I feel.”

“It’ll work out, Josie. Just stick with it.” He looks me over, but directs his question to her. “This guy with you?”

She quickly glances at me as if asking permission to confirm that. I put my arm around her waist and slide her closer. She smiles then says, “Simon, this is Ken. Ken, Simon grew up next door to us. Don’t believe anything he says about me.”

Interesting. I keep my expression open and friendly. “Tell me, was Josie always this sweet?”

Simon takes a moment to choose his words, and I half expect him to admit she wasn’t. Instead, his eyes meet hers, and his voice lowers, “Maybe a little too much so. It’s good to see her out here, trying new things. Life has to be about more than trying to make everyone around you happy.”

Josie tenses beneath my touch. “What can I say? Your departure inspired me to also try somewhere new.”

“Hey, chatterbox,” a round man in an apron says from behind the pastries. “Either they order, or they leave.”

I don’t like his tone. Me, not Ken, would have been up in that man’s face in a heartbeat asking him who the fuck he thinks he is. But I’m not me. I’m Ken. And as Ken, I look down at Josie with concern. She reassures me she’s fine and tells Simon to grab us two of whatever he considers the best they make.

He hands us a box a moment later, I pay, and we make our way back out onto the street. Playfully, I ask, “Do we trust your friend’s choice?”

Falling into step beside me, Josie hops with excitement. “Simon’s father was a baker. He knows.”

We pause and open the box. Two chocolate-covered cannoli along with a quick handwritten note: You got this .

Cute.

I show it to her.

She smiles. “Simon had it bad for my sister for a long time. For a while we thought it might work out between them, but she didn’t light up around him and... he finally realized that.”

A glimpse of her past and it’s as sugary and innocent as she wants everyone to believe she is. People live double lives, though. I’ve seen it. Evil knows how to disguise itself even around those closest to it.

I offer her one of the cannoli. She looks like she might take a bite of it while I’m holding it, then at the last moment takes it from me. Interesting.

The little moan she makes after the first bite isn’t as easy to stay unmoved by. My head snaps around, expecting her to meet my gaze, but she doesn’t. Either she doesn’t realize what that sound does to a man, or she does and she’s playing me as skillfully as I’m playing her.

Damn.

My dick doesn’t understand the difference and tightens the front of my slacks. To distract myself, I stuff my entire cannolo in my mouth.

She bursts out laughing. “They’re good, but you might want to slow down and give yourself time to enjoy it.”

No.

See that’s not an option.

I can be here. I can go through all the moves. But if I allow myself to enjoy it, the place where this has a very good chance of going will haunt me. Never let a target get under your skin. Never. That’s the first rule you learn from the agency. Caring is a weakness that leads to hesitation and that can get not only you killed but everyone else on your team.

I choke a little on the cannoli filling and take that as a wake-up smack from the universe. I’m good at what I do because I don’t overthink situations. I make the tough calls and because I do that the world is a safer place.

The streets are quieter now, the glow of streetlights casting long shadows. The tension between us has shifted. Still playful. But heavier.

This. This I can use.

She glances at me when she thinks I don’t notice. Her hand brushes against mine every now and then as we walk. Is it sexy? Yes. Am I turned on? Unfortunately, also yes.

But this is only a problem if it stops me from my objective and that is to find out what this woman is doing. I stop walking.

Josie pauses, turning to look at me, confused. “What—”

I step closer, watching her expression shift from curiosity to something softer.

And then I kiss her. It’s supposed to be calculated, just another step in securing her trust, but as soon as my lips brush against hers, I know I’ve made a mistake.

She sighs into the kiss, melts into it, and the warmth of her hits me like a live wire. She tastes like chocolate and something softer, something infuriatingly real. I meant to keep it brief. A simple touch. A tactic.

Instead, I linger. My hand slides to the small of her back, pressing her closer. It’s hot and heavy and unsettling as all hell. When I finally pull away, her eyes are wide, searching mine.

I school my expression back into something unreadable, taking a slow step back.

She’s equally turned on. The small breath she takes, the way she bites her bottom lip. All the signs are there.

Kaden would kiss her again. But Ken... I smile down at her and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “That wasn’t in your lesson plan, was it?”

She blinks, then laughs softly. “No. No, it wasn’t.” Her cheeks are flushed.

“It wasn’t in mine either, but it was nice.” I force myself to release her. “We should get you home.”

She nods while searching my face. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

I wonder what she sees in my expression: How much I want to kiss her again or how irritated I am with myself that I feel anything at all toward her.

It’s a school night so we decide to head back. We reach her apartment, she makes a move to leave the car, then stops.

I wait, watching her.

She’s fidgeting. That nervous, endearing energy she carries so naturally—like she’s wound too tight but doesn’t know how to let go. “I had a great time.”

I turn toward her. “I did too.”

She searches my face. “Are you married?”

“I am not.”

“Engaged?”

“Nope.”

She chews her bottom lip. “I find it hard to believe someone like you is single.”

Flashing her what I hope is my most charming smile, I say, “I work a lot. But I could say the same thing about you. Why don’t you have someone in your life? Or do you?”

She meets my gaze. “I almost did. Back home. We got along well, but there was no fire. No...” She stops. “Sorry, I don’t mean to talk about someone else.”

I reach out for her hand. “It doesn’t bother me. I want to know. You can tell me anything.”

Her fingers lace with mine. “I was happy where I was. Everything was really good. It just wasn’t great.” She looks away and then back. “I felt trapped in a role that I don’t even know how I fell into. I like people, but I started to feel held back by how much I was supposed to. Does that make sense? I wanted to be...”

“In control?”

“Free,” she corrected. “But freedom can be a little lonely, you know?”

Then she glances up at me, shy, hesitant, but with something else flickering behind her eyes. “I do know.” Lonely wasn’t what I’d call myself, but my lifestyle didn’t allow for lasting relationships. Part of why the agency had approached me was because I lacked family or a close network. There was no one I cared enough about that anyone could weaponize them against me.

Josie and I sit there, holding hands, fogging up the windows of my car. She’d taken the train into Boston. Classic move to give us the ability to come back together. Not nearly as innocent as she likes to pretend. “Want to hear something funny?” she asks while looking down at our linked hands.

I tilt my head slightly. “Funny? Sure.”

She brings her free hand up to her mouth, a nervous tell. “My landlord is quite a character,” she starts, biting her lip. “She, uh, told me that she doesn’t mind if I have male company but...”

“But?”

She groans, covering her face with her hands for a second before peeking at me through her fingers. “But she asked me to keep the noise down after eight.” Josie lets out a nervous, breathy laugh. When I don’t immediately respond, she begins to turn that delightful deep red again and tries to pull her fingers from mine. “I don’t know why I said that.”

I tighten my grip on her hand, not letting her go. Then I lean in until my lips almost touch her cheek, and deepen my voice. “I can be quiet.”

Her breath catches.

Her eyes widen and I see it—desire. That fire she said she hadn’t found in whoever she left back home.

I don’t move.

She doesn’t either.

The air between us is taut, humming, charged with something I didn’t intend to ignite.

She shifts to her side, hands tightening slightly on the strap of her bag. I watch the delicate movement of her throat as she swallows.

Her eyes meet mine again. “Me too,” she whispers and all thought of how to use this situation for my advantage falls out of my head.