The Seduction

by Jessie Jones

"I've been busy," John replied as he released his brother and sat back down. Taking one last look at the screen of his laptop, the Brit let out a sigh before he closed it. He downed the glass of whiskey that was on the table before pouring himself another. He then motioned for the waiter, who brought him another.

  Intercepting the bottle from the waiter, Patrick eyed John a minute as he asked, "How many of these have you had today, Johnny?"

  "Not enough," John half-snarled as he downed the second glass of whiskey before he leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his coal-black hair.

  "Dammit, boyo!" Patrick exclaimed as he took a seat across from John. "You know I was hoping that once the American left, you would go back to normal, but clearly, I was wrong. According to Duff, when you're not working, you have been on a bender and flogging the asphalt rather dangerously on your motorcycle. What the hell is going on with you, Johnny? She's one damn woman! Fuck another one, and get on with it!"

  "It's not like you to be so hypocritical, Pat," John said, his brown eyes darkening slightly. "If it's so easy to fuck another woman, then why haven't you done it? According to the guards, you've been drowning yourself in liquor instead of pussy. Why is that?"

  "Fuck off, John!" Patrick replied, flipping off the man he considered a brother. He hated when the British son of a bitch kept tabs on him when he traveled. The Irishman, however, did the same. Luther and Duff both had reported to Patrick that John was not acting like himself since Gillian left, and it was unlike them to worry. "We're not talking about me, boyo. Why are you so concerned with what I do or don't do in my bed? I say good riddance to the bitch! We got what we wanted from her, Johnny! Besides, you got rid of her! Stop moping around and move on!"

  "I didn't get rid of her, dammit!" John yelled as he stood up and threw his glass across the room. It shattered on the floor. "Kitten fucking left me! Me! John fucking Kenric! I could have given her the world, and she didn't want it!" John then dropped down in the chair as he closed his eyes to keep from shedding the tears welling up in his molasses colored eyes. Opening them, his eyes met the Irishman's as he softly said, "She didn't want me, Pat."

  Patrick poured John another glass of whiskey as he watched his best mate struggle for control of his emotions. The Irishman was absolutely shocked at the Brit's words. When had John ever cared about what a woman thought of him? John was talking as if he had feelings for Gillian Morgan. What the fuck was happening? Patrick was extremely worried about his brother. John was not one to display his emotions and definitely not over a woman. Duff had told him that the Brit had been out all hours of the night on his motorcycle drinking and was insisting that he be left alone. They had too many enemies out there for John to be so reckless with his own safety. If something ever happened to John, well, the thought was just too painful for Patrick to finish. There was no way that the Irishman could go on without John in his life. How dare Gillian upset his mate like this!

  "I don't understand, Johnny," he began, wanting to take away the pain he saw in his brother's eyes. "Gillian clearly wanted you the night of the party, mate. She may have been lying to us about her past, but she was completely truthful in her feelings while we were fucking her. If I'm being honest with you, I felt it too."

  John's chestnut colored eyes met Patrick's as he wondered if his brother was admitting that he, too, felt something for Gillian? He knew the man was trying to fight his feelings for the doctor, but he wanted to see if he would admit the truth. John had been in absolute misery since Gillian had left. He had been unable to drink, eat, or sleep, and his body physically ached. He had never done drugs, but he was sure what he was feeling was what an addict felt when they were going through withdrawal. John had spent countless hours watching Gillian's every move and was doing so when Patrick had arrived for lunch. Even though the Irishman didn't want to admit it, John knew that he also was spying on the American. John felt like a real bastard for how he had treated Gillian, and it crushed him to see her cry. Duff had told him what her reaction had been to the note and check, and John had spent the rest of the day getting drunk.

  Glad that John had not responded to his admission, Patrick asked, "So, what exactly happened? I figured you were the one who made her leave, but it sounds as though she decided to go."

  "I'm not even sure," John replied, taking a sip of the whiskey. The brown liquor did nothing to ease the pain in his chest and only soured his stomach more. "I was getting ready to grab Gillian for breakfast when I ran into her downstairs. Before I knew what was happening, she slapped me across the face. At the time, I had no idea why she was angry at me and demanding to leave. I have since learned, by watching the camera footage from my suite, that she had a brief encounter with Pandora that ended in kitten slapping her in the face. My ex-mistress has since disappeared, so I can't find out what she said to Gillian to make her so upset. I have a feeling that it involved Pandora lying about us sleeping together."

  John had been beyond livid when Gillian had told him that she wanted to leave. That feeling had only grown in intensity when he had attempted to kiss her and she had resisted him. John had felt completely and totally rejected by the American and had reacted by trying to hurt her just as she had hurt him. After he had spent the day drinking and wallowing in his own shit, John had tried to piece together what had possibly happened. As he told Patrick, he had gone back and watched the camera footage and had seen Pandora talking to Gillian in his suite. He had been surprised to see kitten hit the Greek woman, and even more so to watch her break down and cry in the bathroom. Gillian's line of questioning that morning led him to hypothesize what had occurred. His admission of seeing Pandora that morning, while innocent, had sealed his fate.

  "Of course, the Greek bitch lied, John," Patrick said in disgust. He knew Pandora could not be trusted. He wished it wouldn't have taken John so long to realize it. If he found the bitch, Patrick would personally kill her for causing John pain. "Pandora has always been jealous of the women who have come into your life. She was acting like a vindictive child that night at the party. Bailey told us about the incident between Gillian and Pandora that occurred in the bathroom. The bitch was blatantly lying to your American and trying to piss her off."

  Patrick was right. Bailey had told John about what occurred between Pandora and Gillian in the bathroom but too late. His kitten had already left the manor and was packing her things to leave England when he found out. Knowing that John had put Gillian in a vulnerable state by pulling her out into the public eye, the Brit was having her guarded 24/7. Even now, Gillian was staying at a place owned by his personal secretary, Tania. He even had guards living upstairs in the servants' quarters. John had called in a personal favor to Tania's stepbrother who was also going to give Gillian a job in his hospital. It was the least he could do for the way he had treated her.

  "I think I fucked up, Pat," John said quietly with his thoughts turning to his treatment of the American. He quickly poured another glass and downed its contents. Leaning back in the chair, he ran an agitated hand through his ebony hair. "Gillian is clearly moving on with her life, and I can't even close my fucking eyes to sleep without seeing her! Not once has she attempted to contact me, and I know Galen was in London looking for her! The slimy bastard got out before I could kill him, though. Now he, too, has disappeared. How much you want to bet that he and Pandora have found each other?"

  "I don't think Gillian is moving on, Johnny," Patrick said honestly as John's eyes met his again. "You and I have both been watching her every move, and she appears to be anything but happy. I think you have something to do with that, boyo."

  "I hurt her, Pat," John said seriously, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I treated her no better than a whore. Kitten didn't deserve that, but she does deserve more than I can ever give her. I should just let her move on with her life and go back to her idea of normalcy."

  "Bullocks!" Patrick shouted. "So, you hurt her tender feelings! Apologize! And just for the record, Gillian could never find a man bet
ter than you, Johnny! There is a not a woman alive whom you have not been able to woo, boyo. I somehow doubt your precious kitten will be the first. You said yourself that you're John fucking Kenric, so act like it! Go to France and take what belongs to you, with or without her permission!"

  A slow, devious smile spread across John's handsome face as he listened to Patrick's words. Standing up, he buttoned his suit jacket as he grinned. "Call Luther and tell him to gas the plane. I hear Paris is beautiful in the fall. Care to join me?"

  The Irishman chuckled loudly as he watched John turn and leave the restaurant. The American had no idea what was about to happen to her. John always got what he wanted and Gillian was going to be no exception. He couldn't help the smile that lingered on his own face at the thought of having access to the American woman again. Since his best mate was going to be so insistent on having his kitten, Patrick could enjoy her as well without any type of commitment on his part. Maybe then, he and John could finally get Gillian out of his system once she was back in London. At least, they would have fun trying.

  Chapter 7

  Gillian pulled off her black rimmed glasses and rubbed her tired eyes before picking up the bottle of beer on the table in front of her. Realizing that she had reached the bottom of her drink, she made her way into the kitchen to grab another. After walking back into the living room, she popped off the top and took another drink before staring at the paperwork that sat on the coffee table. She was working on some mandatory stuff for her hospital employment and also making herself some dinner. The truth of the matter was Gillian was trying to do anything to get her mind off John Kenric, but she was failing miserably. She was already on her third beer and could not seem to do anything but sit and watch the Brit and his brother on the television. Clearly, the media loved them.

  Letting out a long sigh, she walked over to the piano that sat in the foyer. Her well-manicured fingers grazed the black and white keys as her mind immediately went to the night of the party when John had eaten her pussy on the piano. Her clit began to instantly throb, and she squeezed her legs together at the sensation. Gillian was used to going without sex for long periods of time, but since meeting John, she found herself masturbating every chance she got. Even now, she fought the urge to slide her hand into her black, lace boy shorts as the image of John's face buried between her legs played out before her. Disgusted with herself, Gillian slammed the lid of the piano and took a long drink of her beer. She had to get her shit together and get over John Kenric! The man was moving on with his life, and if she was being honest with herself, John had made his intentions clear with her. He had wanted to have sex, and Gillian had happily and willingly obliged him. Leave it to her to develop feelings for a man she could never have.

  The kitchen timer interrupted Gillian's thoughts. Walking into the kitchen, she removed the bread from the oven and finished preparing her spaghetti sauce. Gillian had asked Brigitte and the rest of the staff to retire early so she could have some time to herself. The staff had initially refused, but Gillian had insisted. As far as she knew, she was the only person on the first floor of the large chateau and she hated to admit it, but she felt even more alone. She was so tired of running away from Galen and his father. Just once, she would like to buy her own house, settle down, and maybe even start a family. Gillian couldn't understand it, but her time with John and Patrick had felt almost normal. For the first time in her life, she had felt wanted, even if it was just sexually. Gillian rolled her eyes at her own absurdity. Of course, she would feel a sense of normalcy with the king of the underworld. How screwed up was she?

  Just as she began to look for a plate, she stopped her own actions when she heard what sounded like the front door opening. Thinking that it was Brigitte checking on her, Gillian quickly made her way into the living room area and immediately froze when she saw John Kenric standing there. The breath caught in her throat and her heart began to pound in her chest as her eyes feasted on the Brit. He was dressed simply in a white t-shirt, jeans, and black boots. On his ebony hair, he wore a black skull cap and looked as though he had not shaved since she'd left the manor. Gillian felt her vaginal walls weeping and her clit throbbing painfully as his dark, molasses eyes roamed over her scantily clad body. Damn, if he didn't look even more delicious than she remembered!

  John was in the throes of his own emotional dilemma as lust and desire licked a burning path up his spine. Gillian was breathtaking, dressed in an off the shoulder, slouchy, white shirt and black, lacy boy shorts. Her long, straight hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had a pair of black rimmed glasses covering her emerald eyes. His kitten had no makeup on, and all he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside of her. Even now, he fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder and take her straight to a bed. Being near Gillian physically was like being shocked repeatedly by a strong, electrical current. John could tell she was feeling the sensations, too, by the lust turning her emerald eyes a light shade of blue. Maybe John could fuck her first and then apologize later, but somehow, he doubted it.

  "Hello, kitten," he said in a husky, smoker's voice as he slowly began to shorten the distance between them.

  When Gillian's eyes met John's, tears immediately formed in their green depths. Her body began to shake uncontrollably as she put out her hands, attempting to stop his actions. "Stop, John! Don't come any closer!" Gillian shouted as the large Brit continued toward her. The tears that formed in her eyes began to fall when his masculine, clean scent touched her nostrils. Backing away from him, she put the sofa in between them as she yelled, "Stop, damn it! I need you to leave!"

  John froze in place and felt a pain blaze across his chest as he watched the tears fall down her cheeks. The hurt he had caused her was evident in her lovely face. What if she didn't forgive him? The fear he felt had his own heart pounding, but his voice was calm as he softly said, "Kitten, I need to talk to you."

  "No!" Gillian yelled, shaking her head vigorously. "You hurt me, John! There is nothing that needs to be said! Get out before I call the police."

  "I just want to talk, sweetheart."

  "No!" the American yelled. "There is nothing for us to talk about. What you did to me…there is nothing you can say to make it better."

  John felt the wetness building in his own eyes as he watched the tears flow down her face. What the fuck had he done to her? How could he make this right? "I'm sorry, kitten," he blurted out in a soft, deep tone.

  Meeting his gaze as she wiped the tears from her own emerald eyes, Gillian asked, "What did you say?"

  "I said I'm sorry, kitten."

  "What exactly are you sorry for, John?"

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, the Brit's eyes never left hers as he said, "I'm sorry for the way I have treated you. I should have never given you the check. I was being a dick."

  Was John apologizing to her? There was no way in hell that he was going to get off that easy! "Why did you do that to me, John? I never would have treated you that way. You have no idea what it's like to be treated like a whore! People have treated me that way for most of my life!"

  John could not even begin to express the shame and guilt that he was feeling for the way he had treated Gillian. He hated to admit it, but he also was feeling a tremendous amount of fear. What if she didn't forgive him? He wanted to admit his feelings to her but was confused by what he was feeling. He hated feeling vulnerable, but at the same time, John knew he couldn't lie to her. With a heavy sigh, the Brit ran an agitated hand through his ebony hair. "I was trying to hurt you," John barked, his voice heavy with emotion.

  "Why?" Gillian asked brokenly. "Why would you want to hurt me?"

  "Because you fucking hurt me!" John yelled, taking a step toward her. "You left me! You didn't want me! What the fuck else was I supposed to do, kitten?"

  "Didn't want you? I left you because you slept with me and then found your way into Pandora's bed!"

  "Don't be daft, kitten!" John exclaimed angrily through clenched teeth. "I haven't
fucked Pandora, or any woman for that matter, since I brought you into my home!"

  Not believing him, Gillian said, "I saw you that morning, John! I asked you if you—"

  Not allowing her to finish, John cut her off, yelling, "You asked me if I had seen Pandora that morning, not if I had fucked her! I had seen the bitch that morning, but only long enough to tell her to get the fuck out of my house!"

  Gillian laughed derisively as she rolled her eyes at him. "Oh yeah, John? Why don't I believe you? You know it's funny. I have seen you on television with countless women! You are going to stand there and tell me that you have not had sex with any of them? You told me how much you like sex, John, so why would you abstain from it just because you met me?"

  "You're pissing me off, kitten!" John growled as his eyes darkened to black coals. "I know what the fuck I've said to you! Just because I am with a woman physically does not mean that I am fucking her! I'm a lot of things, Gillian, but I'm not a liar!"

  "Okay, John, then who is the beautiful Russian woman who is frequently by your side?" Gillian asked as her breath caught in her throat. She didn't think she could handle it if the woman was John's mistress. "The two of you are rather intimate with each other. She looks like she is more than just a friend."

  "Russian?" the Brit exclaimed. Who the fuck was she talking about? John had been intimate with several Russian women over the years, but none of them had ever been publicly seen with him. He kept his private life just that…private. Then, as if hit by lightning, John asked incredulously, "Tania! My bloody secretary! She's like a sister to me! The woman has been my personal assistant for over twenty years! There is absolutely nothing sexual between us!"

  "Secretary?" Gillian asked as her mind began to race. Didn't Bennet mention that he had a sister named Tania? Walking up to the large Brit, the beautiful American put her hands on her hips as her emerald eyes shot daggers at him. "Wait a minute, John! How the hell did you know that I was here?"