The Cane Series
Complete 4-Book Box Set
Shanora Williams
Contents
Wanting Mr. Cane Playlist
1. KANDY
2. CANE
3. KANDY
4. KANDY
5. KANDY
6. KANDY
7. KANDY
8. KANDY
9. KANDY
10. KANDY
11. CANE
12. KANDY
13. KANDY
14. KANDY
15. KANDY
16. KANDY
17. CANE
18. KANDY
19. KANDY
20. CANE
21. CANE
22. KANDY
23. KANDY
24. CANE
25. KANDY
26. KANDY
27. CANE
28. KANDY
29. KANDY
30. KANDY
31. KANDY
32. CANE
33. KANDY
34. KANDY
35. CANE
36. KANDY
37. CANE
38. KANDY
39. CANE
40. KANDY
41. KANDY
42. CANE
43. KANDY
44. KANDY
45. CANE
46. KANDY
47. KELLY
48. CANE
About Breaking Mr. Cane
PART I
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
PART II
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Loving Mr. Cane
I. SURRENDER
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
II. SURVIVING
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
III. WINNING
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
About Being Mrs. Cane
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Epilogue
Bonus Chapter Intro
Cane’s Bonus Chapter
Follow Shanora
What Else Can You Read?
All Books By Shanora
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2018 Shanora Williams
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Cane Series Box Set Design by Cover It Designs
Original Cover Designs by Hang Le
Editing By Librum Artis and Tamysn Bester of Brazen Ink
Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Wanting Mr. Cane Playlist
Water - Jack Garratt
Fetish - Selena Gomez ft. Gucci Mane
Now Or Never - Halsey
Naive - Laura Welsh
Love Lies - Khalid ft. Normani
The Ways - Khalid ft. Kendrick Lamar & Swae Lee
Terrified - Childish Gambino
Not Afraid Anymore - Halsey
Atomised - Laura Welsh
Perfect - Selena Gomez
Devil In Me - Halsey
Redbone - Childish Gambino
Unforgettable - French Montana ft. Jeremih
PCH - Jaden Smith
Give Me Love - Ed Sheeran
Don’t Forget About Me - Cloves
What Goes Around Comes Around - Justin Timberlake
1
KANDY
I remember the very first day I met Mr. Cane.
I was only nine years old, but I remember exactly what I saw and how I felt when I first laid eyes on him.
A shiny black car pulled into the driveway of our two-story home, parking less than a yard away from where I was. I sat on the tire swing of the big tree on the front lawn, wearing dingy-white chucks with rainbow laces, jean overalls, and knee-high pink socks. I was covered in grass stains after playing hide-and-seek with Frankie earlier that day.
I squinted my eyes and watched as the car door swung open and the sole of a shiny, black dress-shoe planted itself on the pavement. My eyes shifted over to the navy blue suit pants he wore, then up to the white button-down shirt that was rolled at the sleeves, revealing strong, inked forearms. And then I found his face. He stood tall, shoulders broad, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. His skin was a rich bronze, like it’d been kissed by the sun his entire life. He rolled his neck, and I swear I could hear the crack of it from where I sat.
I don't think he saw me right away, but I saw him. He was too busy looking at the house, probably impressed by it. I really liked that house, too.
The man shut the door behind him, and when he took a step to the side, I noticed a tattoo on the curve of his neck. RISE. I could see the word in bold script from the short distance a
way.
His jawline was sharp, the barest trace of stubble on his face. There was ink on his hands and all over his arms, some of it dark, some colorful. His dark brown hair was tapered on the sides and in the back, the lengthier part at the crown gelled back. If I were to guess, I would have assumed he was no older than thirty. Maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven?
He inhaled and then exhaled, taking off his sunglasses, and when he finally turned his head to the left, his eyes landed right on mine.
His face didn't change.
He almost seemed unbothered by my presence, or like he already knew who I was.
I didn't know him at all.
He walked toward the hood of his Chrysler still eyeing me, head in a slight tilt, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, plucked one out, and then stuck it between his lips. A lighter was in his other hand, and he lit the cigarette in a flash, taking a hard pull from it.
I frowned at him. "You know you probably shouldn't smoke," I said, pushing back, lifting my feet, and easing into a light swing. "It's bad for you."
He continued puffing, sitting on the hood of his car. "You should mind your own business."
I stopped swinging, planting my feet on the ground. "Are you supposed to be here? I don’t know who you are…"
"I’m a friend."
"I’ve never met you. How can you already be my friend?" I challenged.
He shrugged. “Don’t know, but what I do know is that you ask a lot of questions.”
Okay. This guy was being a real jerk. I stood up, narrowing my eyes at him. "My dad is a cop. I’ll tell him you’re out here.”
At that, he smirked and stood tall, looking at me beneath thick eyebrows. He waved his free hand at me. "Go on, then. Tell him."
My heart was pounding now. I'd never had an adult talk to me that way. I panicked, running for the house before he could do something crazy, like stop me, or trap me, kidnap me, or something. I didn't know who he was. For all I knew he could have been here to kill my entire family.
"Dad!" I screamed, bursting through the front door. The soles of my shoes pounded into the wooden floorboards as I ran down the hallway. "Dad!"
Dad popped his head around the corner of the kitchen, brows heavily stitched. "What, Kandy? What is it?" he asked, concern etching his face.
I clung to him, throwing my arms around his waist.
"Kandy, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Mom asked from the fridge, rushing my way as soon as she shut it.
"There's a-a man standing out there. He's smoking a-and he told me to mind my own business!"
"What?" Dad immediately pulled away, handing me over to Mom, who cupped my face and then reeled me against her.
The doorbell rang, and Dad looked at her, worry creasing at his forehead. "Stay in here," he told us both, and I was really scared then.
My instincts were right. He was a bad guy. Good thing I ran.
Mom pulled me even closer as Dad stepped around the corner to get to the living room. I heard things rustling around and then he came back out with his service pistol, tucking it in the waistband in the back of his pants.
"Oh, no," I whispered. Daddy was going to hurt that man. He didn't like anyone messing with me. He'd always threatened that if someone ever hurt me, physically or mentally, he would make the person pay for it.
Dad had his hand wrapped around the gun the entire time, even as he looked through the peephole. But when he peered out, a soft chuckle escaped him, and he immediately lowered his guard.
Wait. What?
"Jesus, Kandy." Dad looked back at me, letting out a heavy sigh.
"Who is it?" Mom asked, still worried.
Dad reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. And there he stood, the strange, tan man with the tattoos and cigarette.
"Cane!" Dad let out a hard, coarse laugh. "What the hell, man? I almost pulled my gun on you, thinking you were some stranger messing with my daughter!"
Cane?
The stranger, Cane, laughed. "Did I scare her, really?" He stepped into the house, and I held Mom tighter. "I was only kidding, Kandy. I know who you are. I know all about you. We’ve actually met before, but you probably don’t remember."
“Yep, she was about six, right?” Dad said, smiling. “It was brief though. Dropped something off for him after picking you up from school. You waved at him and everything when he said hey.”
“I don’t remember,” I mumbled. My eyebrows were pinched. I was still mad at him.
Cane held up a bottle of wine in his hand, looking at Dad. "I brought you guys something to go along with dinner."
“Oh, Cane, that was sweet, but you didn't have to," Mom said, pulling away and walking over to grab it. She smiled at him, and he returned it.
No, Mom! What are you doing? Stay away from him!
"Please. It's not like me to show up for an occasion empty-handed. It was the least I could do. That's our number one selling label, too. You'll love it. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Derek has told me all about your love for wine."
Mom blushed. Seriously, she blushed. Why was everyone falling for his charm but me?
Cane dropped his gaze to me again. "I even brought something for you, little one."
"I don't want it," I muttered back, crossing my arms.
"Kandy—" Mom started to scold me, but Cane shook his head, smiling softly.
"It's okay. I scared her. She just has to warm up to my twisted sense of humor."
He walked my way with slow, measured steps, and when he was about an inch away, he knelt down on one knee, digging into his pocket and pulling out a red bag with a sticker that said Tempt. There were tattoos on his hands as well, the same word RISE on his knuckles.
"Can you guess what it is?" he asked softly.
I blinked down at the bag. I was more curious than angry at that moment. "No. What?"
"Chocolate." He handed me the bag. I gladly took it, but still stared down at it like it was puke in my palm. "Your father told me you love chocolate. There's lots more where that came from, Bits."
"Bits?" I questioned, nose scrunching as I met his eyes. I noticed they were a mixed shade. Gray and green. Pretty. They reminded me of the marbles I collected with the colors inside, clear all around with the color in the middle.
"Your name is Kandy, but all I'm getting is bitterness. Bits for bitterness," he said.
Dad laughed behind him, and I felt my face turn hot.
"What do you say, Kandy?" Mom asked, tucking loose strands of blonde hair behind her ears.
"I don't know his name, Mom," I groaned.
"Mr. Cane," she replied.
I sighed, trying hard not to roll my eyes. Yes, I was glad about the chocolate, but I was still upset with him. "Thank you, Mr. Cane," I mumbled.
Mr. Cane stood up straight, and Mom and Dad walked around him, Mom announcing, "The steak is still grilling but should be done soon! I'll put the wine in the fridge to get cool!"
"Get settled in and meet me out back for a few beers," Dad said to him, pointing toward the deck.
"All right." Mr. Cane walked past me, tossing a wink my way. "Don't worry. You'll warm up to me soon enough. Enjoy those chocolates, Bits."
I smashed my lips together, my face burning hot again.
My heart fluttered in my chest.
My palms were sweaty.
I was afraid for my life out there, the stranger-danger bell chiming in my head, but not anymore. No, now it was just a weird, bubbly sensation running through me. One I couldn't fully describe or comprehend.
I'd never known what having a crush felt like before that day. I didn't understand the tingle in my chest, or the tumbling in my belly. I couldn't understand why I was constantly struggling for words, or why my face suddenly felt so hot. I didn't know what the hell I was feeling, and that freaked me out.
But there was one thing I knew for certain: this man was no good. I knew he was bad. He didn't make good firs
t impressions—well, not with children anyway.
He was overly confident, and he was a smoker, which Mom always told me was a bad habit. He was a jerk—no, if I was being honest, he was a straight-up asshole. I knew he probably cared more about himself than anyone else—he just gave me that sort of impression.