Page 10 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

Thorough

MADDIE

I hadn’t meant to come at him in an antagonistic way. It was a fluff piece, not an investigative exposé. But I was dying to dig into the mystery of Easton Wells, and that zealousness came out in my nosy question.

If I didn’t back off, he could cut the interview, and I would have to return to Joel with my tail between my legs. That wasn’t something I was eager to do— period —but especially not with a softball assignment.

“Mr. Wells,” I started, though I hadn’t landed on whether to apologize for overstepping or move on with a bland question from my list.

It didn’t matter. His eyes narrowed, and a muscle at his jaw ticked, taking away my ability to form any words.

My mouth opened and closed like one of the guppies in the lobby.

I was saved from floundering when June waltzed into the room, carrying a paper bag. “Please, for my sake, call him Easton.”

I returned my focus to the man opposite me just in time to watch his expression smooth out. He held eye contact with me for a few long moments before eventually lifting his chin. “Easton is fine.”

Why do I get the feeling it very much so is not ?

“If he and his overinflated ego get used to being referred to as Mr. Wells, he might make it mandatory. And I’m too young to retire, but I would if that was the case.”

“Yes. God forbid you show any respect for the man who signs your paycheck,” he said in that deadpan way that made me want to smile. I bit it back since I wasn’t sure if he was actually joking, and I didn’t want to make things awkward.

I’d already done that enough.

June must’ve known it was bluster because she rolled her eyes at him as she set the bag on the table and began unpacking it. “Technically, I sign my own check since I sign off on the direct deposit payroll.”

“And that money comes from…?”

“The best boss in the world, Mr. Wells,” she said with a saccharine smile.

He gave her a blank stare. “If you’re done.”

“For now.” She gave me her attention. “Let me know if you need more cream or sweetener.”

As she walked from the room, I finally looked down at what she’d set in front of me. A molasses cookie peeked out from the little white bag with the emblem of Coastal’s café on it. The plastic cup next to it was only half iced beverage. The other half was fluffy whipped cream.

When I simply eyed the drink, he asked, “Was my intel wrong?”

I pushed the straw in and took a sip, the familiar taste of espresso, sweet cream, and toasted marshmallow coating my tongue. I smiled despite my nervously flipping stomach. “It’s perfect, thank you. I didn’t realize the café delivered.”

That would’ve saved me so much precious time during exhausting cram sessions.

“They don’t,” Easton said.

“You sent someone out for this?”

He lifted his chin like that wasn’t a crazy thing to do.

I didn’t bother to ask how he knew my exact order. I got the same thing every single day, and the baristas usually started making it before I entered the building.

The shock was from the considerate gesture itself. I had no clue why he’d done it.

“Does this level of research help you land those prominent clients?” I asked, using the question as a segue back to the interview.

“I am thorough in everything I do.” He lifted his own cup but paused with it partway to his mouth. “Much like you, it seems. How did you know about Mayor Daniels?”

“Stab in the dark,” I answered honestly. When he raised an expectant brow, I expanded, “You were photographed at a charity dinner together. Shortly after, he was photographed leaving a restaurant with Charles Wesley of Wesley and Ellis.”

“And you reached your conclusion from those two images?” His skepticism was clear in his voice and expression. “As I recall, your friend’s father was at that charity dinner.”

That wasn’t a surprise. Doug and Eve had mastered networking for the practice, and that kind of event was the perfect place to find new patients with money to blow while contributing to a worthy cause that painted Exquisite Aesthetics in a positive light.

“If he was, I had no clue,” I said.

Easton sat back and put his elbows on the arms of the chair before steepling his fingers. He studied me for a long moment. “You’re telling the truth.”

“I usually am.”

“Then how did you know?”

“In the picture with you, the mayor was leaning toward you as he spoke. Like he was trying to convince you of something. Like accepting a job offer. Since he followed that up with a meeting with a different attorney, it was a safe bet you turned him down, and he was continuing his search.”

“Impressive.” And the look on his face said he meant it.

“Am I correct?”

“You know you are.”

A flutter of pride and warmth spread through my chest at the way he said it.

He wasn’t done, though.

Skewering me with a look, the challenge was clear. “But now for the bonus question… Did he hire Wesley?”

I shook my head. “Unlike with you, the mayor was keeping his distance as they left the restaurant. He looked annoyed.”

“That’s because Daniels is smart. He knew Wesley called in the tip to get media coverage of the meeting.”

“Isn’t that counterintuitive in a profession that’s pretty big on confidentiality?”

“Losing one potential client is a small price to pay when the photo will bring in countless others who now see you as eminent and in demand.”

“Is that why you turned down his offer?”

He gave me the same blank stare he’d given June. “No. I turned it down because politics are both a headache and dull as fuck.”

I had no clue why, but hearing Easton say fuck—even in the innocuous context—sent a zip of lust straight to my core.

Needing to cool my rapidly heating body and thoughts, I took a drink before twisting the cup in my hand. I hoped it conveyed the nonchalance of a casual conversation enough for him to temporarily forget I was a journalist.

Well, a journalism major, but still.

“Is there a reason Mayor Daniels was pursuing a new legal team?” I asked, even knowing it was highly unlikely he would tell me.

To my surprise, I got more than just the slow blink I anticipated. Easton lowered his voice to share, “A death.”

My eyes widened at both his answer and the fact he’d even given one.

Possibilities raced through my head, everything from an accidental death to a dead escort in the Chateau Marmont—the infamous hotel of old school Hollywood scandals.

I hadn’t heard about any suspicious deaths, but enough influence and money could keep anything quiet.

At least temporarily.

“Really?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

“Yes. His previous lawyer died.” I didn’t have the chance to get ahead of myself when he clarified, “Natural causes.”

That’s anticlimactic.

Sad, too, of course.

But anticlimactic.

Since there was no scandalous story to be had, I got back to the one I’d been assigned. “What made you go into law?”

“Mr. Teagen, my high school principal. I grew up in a shit neighborhood. My parents did the best they could.” He tapped the side of his slightly crooked nose.

“But I was a pain in the ass who had a bad habit of trying to fight my way through life before arguing my way out of consequences. Mr. Teagen suggested I put that persuasiveness to better use, and I never looked back.”

“Your parents must be proud.”

“They both passed while I was in college.”

The fact that I’d inadvertently implied he was a nepo baby earlier was mortifying. I swallowed my embarrassment down. “I’m sorry.”

He waved off the apology. “Mom went first from breast cancer, and Dad passed a few months after. He never recovered from losing her. But they were both proud, albeit shocked, that I got into college in the first place.” I wanted to ask more about his childhood, but before I could, he turned the tables on me. “What made you go into journalism?”

I hesitated.

“You don’t have to answer. You can plead the fifth.”

“I’m just not used to my interviewees becoming interviewers.”

“I told you, I’m thorough. I like to know my opposition.”

“Are we opponents?”

“You tell me, Madeline .”

“Hey. I said you could call me Maddie.” I lowered my voice to mutter, “Even if you are a tyrant.”

At his smile, another surge of warmth went through me.

I was tempted to give him the usual answer I gave people when they asked. The one that made me sound intelligent, informed, and tenacious. But since he’d been forthcoming with me, I returned the favor. “I’m nosy.”

That didn’t just get a smile. It got a chuckle. A really, really good one. “Fair enough.”

The humor died instantly when I proved my nosiness by blurting, “How old are you?”

Blank expression in place, he leaned back in his chair, but his gaze was sharp as he met mine. “Thirty-seven.”

That was around where I’d initially placed him, though his accomplishments had made me wonder if he was actually older.

Picking up his nonverbal cues, I moved on. “Why did you choose Coastal?”

“They offered a full scholarship.” He paused. “Feel free to change that answer to something more ass-kissy.”

It was my turn to laugh. “On it.”

“Why did you choose Coastal?” he asked, turning it on me again.

“They have the best journalism department in the state.”

“And that’s what you want to do after graduation?”

Gallons of water filled my lungs as heaviness pressed down on my chest, threatening to drown me in an ocean of panic and uncertainty.

I pushed it away and gave a forced laugh. “I’m not ready to deal with all that. Maybe I’ll keep going to college indefinitely. I could get my medical degree next.”

“Or law. You’ve got cross-examination down.”

“Only if everyone is cool with the fact I always start crying when I argue.”

“Juries might be a bit thrown.”

“That’s what I figured.” Realizing I was smiling, I did my best to smother the unconscious response and at least pretend to be a professional. “One thing I couldn’t work out is what specialty of law you practice.”

After finding a few mentions of him by a popular actor, I’d thought maybe entertainment law, but that wouldn’t explain why Doug wanted to hire him.