Page 14 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

For the Vibes

MADDIE

I wasn’t sure what I was more thrown by.

That Easton hadn’t freaked out when he caught me following him.

That he’d touched me—multiple times.

Or that I was there. In a bar that obviously was more than simply a bar.

I watched Easton walk away until he disappeared down a darkened hallway. Only once he was out of view did I scan my surroundings.

Like Golden, the color scheme and refined atmosphere extended into that space, too. But that was pretty much where the similarities ended.

Unless I’d missed the decorative gold-plated whips, chains, and handcuffs out front.

At least I’d thought they were just for adornment. But when my fidgeting hand brushed against the underside of the table, there was a set of attached cuffs that seemed pretty damn functional.

“What is this place?” I whispered as I watched a throuple in latex share a kiss. Farther down the bar, a man fed his blindfolded companion fruit while he chatted with someone else. The companion couldn’t do it himself since shiny fabric was wrapped around his wrists.

Other than Niko Stavros, I recognized a woman twisting a crop in her hold from a sitcom that played on repeat and an older man at the bar from cable news appearances.

“A club,” Cohen answered, pulling me from my inspection.

I looked at the man sitting opposite me. “And I’m guessing you don’t mean a club for golf or pickleball.”

His hazel eyes twinkled as he flashed a wicked smile. “Usually, the paddles here are utilized in other ways.”

“Do you work here?”

“Own it. Me and my brother.”

Appearances must’ve been deceiving because Cohen looked almost as out of place there as I must’ve.

He wasn’t clad in leather or a costume. He wore torn black jeans and a plain Henley with the long sleeves pushed up his forearms. His black hair was buzzed short, and stubble coated his jaw.

I would guess he was around thirty years old, but his easy dimpled smile had a boyish charm.

The hint of a southern accent added to it.

“But you look so wholesome,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

He arched a dark brow. “Who says kink isn’t wholesome?”

I had no answer since I didn’t know much about kinks.

“Easton mentioned you were interviewing him.” Thankfully, he didn’t question how that interview turned into me showing up there. “Are you doing a story on how he’s so damn boring?”

I laughed. “It’s an alumni profile.”

“That’s a yes then. Are you a journalism major?”

I nodded before a thought hit me. “I obviously won’t be including any of this in the article.”

“Even if you wanted to, you can’t.” At my lowered brows, he gestured toward the entrance. “You signed an NDA.”

Well, that was idiotic of me.

When the beautiful blonde had turned the iPad toward me, she hadn’t offered me an explanation of any of the digital forms I’d signed, and I hadn’t asked. I’d been so distracted by everything happening and eager for answers, I would’ve signed away my Jeep without a second thought.

Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t have mentioned the club even without the NDA. But it was dumb of me not to at least skim the forms.

“And it’s airtight,” he continued, his voice casual even if the pointed look on his face was anything but. “My lawyer is a shark.”

“Easton?” I surmised.

He tapped his nose. “Bingo.”

My interest in the club had nothing to do with a potential story and everything to do with me. With the way it made me feel. With the thoughts I had.

The desires that I pushed to the back of my head.

I didn’t share that, of course.

Especially since I seemed to have the wrong idea about what a kink club entailed. Despite what he’d said about paddles, there was nothing overtly obscene around us.

“Is this just, like, a bar with a fetish twist?” I asked.

“Out here, yes. This is a… neutral zone. Everyone is free to be who they are, but without taking things to a level that the other members didn’t consent to witnessing. If there is more they want to delve into, there are a variety of back rooms they can use.”

My gaze drifted back to the hallway as I wondered what Easton’s meeting truly entailed. Acidity churned in my stomach.

“Hey.”

At Cohen’s firm prompt, I gave him my focus.

“He’s with my brother. Official lawyer shit.”

My cheeks flushed that my irrational jealousy had been so easily spotted. I averted my eyes, and they landed on the folded menus on the table. Well, one was a drink menu. On closer inspection, I saw the other was a calendar of upcoming events. Classes. Kink specific gatherings. Drink tastings.

I pushed it aside to see another paper. Printed on heavy cardstock, it looked like an elegant invitation. Only it wasn’t to a wedding or garden party.

It was for an auction.

“W-what’s…” My question came out as a stammered breath, and I cleared my throat before trying again. “What’s this?”

“Our yearly auction is next weekend.”

I knew he wasn’t talking about one for used restaurant supplies or antiques.

“For a date?” It was all I could muster, thinking of the bachelor auctions I’d seen on TV shows and movies.

At his stretching silence, I looked up to see Cohen watching me intently. “For whatever they want. Expectations are different for everyone, but participation is completely voluntary.”

“Why?” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking.

He lifted a shoulder but kept his eyes locked on me. “Because some people like the idea of feeling like they belong to someone else.”

His words were said so nonchalantly, like he hadn’t reached into my head and plucked them from the deepest recesses of my desires.

He moved on, asking me more about my life and fielding—and occasionally evading—my questions about Golden and Gilded. But as we spoke, my gaze continued to drift to the paper advertising the auction.

“There’s Easton,” Cohen said after a little while.

For whatever reason, I scrambled to restack the menu and calendar on top of the paper like doing so would somehow smother the thoughts going through my head.

As if Easton could somehow read said thoughts.

The intense way his dark eyes pinned me to my chair almost made it seem like he could.

For a wild moment, I wondered if he would give me a tour. If he would want to stay. If he would invite me to stay with him.

Cohen inadvertently echoed my thoughts. “You sticking around for a drink?”

Easton kept his gaze on me as he shook his head, and disappointed rejection sank in my belly. “Ready, Maddie?”

I wasn’t.

Not in the least.

But Easton clearly didn’t want to be there. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be there with me. Whatever the reason, I’d overstepped enough, so I nodded and slid off the stool.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Maddie,” Cohen said as he stood, too. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

Easton bit out something I didn’t catch as the other man chuckled.

I was equal parts relieved and disappointed when he didn’t use his hand on my lower back to nudge me toward the exit. My skin already felt too tight.

Too hot.

Too oversensitive.

His touch was likely enough to make me do something stupid.

Like beg to stay just a little longer.

Desperate for cool air and space, I said my goodbye to Cohen before following Easton. Once we were in the lobby, he continued on to the other door—not the one that led to Golden. Another spiral staircase up, and we exited to a large parking lot and not the front sidewalk.

When I glanced behind us, I saw that the door was gone.

Not literally. It wasn’t magic. But the seamless design of it made it blend into the building.

If not for the passcode panel that was obstructed by some shrubs, I could walk by without knowing there was an entrance there. I was completely disoriented.

And not just physically.

Thankfully, he seemed to know where to go without getting turned around like I would’ve.

The awkward silence stretched until I couldn’t stop myself from breaking it. “Cohen said you’re his lawyer.”

“I am.”

I gave a forced laugh. “For a second, I thought you were a member.”

His long strides slowed, and in the bright overhead lights of the lot, I could see him watching me intently. It reminded me of the way he’d studied me while he told him his age. “I am.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

“Yeah. Oh.” A heavy silence—one I used to dream up all the kinks and orgies he might be into—settled between us before he added, “Though I’m usually here on business.”

“And when you’re not?” I had no right to ask, and I honestly wasn’t sure what I expected. Certainly not an answer.

“Then I prefer the bar.” At my questioning look, he expanded, “I enjoy the atmosphere of the club more than the specificities.”

“You go to a sex club for the vibes?”

“Yes.”

From anyone else, that answer would’ve screamed of bullshit. But I was pretty sure he was telling the truth.

That didn’t stop me from asking, “Do you also read Playboy for the articles?”

He chuckled at my skeptical tone but didn’t offer any further clarification or justification that would’ve undercut any lies.

I waited as long as I could hold off before my impulsivity took control of my mouth. “About me, uh, showing up here…”

He cut in, which was good since I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. “You thought there was a story. I’m assuming you know you signed an NDA?” At my nod, he continued. “Then you know there is no story. Not for the paper or your friends.”

Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. I sucked at keeping secrets from them, but it was probably for the best. I couldn’t even begin to explain what I’d seen. Not without also inadvertently divulging what I’d felt.

“Got it,” I said.

When we reached my Jeep, I unlocked and opened my door. Before I could climb in, Easton closed some of the distance between us, stopping just before his body was touching mine while he loomed over me. “What you did was stupid and risky.”

“I know.”

He held the eye contact as he raised his hand to run his thumb along his jaw. I had to lock my knees to stop myself from leaning into him when he stepped away.

Rather than make a bigger fool of myself, I climbed into my Jeep and buckled up.

“Actually leave this time, Madeline.”

“I will,” I whispered.

“Good girl.”

Not giving me the chance to respond, he slammed the door so I could pull out. Only once I was on the street did I risk a look in my rearview mirror to see him heading toward Wells Law.

I wasn’t sure how I saw the night going.

But I know it wasn’t like that.