Page 16 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

Exceptions

MADDIE

I didn’t just read through the questionnaire.

I mean, I did. A lot. So many times, in fact, that I had it memorized.

But I’d also answered the questions. Out of curiosity. For the sake of exploration.

In the name of science.

I’d had no intention of doing anything with it.

And that’d lasted all of four hours before I’d impulsively submitted my responses.

Then I’d spent the rest of the week on the edge.

On the edge of an anxiety attack.

Of an adrenaline overdose.

Of distraction.

Of spontaneous combustion.

According to the time I’d already checked a million times that hour alone, I had three hours to go home, get ready, and then get to Gilded.

If I was going.

The logical, doubtful side of my brain said no way. That I should chicken out, order delivery, and hide in the comfort of my apartment.

But those dark desires dancing in the back of my head said otherwise.

Being at Gilded was the closest I’d ever come to understanding them. I wanted to explore. Not dip my toes in. Not sit at a high top and observe as an outsider.

I wanted to embrace whatever it was by diving in fully.

Probably.

Maybe.

But also, maybe not.

What am I even doing considering this?

“Hey, Mads, wait up.”

And the never-ending day keeps getting better.

As tempted as I was to continue walking like I hadn’t heard my editor-in-chief, I knew better.

He was a spiteful jerk. Beyond that, there was a chance he had a new assignment for me.

One that would take all my time and attention, thereby preventing me from making a stupid mistake by going to Gilded.

Or maybe he just had some notes on my submitted story.

Whatever the case, I slowed to a stop.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Joel said with a grin I didn’t trust. “I got an email earlier to let me know they’re going to feature your article on Wells in the alumni email and use a snippet of it in the mailer going out to prospective students. Covering both ends of the spectrum.”

Pride warmed my chest, and the terror over my future reduced—only by half a notch or so out of a million, but still—as I thought about how that would look in my portfolio. “Are you for real?”

“Dean Anderson himself ordered it. There’s a reason the hotshot lawyer has the reputation he does. I read an article where Tripp Carter said that Wells had the jury ready to send his stalker to Alcatraz after opening arguments alone. It’s no surprise he phrased his answers perfectly.”

I didn’t share that a lot of those spins came from me and not Easton. “I’m glad everyone is happy.”

Now give me better assignments.

“And I’m glad you were able to get him to finally agree to an interview,” he said.

I started to nod before his words sank in. “Wait, what?”

“It was Dean Anderson’s idea to do the alumni profile. He said they’ve been trying to get Wells to agree to an interview for years, but he always politely declined and sent a financial contribution instead.” He shrugged. “Guess it pays to be a family friend.”

But we weren’t family friends. We barely even knew each other. He wasn’t even using my connection to the Moores to network like I’d initially thought.

So, why had he agreed to let me interview him when he’d turned others down?

Joel kept talking for a couple minutes, though I couldn’t seem to absorb a single word he said. When we parted ways, I pulled my phone out and hovered a finger over Easton’s number.

What’s my plan exactly? Bother him during a workday to ask why he did me a favor? And then what?

My gaze moved to the time, and I put my phone away.

I had somewhere to be.

Maybe…

Easton

Christ, is it only Friday?

It’d been a long, shitty week, and the weekend wouldn’t be much better. I thought that even before I opened the calendar on my computer to see Saturday evening boxed off for an event.

Shit, I forgot about that. Maybe I can send June in my place.

But I knew she wouldn’t go for it.

I pushed my chair away from my desk and dragged a palm down my face.

Getting the order of protection for Atlas’ rescue had taken longer since there was a minor child involved, no criminal charges, and the ex was the worst kind of prick—one with resources.

It was worth the effort, but it’d still set me behind.

Losing an entire night wouldn’t help.

Mentally reviewing dinner delivery options, I was about to take a walk through the office to see who was still around to feed when my cell vibrated twice on my desk.

Cohen: Thought you’d like to know…

Cohen: Picture

I loaded the picture before exiting out.

The Gilded auction was one of the more popular events they offered. And according to the brothers, it grew every year.

Cohen always said it with pride.

Atlas sounded more resigned about the fact.

I wasn’t sure why he’d sent the picture of the opened event booklet. I’d never attended the auction. When I had time and desire for a submissive in my life, the idea of buying one—even for the minimal and mostly symbolic amount—did nothing for me.

I preferred obedience freely offered.

Like by a pretty girl with big blue eyes who unconsciously submitted.

Since ignoring the message from my friend-slash-client would be a dick thing to do, I distractedly responded.

Me: Good luck tonight.

I was loading a Thai menu when his response came.

Cohen: You ass. You didn’t even look.

Me: Yes, I did. Seems like a lot of interest this year.

Cohen: Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you…

What the hell does that mean?

Since he was right that I hadn’t looked, I opened the attachment again. And then I grabbed my glasses because I was an ancient fucker who’d begun complaining about small font sizes and music being better in my day.

I stood by both.

Even with them, I had to zoom in to skim the list. There were some high-profile names, but that didn’t warrant his efforts.

The whole place catered to the elite. I was about to respond to tell him to get to the point when my gaze shot to the bottom of the list, the name nearly hidden underneath a pen.

My gut clenched.

My heart slammed.

And my dick hardened.

Maddie B.

What are the chances that’s a coincidence?

But I knew.

Me: You’re fucking with me.

Cohen: Like I said, just thought you’d like to know. Do with the information what you will.

Me: Take her name out and send her home.

Cohen: She made the choice. She’s an adult.

Me: Barely.

Cohen: Ah. Is that your hang-up?

Yes. I didn’t want to be another Hollywood putz who pathetically chased women half his age. Maddie wasn’t that young, but I was cutting it close.

I didn’t tell him that.

Me: She’s also not a member.

Cohen: I made an exception.

Me: You never make exceptions.

Cohen: I made an exception to never making exceptions. She’ll be good for business.

Not if I torch the place to the ground if someone so much as touches her.

I had no claim on the pretty college student who’d been haunting my fantasies and fueling my self-given orgasms. I wanted her. Fuck, did I want her. But she was too young for me. Too sweet. Too good.

She’d blushed and been flustered by the barely PG-13 things happening at the bar, and because I was a sick bastard, I’d wanted to drag her into the back rooms. I’d wanted to watch that flush spread across her perky tits when she saw the tools that lined the walls.

I’d needed to know if her fuckable lips would part when she heard the pleasured moans and pained screams echo through the space.

I’d wanted to be the one to show her everything .

It had taken every ounce of my control to walk her from the building instead.

I’d spent the week fighting the urge to call her—or manipulate another run-in at Coastal—by telling myself that she was off-limits.

And she’d spent the week planning to put herself up for auction?

It’s her choice. She can do what she wants.

I just hope she knows what the hell she’s getting herself into.

Tossing my phone down, I clicked the mouse to open my next email.

And then I snatched my phone back.

What the hell am I talking about? Of course she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. That’s the damn problem!

Me: Did she fill out a form?

Cohen: Picture

I skimmed the picture of her form. It didn’t take long since there wasn’t much there.

Fuck no.