Page 20 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

It clearly wasn’t a rented tux that’d seen a hundred proms and weddings. The cut perfectly accentuated his tall frame, broad shoulders, and fit body. Rather than a black bow tie, he wore a burgundy one that matched perfectly with my dress.

A dress I was about to lose.

I caught the draping fabric seconds before I gave Easton a free show.

Or a not free show, in our case.

“Good, you’re here.” I looked over my shoulder at the man. “Enjoy your ramen.”

“I… Uh… Thanks?” With one last bewildered expression, he retreated into Cassie’s apartment.

I kept a tight grip on my chest as I moved to Easton. “What’re you doing here?”

“Picking you up.”

“I mean here . On my floor. How did you even know which floor was mine?”

“We’ve been over this. I’m thorough.” He pushed my ajar door the rest of the way open and walked inside.

Into my apartment.

My very cute, but also slightly messy apartment that looked like it was occupied by a very cute, but also slightly messy college student.

I wasn’t a complete maximalist—that was Wren—but I liked stuff. Splashes of color. Decorative pictures. Fun touches.

It wasn’t the apartment of a sophisticated woman.

“Was I interrupting something?”

I thought Easton’s question was because of the clutter in my kitchenette, but his dark eyes were aimed out the open doorway.

“Yes.” I gave him my back as I shook the thin straps at my shoulders. “My desperate need for help tying this torture device.”

He nudged my hands aside and made quick work of fastening the dress into place so it felt secure but not uncomfortable. Once he was done, his index fingers hooked into the straps to untwist them at my shoulders before slowly trailing downward. “You look beautiful.”

My voice came out a breathless whisper. “It’s a beautiful torture device.”

“It’s not the dress.” He continued his path to adjust the straps. “Don’t let another man touch you like that again, Madeline.”

A tremor went down my spine, and I knew he must’ve felt it. I also didn’t care. “I was just asking for help. I think he’s dating my neighbor.”

“That might be, but you didn’t see the look on his face that I saw. The one that said he’d much rather be taking you out of this dress, not tying you into it.”

Is that how you’re looking at me?

But when I twisted in his hold, he dropped his hands and gave me nothing but his usual blank expression. His bored eyes dropped to my neck. “You’re wearing it.”

“The dress calls for accessories, and I didn’t have any that matched the shoes. I’m more of a white gold girl.”

“Noted.”

“No. No, no, no. Not noted. This?” I gestured down to myself. “A one-time thing. I can shop for myself.”

“Now that you have my card, sure.”

“I don’t need your card.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Why?”

“First of all, if I transferred fifty-k into your account, the IRS would have a fucking field day. This way you get your payment without the headache.”

That made logical sense, even if him giving me that kind of access was batshit crazy. It did, however, make it easier to return the money he’d bid on me since I just wouldn’t spend it.

Easy.

“Beyond that,” he continued, “none of these purchases come out of your personal money.”

“Then don’t send me stuff again.”

Something changed in his body language from one blink to the next. He seemed taller than his already tall. More imposing. More… dangerous.

I should’ve been struck with panic that I was alone in my apartment with a man I didn’t know all that well. One who was capable of radiating that kind of edge.

Instead, I had to lock my knees to stop from leaning in closer to feel the sharpness.

“That’s not how this works between us,” he said. “If you’re accompanying me to this bullshit, I cover the costs.”

I was beginning to get mental whiplash where Easton Wells was concerned. To be fair, it was my own fault. I read too much into his words and then was disappointed when his next ones reminded me that this was a business arrangement.

For clarity’s sake, I asked the question that’d formed the night before when he’d suggested the agreement. “Like a sugar Da?—”

“Don’t call me that,” he cut in before grudgingly lifting his chin. “But yes.”

It wasn’t what I’d been looking for at Gilded, but it was still the chance to dip my toes into the wading pool. And that was better than nothing.

I just needed to remember that was all it was.

After grabbing my clutch, I turned and nearly stumbled when my gaze landed on the large mirror that was propped against the wall near my door.

With the intricacy of the dress—and the lack of time—I’d opted to keep it simple with loose waves in my dark hair. My makeup was equally minimal. The look was chic and paired perfectly with Easton’s classic tux. With both of us in the reflection, I couldn’t deny we made a striking couple.

No.

A striking not-couple.

I tore my focus away, and we headed down to the lobby. Curious eyes tracked our movements, but he didn’t seem concerned. He didn’t even seem to notice the buzz we’d created.

I’m going to catch an earful from Greer and Wren.

When we got outside, an older man was waiting near a shiny town car.

I offered him a smile, but he wasn’t even looking at us.

Not in a rude way. More of a professionally detached thing.

He opened the door, and I offered a thank you anyway as I slid in.

Easton rounded it to climb into the other side.

“What is the event for?” I asked Easton when the driver pulled away from the curb.

“Justice Unrestrained. They’re a nonprofit who focuses on community advocacy.”

“Is there anything I need to know?”

“The food will be good, but the rest is going to feel unending.”

“So, if I planned a fake emergency to get out of it early, I should wait until after I’ve eaten. Got it.”

His mouth curved. “You already have an exit strategy?”

Pulling my phone from my bag, I feigned horror as I glanced at it. “Oh, I wish I could answer that question, but my aunt’s cousin’s uncle’s former roommate’s hamster has passed away.”

“A tragedy.”

“Good. You understand why I have to leave early.”

He shook his head before asking, “How was your day?”

I had no clue why, but the polite question threw me more than it should’ve.

“Boring. I worked on assignments.”

Sitting close to him, it was impossible to miss the way his body tensed.

Feeling awkward when the silence stretched, I fidgeted with the gold clasp on the clutch. “What about you?”

“Court prep.”

“Wow, so we had basically the same day, huh?”

His body loosened as he chuckled. “Basically.”

I spent the rest of the drive peppering him with questions that he mostly evaded while he asked me ones that I answered in far more detail than he probably cared about.

“Give me a hint,” I demanded. “Is your client a businessperson, actor, musician, influencer?—”

“Christ, I hate that word.”

“Same. Does that mean that’s the answer?”

“No, it means it’s a stupid-as-shit word for usually stupid-as-shit people.”

“Is this a bad time to mention my very popular social media presence?”

“You don’t even post yourself on Instagram.”

I reared back so far, I would’ve hit my head on the window if the car wasn’t so spacious.

“How do you know that?” I stupidly asked.

“Thorough.”

“Right.” I glanced at my lap then back to him. “Wait, do you have an Instagram?”

His slow blink was answer enough.

“Right,” I repeated. Unsure what to do with the knowledge he’d cyber researched me, I moved on. “Okay, but you still didn’t answer my question about your client.”

“I can tell you one thing.”

“Yes?”

“We’re here,” he said just as the car slowed to a stop.

“I need to stop falling for that.”

His quiet chuckle grew louder at my disgruntled muttering.