Page 37 of Sugar

That explains the passcode and the decor.

I’d been lying to the guy upstairs, but I should totally have Greer and Wren meet me here. Then I won’t need whatever feeble excuse I scramble for if Easton…

Shit.

Easton.

I’d been so distracted with the prospect of being murdered and my fascination with the secret bar that I’d completely forgottenwhat’d brought me there to begin with. I paused to scan the high tops, packed booths, and dotted armchairs.

Everywhere I looked, I saw the same thing.

Glamorous people dressed in glamorous clothes in a glamorous atmosphere. But none of them were the attorney I was ineptly stalking.

I kept a closer eye out as I continued moving to the corner of the bar where I would have a better view. There was still no sign of him, which was probably for the best. It was unlikely he was there meeting a client. Certainly not one that would lead to a groundbreaking story that showcased my investigative skills and set me up with job stability for life.

It was far more likely that it was something personal.

Like a date.

That alone should’ve made me hightail it out of there. I had no desire to see a leggy brunette pressed to him—that time in person rather than in a photo. But I must’ve been a glutton for punishment because I stayed right where I was, searching him out.

“What can I get you?” someone asked after a minute.

I looked over to see a handsome bartender set a cocktail napkin on the gleaming wood in front of me. Like the rest of the place, the black napkin was branded with gold detailing.

I was tempted to order one of the fun cocktails that required the use of smoke, bubbles, or intricate garnishes that I saw lining the bar. I reluctantly decided against it. If I was going to indulge, it was going to be done properly with Greer and Wren.

And not when I was playing sleuth.

“I’m all set for now, thanks,” I said.

He didn’t push and instead set a drink menu next to the napkin. “Wave me down if you change your mind.”

With one last scan of the room, it became clear that Easton must’ve gone into one of the other darkened buildings because he wasn’t there. I grudgingly started toward the exit when my phone vibrated, and I pulled it free.

Greer: Is this a distress text or a hookup check-in?

Wren: We thought you had a newspaper thing. Were you lying? If you ditched bestie laundry night for dick… Okay, we wouldn’t blame you.

I hadn’t told either of them who I was interviewing. I don’t even know why I’d kept it a secret other than I just… hadn’t wanted to share. With the turn the night had taken, it would make for a far better story now.

I was about to pocket my cell again to deal with later when another text popped up.

Greer: I googled the address and nothing showed. What’s happening? Where are you?

Not wanting my wonderfully protective friend to call in the cavalry, I fired off a quick message.

Me: Checking out a local bar. Will explain later. Definitely doing girls’ night soon. One that doesn’t involve chores.

I looked up from my phone just in time to stop myself from ramming into a ridiculously expensive-looking man—though not the one I’d been looking for.

“Hey there.” He gestured for me to go first. “After you, beautiful.”

Where do I know him from?

I took a few steps and then paused to watch as he continued all the way to the far corner of the room where a set of double doors were tucked in the shadows. The familiarity of his face needled at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place him.

Assuming he was headed for the bathroom, I changed direction to follow after. Partially because I was hoping to see him again since there were only so many mysteries I could stand in one day, but mostly because I also had to go before I drove home.

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