Page 41 of Sugar

I wonder if she’ll want to leave immediately.

Even as I thought it, I knew that wouldn’t be the case. If nothing else, her self-proclaimed nosiness would keep her riveted.

I shook my head. “Keep her at the bar, though.”

“Got it,” he agreed as Maddie returned.

Once she was close, she lowered her voice and finally launched in with the rapid-fire questions I’d been anticipating. “What is this place? What were those forms? What’s going on?”

Ignoring her questions for the time being, I made introductions instead. “Maddie, this is Cohen.”

She glared at me before politely offering a distracted greeting to the other man. “Hello.”

Cohen wasn’t distracted as he smiled down at her before turning it to me. “This will be fun to watch.”

“What will?” she asked.

I ignored them both. “Cohen is going to show you the bar.”

“Where will you be?”

“A meeting.”

She opened her mouth, and I could practically taste her argument, but Cohen cut in. “The bar at Gilded,notGolden.”

“Gilded?”

His responding smile looked playful on the surface. The kind that matched his boy-next-door good looks. But I’d known him long enough to know how it really was.

And to suddenly doubt my decision to leave her with him, even for a short time.

Fucking charming bastard.

I cut a warning glare to him before pressing my palm to Maddie’s lower back to start her toward the entrance. I should’ve learned my lesson the first time I’d done it in Doug’s kitchen and kept my hands to myself, but that didn’t seem to be possible where Maddie was concerned.

When we reached the door, Cohen grabbed the handle and paused for some dramatics. He opened it slowly and gave Maddie a few beats to take it all in before saying, “Welcome to Gilded.”

At first glance, the main room looked similar to Golden—an upscale bar with ample seating and nothing out of the ordinary. After all, sex and full nudity weren’t allowed in the open space.

But the intent was there.

I watched Maddie as she watched the room with something more than the detached indifference of a journalist. Her wide eyes. The blown pupils that nearly eliminated the pretty blue surrounding them. Her parted lips.

I’m going to hell.

Once we reached a high top at the edge of the bar—closest to the offices and farthest from the crush of people—I pointed to astool. “Sit.” When she did, I grabbed her chin to tilt her head so she was looking at me. “Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back. Understood?”

She must’ve been more thrown than I thought because she didn’t argue or ask a single question.

Fuck, this is a mistake.

I forced myself to release her and walk away, lifting my chin at the guard that was positioned outside of the dimly lit hallway.

The door to Atlas’ office was already cracked, so I knocked before pushing it open.

The scary motherfucker’s dark glower softened—slightly—when he saw it was me. “Hey, sorry to pull you away.” His apology would’ve gone a lot farther if he wasn’t holding a gun while he issued it. He set it carefully into the open safe before slamming the door closed.

“You’re good.”

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