Page 43 of Sugar

Chapter 8

For the Vibes

MADDIE

Iwasn’t sure what Iwas 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.

“Whatisthis 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.

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