Page 87 of Sugar

The only complimentary thing to be said about the whole shindig was that the party space itself looked beautiful. That was no surprise since I’d seen Melissa working behind the scenes—usually trying to talk Violet or the chef down.

If the event planner from Gilded recognized me from the auction, she gave no indication in the polite greeting she’d offered me and Easton.

The other positive was my date. His frequent commentary and disgruntled critiques made it difficult to stifle my laughter. The fact he always leaned closer to whisper them in my ear caused a very different reaction that I also smothered.

When a plate of beef carpaccio salad—something that looked and smelled like they’d accidentally harvested the dirt from the garden rather than the vegetables—was set in front of us, he leaned in again. “When Dave said he asked for steak for his dinner, I doubt this is what he had in mind.”

“I doubt this is whatanyonehas in mind when they hear the word steak.”

His soft chuckle near my ear was more than I could take, and I tried to shift to put some distance between us.

Distance he didn’t allow.

He gripped my face and squeezed my cheeks as he tilted my face up, forcing me to look at him. I thought he was going to chide me for attempting to move away. But he just held the eye contact for a tense moment before moving his hold to palm the back of my head. He kept his tight grip there as he used his free hand to fork up some food.

I didn’t bother eating any. Even if I would’ve been able to stomach the smell and taste before—and that was a bigif—the butterflies having a rave in my stomach prevented me from swallowing a bite.

That lone bite was all he managed before he dropped the fork with a clatter. He angled my head toward his mouth. “Fast food burgers on the way home?”

“Please.”

“Christ, this is shit. People have started cutting out. We’ll leave soon.”

I shook my head, and my mostly empty stomach threatened to launch up and attack me at my betrayal. “Once that first brave soul left and opened the floodgate, too many followed. Violet is getting upset, and that seems distressing to Dave. It’ll look better if we stay for a while.”

“I don’t give a shit about that. I owe you some edible food.”

“And you’ll fulfill that obligation. I even plan on making you spring for animal style and a milkshake. But I can wait.”

“At least one of us can…”

My laughter cut off when one of our table mates stood suddenly and headed toward the bathroom—with what appeared to be a stuffed napkin. A vaguely familiar looking man took her spot. He was probably only in his mid-forties, but what was likely a consistent lack of sun protection had left him with overly tan and aged skin that was extra creased with lines. Not smile ones.

Frown lines.

Or maybe glower lines. I wasn’t sure if that was a thing, but even with his relaxed features, he came across as angry.

It didn’t help when he slapped the table and made me jolt. “Easton Wells, how the hell are ya?”

Easton must’ve just noticed his arrival because his hand tightened reflexively on my head. “Jerry.”

“It’s been a long time. Good to see you, but not as good as it is to see your lovely date.” He smiled at me. “What’s your name, darling?”

“This is Maddie,” Easton introduced, though there was an odd edge in his voice. “Maddie, this is Jerry.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, taking his outstretched hand.

The man kept hold of mine, and I almost didn’t care. I was too distracted trying to place him.

It’s Niko Stavros all over again.

“How did you meet this lucky bastard? He rarely leaves his office, so are you also an attorney?” He narrowed his eyes for emphasis. “No, you’re too pretty to be soulless. What do you do, beautiful Maddie?”

Easton answered for me again, adding a low chuckle. “Nothing. I keep her too busy.” He tugged me to plaster my side to his, dislodging my hand from the other man. “Isn’t that right, guppy?”

I secretly loved the nickname—awkward origin aside—but the condescending way he said it was enough to change that in an instant. Instead of warming my belly, it made me grit my teeth as I forced a smile.

The other man tried to ask me more, but Easton cut in each time with evasive and patronizing answers that steered clear of any mention of my actual life. The skillful way he handled it without his motives coming across as strained and suspicious gave me a glimpse at what made him a successful attorney. It would’ve been impressive if it weren’t for the glaring fact he was making abundantly clear.

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