Page 107 of Sin Bin Daddies
Ashley leans in. “So what’s really got you crawling out of your skin? It’s not just the party.”
My jaw clenches.
My mind’s already somewhere else—back in Madeline’s apartment, in her bed, between her legs, watching her writhe for me, for us. Leo and Ford taking their time with her, her mouth slack, her voice gone hoarse from begging.
I shift, the fabric of my slacks suddenly too tight.
Ashley smirks knowingly. “Damn, Asher.”
I roll my eyes and discreetly adjust myself. “Shut up.”
“You look like you’re about to explode. Go to the bathroom or something.”
“I will,” I mutter, setting the flute down on a passing tray and stepping away.
But I don’t get far.
My mother materializes beside me again, a vision of perfection in an ivory gown, all diamonds and diplomacy. The mayor stands next to her, a man I’ve met twice and still couldn’t pick out of a lineup.
But it’s the girl beside him that locks everything into place. Big eyes and a body wrapped tight in satin.
“Asher, sweetheart,” my mother says, slipping into that smile she saves for photo ops and matchmaking, “this is Eleanor. The mayor’s niece. She just graduated from Brown. Economics.”
Of course she did.
Eleanor sticks out a hand. I take it, polite as ever, offering the same half-smile I use for fans and endorsements.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, even as I scan for exits.
“You too,” she says. “I saw one of your games. You were incredible.”
“Thanks.”
“You two should talk,” my mother interjects. “Eleanor’s staying in Miami for the next few months.”
I nod like I’m listening, then glance at my watch. “Excuse me. I need to make a call.”
Before they can rope me into another scripted conversation, I weave my way through the crowd, making a beeline for the hallway.
Inside the bathroom, I exhale hard. Cool marble, gold fixtures, too much perfume lingering in the air. I check the stalls. Empty.
I pull out my phone. The group chat’s quiet. Leo hasn’t sent a single update. Ford’s probably working late.
But it’s her name I tap.
It rings twice.
“Hey.” Her voice is soft. Off.
“Hey, baby,” I say, instantly lowering my tone. “You alright?”
“I’m okay.” A pause. “Just curled up with Sunny. He’s asleep on my feet.”
“Wish I was there.”
“Me too.”
“Everything alright?”
