Page 1 of Sugar Baby Mine

Chapter 1

“You need a sugar daddy.”

I nearly choke on a mouthful of too many gummy bears, another handful on the way to my mouth. “I’m sorry—what?”

Cora sighs then says, “You’re eating snacks—candy, mind you, for dinner.”

“You said you didn’t want them…” I mumble, popping the candy in my mouth as my teeth ache from the sugar overload.

She tosses a strand of freshly-curled, glossy red hair over her shoulder and sets the curling wand down. She swivels at her vanity to look at me, long, pale legs that could blind someone peeking through her elegant, navy silk robe.

Jealousy ripples through my veins.

“I said thatafteryou tore into the bag with your teeth like some sort of mongrel.” Cora’s lips purse, arms crossing over her chest. There’s a flash of genuine concern in her eyes, andthat’sthe terrifying part. “Not to mention you’ve been wearing that rag of a shirt for the past three days, Emme.”

Okay, she’s not entirely wrong.

Picking at the collar, I crane to look down the neck of my oversized shirt and sniff at the front of the faded fabric. “Itsmells fine. I haven’t exactly been doing anything—”

“And that’s the problem.” She huffs. “I know it’s been hard working at the flower shop, but you haven’t even tried to find another job. You should ask for full-time benefits, you practically make the hours.”

As someone who works thirty-four hours a week only to hope I never need to make a hospital trip, I’m well aware.

Falling back against the red satin covering the bed, I roll onto my stomach with a groan. The bag of candy crinkles under me, and I bury my head into one of the pillows that smells like the shampoo I can’t afford to splurge on. With a greedily inhale, I fist my hands in Cora’s expensive sheets.

“Why did I even go to college? I’m drowning in debt for a degree I’m not even doing anything with. How come no one told me I couldn’t do anything with a BA in psychology without experience?”

And how do you get experience if no one will hire you? I’m certainly not going back for my master’s degree. I burnt out on school enough with only four years.

It’s bad enough that I can’t even afford my half of the rent right now; the fact that Cora is only living with me out of pity makes it sting all the more. There’s no way I can afford a place on my own in the city. Not even a glorified shoebox. And I refuse to live with someone I don’t know.

Her hand comes down atop my head, a sympathetic pat, before she’s pushing my shoulder and rolling me onto my side. I blink up at her as she perches gracefully on the edge of the bed.

“That’s why you need someone like Freddy.”

An undignified snort leaves my body. “You call himFreddy?”

“I call himdaddysometimes, too, but that is neither here nor there.”

I gag.

Bright red fingernails shaped like little daggers flick my ear.Hard. It stings like abitch.

“Ow!” I yelp, cupping my hand over my ear.

“I’m serious, Emme. I think you would like having someone take care of you,” she says much softer now, her fingers spreading over the rose gold chain at her wrist absently.

A lot of what Cora has in our apartment—these ridiculous satin sheets, her jewelry, makeup, hell, the food in our pantry—are all a culmination of rewards from her relationship with Frederick Cole, a man nearly twice our age.

My cousin was always destined for a life of luxury, never anything less. To be out from under her mother’s patronizing thumb and rules had its downfalls, even in adulthood. This was her way of supplementing that familiar lifestyle.

Her mother was a high-end escort for many years after her husband died and had no shame in it. What Cora was doing wasn’t any less demeaning, rather it was achingly familiar. She was a sugar baby, in an exclusive relationship with one man. But of course it hadn’t started that way.

Me, on the other hand? An entirely different story.

“Freddy’s business partner recently went through a divorce, though they were separated for a long while prior. Says he’s been pretty lonely,” Cora prompts. “I’ve seen him at events and gatherings. A hint of salt and pepper, tall, a little gruff—a total DILF.”

“I just…I don’t want to date someone that’s my father’s age.”

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