Page 15 of Sugar Baby Mine

“Isn’t that what someone in the mafia would say?”

Ben gives me an amused grin as he takes a sip of his water. The only thing that’s my saving grace is that my medical files wouldn’t be accessible to him, but he could see the abundance of them. Could see my one police report and the fact that I was on probation for a year after an incident at my parents’ house. Thankfully, jail was never actually in the cards for me.

My head spins, and I take my own sip of water.

“If I was in the mafia, surely I could think of a less stressful day job than running an architecture and construction firm.”

I can’t help but frown. “Stressful?”

He shrugs, but I can see the tension in his shoulders at the topic.

Jacob walks toward our table over Ben’s shoulder, my attention glued to him as as he sets our appetizers down between us. Crunchy bread with tomatoes and balsamic glaze that wafts under my nose and then squash twisted into blossoms that look just like a fried flower from far away.

“Enjoy,” Jacob says with a flourish, spinning away with his tray before either of us even have a chance to say anything else.

Ben reaches for a piece of bruschetta at the same time as me and our fingers brush. I try to ignore the way it feels like an electric current racing up my limb. He backs off, and I pick the piece up, biting into it just as he begins to speak again.

“My work is all about micromanagement. Watching overeverything everyone else does. Even when you’ve made it to the top, being the big boss is never easy. At the end of the day, it’s still my name and Fred’s that people judge, whether it’s something I or one of my employees did. Architecture is something a little more permanent than most avenues, so it comes at a higher cost.”

“Of course.” Doesn’t mean I like the thought of it. “Being able to shoulder all of that makes you a good business owner. But I’m sorry to hear that it’s so stressful.”

“That’s why I agreed to this meeting,” Ben admits, picking at a squash blossom. “I’m not looking for the added stress of a vanilla relationship. Like I said, I tried it—it wasn’t working for me.”

I purse my lips, but I get it. There’s a ton of different reasons that make sense for him to be doing this. “But you haven’t sought a sugar baby before now. Before Fred proposed this.”

He runs a hand through his hair, and it’s criminal how it only makes him look more enticing. I want to fix the little pieces that don’t fall neatly back in place. To count the silver strands laced throughout like the stars in the night sky.

“It’s not like it wasn’t on my radar at all. Fred isn’t just my business partner, he’s my best friend. I’ve known what Cora is to him from the beginning.”

Oh, I want more than that.Surelythere’s more than that. No matter how much my cousin prattles on about only being his sugar baby, about not getting attached, she’s very much in love with Fred.

“You didn’t even know what I looked like. Who’s to say you would even be attracted to me?”

There’s a smirk on his face, and suddenly I want to slap it off him.

“You know I’m aware social media exists right? I’m not that old.”

There’s a cringe working up my spine, and I have to work sohard to suppress it that I nearly bite my tongue. There’s some less than savory content between my Facebook, Instagram, Tinder, and Twitter. Not to mentionjuvenile, depending on how far back he scrolled on some of those. I debate deleting my entire existence off the internet right fucking now, but he’s probably seen all he wanted to at this point.

“And here I know absolutely nothing about you. Just how old isnot that old?”

“Forty-five.”

Oh, that’s not that bad.

Ben definitely doesn’t even look that old in retrospect. He’s got some gray hairs that give him that silver fox air, but it looks good on him. Distinguished. Powerful. Sexy. Dominant. I can live with forty-five, considering Icouldhave been entering an arrangement with someone even older if I went a more traditional route.

Even though he’s definitely the same age as my parents, maybe a smidge younger. The math is also telling me there’s a whole twenty-one year difference between us.An entire person who can drink alcohol. This man was drinking alcohol before I was even out of the womb.

I really hate math, by the way.

I suck in a breath, realizing I’m downing my water when the ice hits my teeth and I’m coughing. What am I doing here again? This man has so much more experience than me in everything I could possibly think of. And as much as that should bring comfort, I’m not sure I’m worthy of his time.

“Is something wrong with that?” he asks. Thank God he cut in, because I was starting to spiral again.

I can’t help it when the words come out of my mouth. “Am I supposed to call youdaddy?”

The way his expression darkens, eyes drop half-lidded, and hand clenches around his glass of water is very telling all on itsown.

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