Page 9 of Sugar Daddies

The worst thing about this fundraiser is that I can’t even go near a sip of alcohol, and the food bar is off-limits. Daddy knows I’ll get occupied with the food and get a tummy ache when I eat too much. I have no self-control, but it’s a good way to avoid talking to people.

I know they have questions as to why Daddy, being a much older man, would have his arms around a girl probably too young for him.

For the record, I am not too young. I’m just not old enough to drink yet, and even if I am, his strict rules prohibit me from going near it.

I wonder what kind of drunk I would be: the angrily loud drunk or the emotional one. I’m most likely the giggling one since it suits me the best; I don’t have much to be angry about or be too emotional.

“You’re here,” Mr. Stephan steps closer, and I tryreallyhard to not blend into Daddy’s side.

My dress is a short one. Daddy wants me to look like a doll for him, and I happily obliged. It’s not every day he lets me wear something this short outside of his mansion, and that is if he’s feeling generous.

This is a costumed dress that is form-fitting; the strapless top hugs my breasts and the little frilly puffiness at the bottom tickles my bare thighs. I have on a pair of little heels that boost up my frame, but I’m still a midget beside these two titans.

I feel exposed under their gaze; my arms are getting cold as I shyly wave at Mr. Stephan. My voice is stuck in my throat as his dashing beauty rivals Daddy’s in a sinister race that derails my heart.

Mr. Stephan bends his waist; the suit jacket stretches over his massive shoulders as his shadow covers the light from the chandelier above us. My breath hitches as he leans in closer. Daddy’s strong arm locks me to his side as Mr. Stephan’s lips touch my cheek.

I whimper at the scruffy sensation that scratched my skin. Heat pools in my tummy, and another sense of déjà vu runs through my body as my cheeks redden. As he fixes his posture, the chandelier beams the warmth of the light on my skin, and Mr. Stephan swipes the bottom of my lip with his thumb.

My lips are tinted with a lovely pink lip product that is waterproof and smudge-proof, so his finger doesn’t pick up any color.

He smiles, and I’m ready to melt to the ground if Daddy’s arm isn’t holding me up. I should be worried about his reaction to Mr. Stephan’s kiss, and it’s the same again. Daddy doesn’t look too bothered by it, and it’s worrying me; he should be knocking Mr. Stephan’s jaw loose already.

Any other person would be half dead on the ground with his fists bloodied, and it’s not the first time he took matters into his own hands when I’m made uncomfortable.

Maybe Daddy’s not doing anything because I actually like Mr. Stephan’s attention and his relationship with Daddy gives him a lot of leeway into what he can do.

Please don’t tell me he is some royalty from another country. I don’t want to offend him and get the capital punishment. I’m too young to be on death row, and I haven’t committed any crime yet.

Well, I don’t know what is considered a crime or not when it comes to royalty. I feel like if I look at him weird and he brings down Daddy’s hard-worked company, it’s not going to happen on my watch.

I’m going to be a big girl and protect his company. Anything Mr. Stephan wants me to do, I will do it, albeit reluctantly and not sounwillingly. Actually, I wouldn’t do anything Mr. Stephan asks me to; I have a boundary and that is Daddy’s commands.

He’s going to have to get through Daddy’s murderous temper first.

I’m afraid to see the end results because Mr. Stephan looks very capable too.

“The next shipment comes in exactly one week later,” Mr. Stephan’s voice brings me back to this dreadful gathering.

I have no idea what the purpose for it is, but it’s important enough for Daddy to come. I never come to these so today is a special day. He says that I have to be here for reasons that he wouldn’t say and I don’t push him either.

If the reason is important, he would have told me.

“What took them so long?” Daddy grunts as he slams the glass of champagne down on the round table.

My eyes go to the glass with small bubbles rising to the top. The gorgeous golden color is light and transparently beautiful. I want to run my tongue over that drink, and I can almost taste the yellow cream soda in my head. Champagne does have a similar look to cream soda, and I’m suddenly craving the carbonated sweet drink.

“Custom had problems with our paperwork; it took them weeks to verify the discrepancies and amount of sugar imported.” Mr. Stephan’s hand comes to my cheek and caresses the skin as my lashes flutter at the gentle touch.

What should I do? Do I tell him to stop? What if that offends him and then Daddy gets mad at me about it?

Do I let him touch, or does Daddy want me to stand up for myself?

Biting the inside of my cheek, I wish I could have the superpower to read minds, so I don’t always have these unnecessary anxieties and the need to plan my next step. It shouldn’t be this hard to read both of them, but it’s double the effort when they’re speaking in low voices so other people don’t hear.

“We’re losing money from it, and now, I have to push back the process even longer,” Daddy growls, squeezing my shoulder as Mr. Stephan’s warm hand slips into my curled hair.

The soft waves glide into his fingers. I silently thank myself for brushing out the curls before coming here. His fingers might have been stuck, and that would be embarrassing and quite excruciating too if he tries to casually pull his fingers free.

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