Page 25 of Sugar Coated Secrets

I narrow my eyes. “Good. Why?”

He shrugs. “Just asking. Now that you’re back and all.”

“You know what? I need an empty warehouse,” I tell him, changing the subject. “My cars are being delivered next week.”

He tosses me the keys. “It’s yours for as long as you want it.” He pulls out a carefully rolled blunt. “Where are you staying?”

“Ramada.”

“Far cry from the Ritz.”

“I didn’t want to be spotted.”

He chuffs a laugh. “You rode in a Porsche dressed like…that.”

He isn’t wrong. I wanted to impress her, but not with the car, of course. That’s business. Dulce doesn’t give a shit about that. I wanted to see if she would look at me like she used to in class, but she wouldn’t.

“It’s business.”

“Sponsor?”

“Yep.”

He lights up the end of the blunt. The cherry end glows like a red eye in the dark sky and he says before he takes a drag, “Shit, must be nice. Why don’t you stay with me until you figure out if you’re staying or want to be my silent partner.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Here,” he says and blows smoke toward the ceiling. The smell of marijuana floats in a cloud of smoke. “I have a loft on the second floor.”

“That works.”

He grins, holding out the blunt. “It’ll be like old times.”

“I’m good. I’ll be back.” I motion for him to follow me outside. Sliding my glasses on, I open the door to the Porsche, reach in, and hand him half of the macarons I bought from Dulce.

“Are those macarons from?—”

“Yeah, give them to your staff. I’m sure the guys will appreciate it. Also, order breakfast from the bakery everymorning and send one of the guys to pick it up. Make sure you order cakes, pastries, and whatever else she sells from her and not the supermarket. They get plenty of business from everyone else.”

“Playing the hero again,” he mocks.

“Someone ought to be,” I shoot back.

His eyes narrow slightly. His shoulders tense. He takes a drag and blows smoke before he looks away. It’s the second time he’s looked at me that way when I mention her.

“You should forget her. She would never go for it, and it’s not a good idea.”

My guard goes up. It’s the second time someone has warned me away from her. “Why is that?”

“Too much damage. Keep in mind you stood by and did nothing,” he says, reminding me like rubbing salt in a wound. “No one did. And your therapist said so. It’s why you left, no?”

I don’t give a fuck what the therapist thinks or what anyone thinks. That’s the problem.

And I’m not leaving until I find out what he means because something doesn’t add up.

9

DULCE

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