Page 2 of Sugar Baby
“You’re a fucktard,” Hugh complains with a loud groan. “How? How do you do it?”
“Smarter than you, arsehole,” I mutter and stand up. “I’m out. Take my chips.” I shove them towards him, not interested in my winnings. What am I going to do with it? Spend it on myself? Yeah, not that sort of guy. Now, I'd keep every last penny if I could buy something pretty for Sophia. But that will never happen in this lifetime or the next. I like my head on my shoulders, and messing with Quinn in any aspect, but especially with his daughter, is a bad idea. Averybad idea. Men have paid with their lives for lusting after her overtly.
Idiots.
They should’ve kept it to themselves like the rest of us muppets.
I head in the opposite direction to where Sophia went, making my way down the long hallway to my room. I go in and shut the door, taking in the sparse surroundings and minimal furniture. I like it this way. Fancy furnishings are a distraction and one I can’t afford in my effort to keep this pack safe. The only luxurious thing in here is the thick black carpet that sinks under my feet. But only because I spend a lot of time on the floor exercising. We have a weight room and a boxing ring on the compound, but I usually prefer my own company. I have demons that lurk, and they come out at inopportune moments. It’s best to keep to myself as much as I can. It all stems from my shitty childhood. Insert eye roll here. Yeah. Yeah. But being abandoned on the side of the road to be picked up by a gang to sell on the black market does that to a guy. One baby alpha male, coming up. The pricks who bought me didn’t have a kind bone in their body and used me from the day I could walk to fetch and carry, clean, and do errands which grew worse and worse the older I got. Being sixteen and ordered to get in bed with your ‘mom’ is something that sticks with you no matter how drunk you get, how many people you beat up or how many women you shag. I sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up here as part of a pack. Sure, almost everyone here is a criminal in some aspect, but they care for each other. Look out for each.We. We care for and look out for each other.
Must’ve been nice.
A loud knock on the door brings me out of my meditative state. I tear my eyes from the big window over my single bed, which looks out over the small lake that sits on the far side of the compound.
I turn towards it and reach for the handle. I already know who it is. The scent is feral and masculine, a bit woodsy and dark. If ‘dark’ was a smell, of course.
“Aidan,” I say, opening the door and stepping back. “What’s up?”
“Cain. I need you to do a job,” he says, coming in and shutting the door behind him.
The two of us in this small room gives it the feel of being overcrowded. He isn’t a small man. Bigger than me by a few inches in height and bulk. His Irish accent is broad and rough. His daughter looks a little bit like him, but she favours Francesca’s — her mother’s — beauty more.
“Anything you need.”
He nods, pleased that I don’t make waves. “There’s this heist going down in a couple of days. It’s not far from the event that Sugar is attending on the same day.”
Sugar. I love that. Suits her.
“I need you to step in and escort Sugar to that event. I’ve tried to pull her out of it, but Cesca practically ripped my face off,” he grouses, good-naturedly admitting that his wife is a bit of a hellcat. We all know it. Her fiery Italian temper, coupled with her omega instincts to protect, make her very volatile and explosive. Sometimes I wonder if Sophia is also that way.
I snicker, knowing this is allowed because he was the one who brought it up. Woe betide anyone who mentions it without first being given the all-clear.
He sighs. “It’s her friend’s event, and she promised Sugar would attend. It’s not worth my balls if I don’t allow her to go. But you see my predicament? I need the best to protect my baby girl just in case things reach the party she is at. I’d like to say they won’t, but you know how these things go…”
Yeah, he doesn’t need to elaborate.
Often we are the ones creating the ‘how these things go’. I don’t need schooling.
“Of course,” I say, having no choice. Did I want to spend the day babysitting? No. Did I want to be in on the heist? Absolutely. Will I complain to Quinn about it? Definitely not. And last but not least, will I use this opportunity to get to know Sophia better?
Guess we will find out in two days.
ChapterThree
Sugar
Lifting my heel onto the plush stool I’m sitting on in front of the ornate, old-fashioned dresser that was my Italian grandmother’s, I carefully paint my toenails a garish red. It’s not my usual colour, but I feel like something needs to be lively today, because it isn’t me. Yesterday’s trip out was less than impressive, apart from the tongue fuck from Nico. That was pretty good.
I look up as there is a soft tap on my door, and then it opens. My mother pokes her head around.
“Can I come in?” she asks with a smile.
I nod, and she comes closer, shutting the door behind her. “Red?” she asks, staring at my toes. “That won’t go with your dress tomorrow.”
“I know; I’ll swap it later,” I murmur, focusing on the task at hand.
“You look so pretty today,” she says, perching on the dresser and folding her hands in front of her. “Your hair suits you with those big, loose curls.”
I smile up at her. “Well, all I had to do was look at you with them to know they’d suit me.” My mother is a stunner. Even in her early fifties, she turns heads. She finds it hilarious, my dad…not so much. But I think secretly, he enjoys having such a beauty on his arm.
