Candy King

by Christine d'Abo

  He’d been careful—he always was—when he’d texted her. It was probably just a coincidence that a reporter was asking about his background. His family was well known in the city, and he’d been in the media more than once.

  Shit, he hoped it wasn’t her. She’d hit every one of his buttons, and her flirty, fun nature had brought a smile to his face the moment she’d texted him. They’d had a connection that he’d started to enjoy, probably more than he should. He should have known that the moment his feelings were tweaked, something bad would happen.

  “Mr. Williams?”

  “Sorry, Sonya. Did she say anything else?”

  “Just that she’d be in touch later. I just wanted to let you know in case you got any weird phone calls.”

  Dylan’s frown pulled his face into an uncomfortable position. “Thanks, Sonya. I’ll make sure to keep my eyes open. Anything else?”

  “I know your father is at the party with you, but he called me about an hour ago to put a meeting on your calendar. Something about a new project he wants you to take the lead on.”

  Dylan sighed even as the muscles in his neck and back tightened. He was spread way too thin these days, and there was no way he’d be able to adequately run another project. He was barely sleeping, and he’d eaten out for the past several meals rather than cook for himself at home. He loved to cook and wanted more time to just enjoy the life that he’d worked so hard to build for himself. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “I know.” Of all the people who worked at Williams Development, Sonya probably was one of the few who understood how worn out he was. “Do you want me to set up a different meeting? I can pull you out with an emergency if that will help? Just let me know, and I’ll flag the action in my system.”

  “I adore you. You’re the best personal assistant the world could ever have given me.”

  “Aww, stop it, boss. You’re going to make me blush.” She chuckled. “When will you be back in the office?”

  “Tomorrow morning around ten.” His phone buzzed in his hand, indicating that he’d gotten a message. “I’ll let you go. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Yup. See you tomorrow.”

  Dylan was going to have to make sure that she got a bonus on top of her raise this year. Before he checked the message, he stepped back into the banquet hall and grabbed another glass of wine from a waiter. There was no way he’d be able to do what his father wanted him to do, not without severely impacting every aspect of his life. It was about time someone else stepped up and took charge.

  For once in his life, he intended to live it the way he wanted, without having to look after everyone else.

  His phone buzzed in his hand, drawing his attention. The message indicator on his phone was from the sugar daddy app, which meant she’d sent him another message. If it had been any other day, he would have enjoyed what had become his favorite distraction. But if the reporter was in fact his Sugar Tart, then things would be irrevocably changed between them.

  He drained the wine and grabbed another one as he stared at the screen, deciding if he should read it or not. He could be wrong about her, drawing connections where there weren’t any. The whole point of the app was to get to know the other person, to fill in some of the holes in their life.

  Pressing the button, he quickly read her message. He grabbed another glass of wine from a waiter and drank most of it in one go. What the hell was he going to do? He reread the message, just to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood her intentions.

  I’ve been a bad girl. I wanted to know who you were so much that I did some digging. I know who you are. But I don’t want you to think that I’m going to blackmail you or anything. I just wanted to meet. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing on a sugar daddy site? Is there a chance we could get together for coffee and talk?

  Dylan couldn’t put his finger on why, deep down in his gut, he knew that coming face-to-face with her was going to end badly for him. She’d never given off the stranger-danger vibe, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t a con artist of some sort who was looking for a way to make a quick buck. If she was the reporter, then she apparently had an idea of who he was now, which wouldn’t end well for him either.

  There wasn’t anything he could do to stop her from going public with that information. He’d made a promise to himself years ago that if he were ever faced with the choice between blackmail or his identity being released, he would allow it to come out. Then he’d shut down the site.

  Unless, of course, he could dissuade her from going any further with her quest to discover who he was. Moving to stand against the wall, he thought for a moment before typing out a message.

  You have been a bad girl. Why do you want to know who I am so badly? I have to say it’s a bit unnerving to have someone be so determined.

  Maybe things weren’t as bad as he was assuming. She might be naturally curious or wanting to land the biggest sugar daddy on the site for her own gain. There didn’t need to be a big, horrible reason for her wanting to know. Did there?

  I’m a reporter.

  Shit, of course, it was her. He was about to delete their messages when her follow-up caused him to stop.

  A couple I interviewed fell in love on your site. They were so happy that I got my very best friend in the world to sign up as well. She also fell in love, and they’re getting married soon. I’ve talked to several couples (through the app; I didn’t hunt them down), who’ve found their happy ending with a person they love because of your app. I wanted to find out what made your site so different. What was it that allowed people to make these connections beyond sex/time for money? I have no plans to out you, but I’d love to meet, to talk to you about what you’ve built.

  Dylan’s head spun as he read and reread the message. Sure, it wasn’t unbelievable that some of his clients might have found love beyond their original arrangements on the site, but that had nothing at all to do with him. Jesus, he built the fucking thing because he was against long-term relationships. She must be cherry-picking who she was talking to, getting an incorrect impression about what people were doing.

  He started to type a response when another message from her popped up.

  If you say no, then I’ll walk away. I won’t do anything to ruin what you’ve built. It’s helping too many people.

  Shit. Dylan deleted his message and stared at it again. Laughter from the room pulled his attention from the dilemma unfolding in front of him. It was nearly speech time, which meant he was going to have to get up and say his few words and do…something or other with the maid of honor. A game of some sort. Jonathan stood by Sarah and waved at him to come over.

  He’d have to deal with his Sugar Tart at a later time.

  Let me think about it. I’ll let you know one way or the other in a few days.

  He didn’t wait to see what her response was and slipped his phone into his pocket as he marched over to the waiting group. His demise was officially postponed.

  For now.

  Chapter 5

  Simone was many things—curious, silly, talked a bit too much when she got excited about something—but mistaken about Dylan Williams being the infamous Candy King wasn’t one of them. When she’d called Williams Development and asked his assistant where he’d gone to school, she’d been shocked when the woman went and found out. It wasn’t exactly foolproof confirmation of his identity, but it gave her enough confidence to reach out to him on the website and see if he’d bite at her proposal.

  She hadn’t stopped her research with the nickname from the yearbook, but it was a starting point that held its place. With each new fact she learned, the information always seemed to circle around to him—from his nickname at university to his financial investments, which he’d publicized over the years. But it had been the corporate picture she’d found on the Williams Development website that had sealed it for her.


  Dylan Williams was exactly the same height, weight, and age, and he had the necessary skills and connections to pull off a site like this. He appeared older than he had in the yearbook, which wasn’t exactly surprising but still gave her pause. If anything, he’d aged extremely well. But there was something in his eyes that caught her attention and stimulated an emotion that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He looked…sad? No, that wasn’t it. Stoic? Maybe, though she didn’t know enough about his life to know what he’d need to be stoic about.

  She’d stared at his handsome face for more than an hour before finally sending him the message on the app. This was the man who’d gotten off at the same time as her while in their respective corporate bathrooms. While everything in his reputation said he was a straitlaced, upstanding community man, she now knew he had a naughtier side that loved to get dirty.

  All she had to do was to meet him—ask him the question to his face so she could see his reaction—then she’d know for sure. She’d finally have her Candy King where she wanted him.

  As long as he agreed.

  A few days had turned into a week and a half, and she still hadn’t heard back from him. Simone was impatient by nature, but she didn’t want to fuck this up by pushing too hard, too fast. She had no doubt that he’d grant her an interview once he’d had enough time to think. She just had to bide her time and not track him down at a bar while he was conducting a business meeting.

  Oops.

  In all fairness, she hadn’t intended to walk into the bar when she saw him on the street. It was a complete fluke that she’d been assigned to do a story on the library back-to-school programs around the city and had decided to take the subway instead of her car. So when she’d popped out from the station and saw him leading a group of men into a restaurant across the street, Simone promptly forgot about heading back to the office and followed them into the building.

  That was why she’d been sitting at the bar of a restaurant she could in no way afford, watching Williams schmooze with a group of business investors. Well, she assumed they were investors because they didn’t look very friendly and Williams was doing his best to charm them. The Candy King doesn’t seem to win all the time.

  Simone stirred the melting ice in her glass with her straw, ignoring the growing crick in her neck as she did her best to keep from being too obvious about what she was doing. This was her first official stakeout, and she had every intention of nailing it.

  It was fascinating being able to watch Dylan from afar. The way his easy smile seemed to get easier as he poured more wine into everyone’s glasses did things to her body that were far from proper. If there’d been a single woman in that group, Simone had no doubt that she’d have been all over Dylan. Simone was finding it quite challenging to keep her distance, especially when his unexpected laugh reached her.

  Everyone was all smiles around the table, which meant he’d finally broken through whatever wall had been erected. Dylan’s shoulders dropped visibly as he leaned back against his chair.

  He wasn’t movie-star handsome, but there was sex appeal to the sharp angles of his face, the long bridge of his nose. Simone wanted nothing more than to lick his full lips. She wondered what it would be like to have his face between her legs.

  And yeah, probably not the best time to be having sexual fantasies about her mark.

  I’m a naughty girl; what else would he expect from me?

  God, this was such a horrible idea. She should have turned around and gone in the other direction when she’d spotted him. Nothing good could come of her current obsession with her Candy King. Sure, Carl would give her a hard time if he knew what she’d done with him, but that was online and, as far as she was concerned, her own private business. Nothing she’d done officially could harm the paper or her reputation. As long as she was careful and kept things professional when they met in person, everything should be fine.

  Williams laughed again, and Simone couldn’t help but glance his way. You’re going to get in so much trouble with this one.

  She tried not to stare, but it was tough not to when he reached up and loosened his tie before rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. God, that was one of her kinks. There was nothing sexier than a man in business attire that was half undone. Images of her undoing the rest of his buttons flashed through her mind. Crossing her legs increased the pressure on her clit, making sitting on the stool a painful tease.

  Shit, she was going to have to do something about that as soon as she got home.

  “Do you want another?”

  She jumped at the sound of the bartender’s voice, her hand catching her glass and sending it falling. “Shit!” Water and the sticky remains of her drink sloshed across the bar and covered her purse. “Shit, shit, do you have a napkin?”

  The bartender had a cloth in his hand and had mopped up the mess up before the words were out of her mouth. Great, not only had she drawn attention to herself, she really was going to have to buy another drink now. So much for keeping costs down.

  “I’m sorry. Yes, can I have another?” Simone was thankful for having taken an Uber here because she was far more of a lightweight than she liked to admit. Two drinks, especially the sweet kind, were more than she normally indulged in. “And water. Please.”

  The bartender left to fill her order, which left Simone alone to examine the damage done to her purse. It was a Kate Spade, one she’d saved up for months to buy before she went to work for the paper. Her mom had told her that if she was going to be a professional and wanted to be taken seriously, it was vital for her to project a specific image. Her friend Kayla had offered to buy her one—a purse worth a few hundred dollars wasn’t a large purchase for a woman of her wealth—but Simone knew that, in this particular case, the act of buying the purse herself was almost as important as the image it projected.

  It was her first act of independence, the first and only luxury purchase she’d made right out of college. And it was now ruined.

  Red syrup darkened the pale green fabric and would undoubtedly leave a stain. Her chest tightened at the sight, and it suddenly became hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. No fucking way would she cry over a damaged purse that she might be able to find a way to salvage. She wasn’t twenty-one with no job prospects. She was employed, with aspirations that would take her places. With a sigh, she dipped the cloth napkin into the water the bartender dropped off and began to do her best to clean it up.

  “My mother always says that soda water is the way to get stains out.”

  Simone jerked around, startled for the second time in five minutes, to come face-to-face with the one person she’d wanted to talk to, as much as she tried to avoid him. Dylan Williams stood behind her, his hands on his hips and that teasing smile on his lips. Being this close to him gave her the barest glimpse of throat beneath the fabric of his shirt. His skin appeared naturally darkened and teased her. What would he taste like if she leaned in and licked him right there?

  He cleared his throat and nodded toward her purse. “I’m not sure if it actually works, but it might be worth a try until you can take it someplace to get it cleaned.”

  “Thanks.” Oh shit, this is it and him, and oh shit, I need to say something. “Uh, yeah. I’ll have to try that.” Smooth, you dumbass.

  Dylan slipped his hands into his pockets, which squared his body directly toward hers. “Now that I’ve helped with that, I’m wondering if there is something else I can do for you?”

  Simone’s stomach did a little flip. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been sitting there staring at me for nearly an hour. I figured you were simply curious or were going to ask me out. But you’re not drinking or looking at anyone else. And most women who are trying to get my attention make more of an effort to catch my eye.” He cocked his head to the side and smiled. “If you’re trying to figure out what my next investment is, you might want to
take a table closer to me, instead of sitting here.”

  “I’m not doing that.” She sat up straighter. “God, do I look like someone who invests a ton of money?”

  “Based on your reaction to your purse getting ruined? No. Which means you’re probably a journalist looking for a story.” There was no mistaking the meaning he put behind those words. She could almost hear his silent “Sugar Tart” at the end of the sentence. Dylan’s gaze traveled up and down her body, only to stop at her eyes. “On a different day, I might have bitten on the damsel-in-distress routine.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but the arrival of the bartender at their end of the bar stopped him. “Whatever story you’re after, I’m afraid you’re not going to find it. Go home, Lois Lane. You’re out of your league.”

  Shock froze Simone to her seat and stole her words. She was helpless to do anything other than watch as he went back to his table and reclaimed the attention of his group.

  Well.

  That fucking sucked.

  Her face heated as the bartender came over with a debit machine. “I take it you want the bill?”

  She could only nod, as she fumbled for her credit card. God, maybe Carl was right about this. Perhaps she really wasn’t cut out for this type of journalism. If she couldn’t even handle getting approached by an attractive man who figured out that she was after a story—one that really wasn’t going to be all that hard-hitting—then how the hell would she handle something more difficult?

  The answer was, she wouldn’t. Keeping her gaze averted from where Williams sat, she grabbed her purse and strode with what little dignity she could muster out of the restaurant.

  The moment she stepped outside, noise from Toronto’s busy core washed over her, as did the evening breeze. Groups of pedestrians parted around her, like water around a river stone, leaving her feeling isolated and alone.