Mr. Sugar: A disturbing psychological thriller with a twist of dark romance

by L. D. Fox

  Drew blinked and straightened. “You said you needed it first thing this morning.”

  Greg cocked his head. Then he slowly steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat back in his chair. “And I did. Thank you.”

  “You’re not even going to read it?” He clenched his jaw, but the words had already been said.

  Mr. Trent cocked his head again, staring at Drew as if he’d never seen him before. “Are you feeling all right, Mr. Sugar?”

  “I’m fine. I just—” he flicked his fingers toward the file. “That’s three days’s work, lying there. The least you could do is look at it.”

  Gregory’s eyes flinched — it was the precursor to stern words — but obviously Drew’s brain had gone into Kamikaze mode.

  “I mean, hell, it’s not like you have anything else to do right now, do you?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Sugar. I didn’t realize you were having a bad day.” Mr. Trent came slowly to his feet, ran both hands down the front of his suit, and gave Drew a slow, intense scan. “Should I reschedule my appointments so I can sit here and deal with your shit?”

  The man’s words never rose in pitch or volume. Drew swallowed hard, kept his jaw clamped shut in case words decided to spill out that would have him fired the instant they were spoken and backed out of the office with a curt nod.

  Outside, he leaned with his back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling until he could feel his fingertips again.

  He was losing his shit.

  Giving his head a shake that did fantastic things to the new headache blooming inside it, he strode to his office.

  This was all because of Kelly. Because he couldn’t get the woman’s shocked expression out of his mind. And he’d just left her there, after belting out words that, given half a second, she had to know meant that he’d found out about her and Bryce.

  He’d called her a slut.

  And then driven away.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  He snapped open his briefcase, flung the papers inside that he’d taken out less than ten minutes ago, and then slammed it shut again.

  Flowers. They would work, right? Flowers and a cheesecake from Denny’s. Did she like cheesecake? What if she didn’t? What if she was lactose intolerant? He scoured his brain, trying to remember everything he’d eaten last night. There’d been a cheesecake in the kitchen — but what if she was sick of it already?

  His mind rambled away at him, throwing random confectionery-based suggestions his way until his head swam with half-seen images of donuts and red-velvet cakes and those weird, brightly colored things that looked held together with marshmallow fluff.

  He stepped out of his office and looked up at movement across the hall. Gregory Trent stood in his doorway, staring at Drew.

  An icicle slid down his back as Drew’s muscles stiffened.

  “Goodbye, Sugar.” Greg half-turned back into his office before pausing and glancing back at him. “Feel better soon.”

  Drew’s lips compressed into a thin, hard line as he nodded and spun around.

  “Condescending prick,” he muttered under his breath.

  He passed by Bryce’s office, hearing his brother’s muted voice through the door. The words were unintelligible, but the smarminess wasn’t. Had he made up with his last chick — Joy, wasn’t it? — or was he calling that Susie girl from last night? He glowered at the door, hoping his twin would feel it through the wood.

  In his car, Drew rested his head back and let out a long breath. He lit a cigarette, rolled down the window, and narrowed his eyes at the crisp, wet air that rushed inside as he turned into the road.

  Denny’s was out of cheesecake, so he went to the bakery a few blocks away. They hadn’t made any fresh cakes, and the cheesecake slice they had left had seen better days. He stopped for a meat pie and a cup of dishwater they’d fobbed off on him instead of the coffee he’d ordered and realized he’d left his phone at the office when he wanted to use it to direct him to the next closest bakery. So he got half-hearted directions from the cashier of the bakery who only baked every second day.

  Almost two hours later, he was lost, almost out of gas, and cursing himself.

  Why the hell had he taken his phone out of his briefcase in the first place?

  Lighting a cigarette, Drew pushed open his car door and stared at the streaming motorway below him. He’d parked in a small cul-de-sac overlooking the busy highway, urgently in need of some nicotine-saturated air before he lost his shit for good.

  He tipped his wrist and peered at his watch. He recognized the motorway — it was his quickest route home. Hopefully, Kelly would be there. And, if he hurried, he could be there just before lunch. Unless she’d decided to go out. But it was a chance he had to take.

  Because, if he didn’t make it right with Kelly, he’d be spending the rest of his days wondering what he’d missed out on.

  And he was done with that. He’d spent almost a year thinking about what his future with Juliet would have looked like, had she not gone to Denny’s that rainy mid-August day.

  He was done living in regret.

  20

  King of Hearts

  If he didn’t leave now, he’d be late. Still, he couldn’t resist going to poke at the bee’s nest that was his brother’s mind one last time. Bryce grabbed his phone, slid it into his pocket, and left his door ajar.

  Drew’s office was empty.

  He leaned against the door frame, scanning the place. He straightened, glanced over his shoulder, and took the phone that lay abandoned behind a stack of papers. Had it fallen from Drew’s briefcase? He pocketed it and turned to leave.

  Trent stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “He left about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  Trent shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

  “He sick?” Bryce asked, casually sliding the hand holding the phone into his pocket.

  “Sick, stressed, hungover.” Trent gave a disinterested shrug. “You shouldn’t have let him run lead. I’ve read his report; it’s utter shit.” Then the man narrowed his eyes and gestured vaguely toward his jaw. “First rule of Fight Club?”

  Bryce dipped his head for a moment. “I made a comment about Drew’s tie.” He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Guess he’s having a real shitty day.”

  “Starting to look like a midlife crisis to me.”

  He shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll speak to him. Maybe it’s just this new girl of his. You know, distracting him.”

  Trent lifted his eyebrows and gave another shrug. “Whatever it is, he has to take care of it. That or he’s out. I can’t have my adjusters running around drawing goddamn hearts in their claim files.”

  “He drew hearts?”

  “Figure of speech,” Trent said gruffly and narrowed his eyes at Bryce. “You on your way out too?”

  He snorted. “Too much work. Wanted to grab Drew for a smoke, talk it out. Guess I’m too late.”

  Trent let out a sigh that he could hear all the way across Drew’s office. “That man’s got to get himself together, Bryce.” He gave Drew’s office a fleeting scan and then left.

  A smile crawled onto his face. If Drew wasn’t home yet, it meant he wasn’t planning on going there anytime soon. Fuck knew what Drew did when he wasn’t at home or at work, but maybe there was still a chance for him to put his plan into action.

  He just had to make a quick stop at an ATM.

  * * *

  Drew’s split-level looked different during the day. Brighter. Cheerier. Like it should have a model wearing leggings and high heels, holding a Chihuahua, answering the front door.

  Bryce slowed before he reached it and parked his car on the opposite side of the road, across from Kelly’s house. He couldn’t see Drew’s car — but the man could have parked it in the garage. The car he assumed was Penny’s stood in the drive, though. If his brother had left the office a few minutes be
fore him, then it would be a close call.

  He touched the edges of Drew’s phone through his suit; clumsy, forgetful Drew always made it so easy. And the weight of that phone had drawn a plan into his mind like gravity working on a glacier.

  The phone was cold in his hand — there was a brief spate of sunlight, a few rays spearing through a break in the clouds. But his car was wet from the drive over; the rain would only be letting up tomorrow, from all accounts.

  Drew hadn’t even had the decency to give her an alias; she’d been listed in his phone book as ‘Angel’ and had made two calls to him in the past two days, both last night.

  Wondering where he was.

  Wondering when he would come home.

  She answered on the second ring. “Hey.” Her voice was quiet, tight with expectation.

  “You ready for me, princess?”

  “You going to be here soon?”

  “Five minutes.”

  He put the phone in his pocket and tugged loose his tie. From what his brother had said, the girl hadn’t seen him leave. So, hopefully, that meant she didn’t know what Drew was wearing.

  The rear-view mirror magnified the bruise on his jaw — it didn’t look bad, but she would notice it. Then again, it would be just like Drew to get punched by his brother.

  Bryce grinned and then altered his smile slightly. That was better. He worked his fingers through his hair until he was satisfied and then pushed open the door and glanced down both sides of the street.

  Deserted. Not even a jogging soccer mom in sight.

  Perfect.

  His shoes thudded over the drive. Crunched over grass that had just started to dry. He paused at the front door, hand lifted to knock, and then pushed it open instead.

  Angel knelt in the entry hall, head dropped and hands clasped in her lap. She didn’t look up when he stepped closer. Didn’t even look up when he came to a stop in front of her, putting his shoes in sight of her bowed head.

  “Where are your clothes, Angel?”

  The girl started a bit and shifted her head as if she wanted to look up. “I didn’t think I’d need them.” Her braids slithered over her breasts — she wore one behind each ear, the edges just below her nipples. Tiny pink ribbons had been used to keep them bound.

  “You’re right; you won’t.”

  Bryce reached into his pocket and took out Drew’s phone. It was newer than his — he didn’t give a shit about technology, but his brother did… even if he didn’t know how to work it half the time.

  And then she did look up. And gave him a double-take before she spotted the phone. Then those blue eyes became wide and unblinking. Her pearly pink lips parted.

  “Mr… Sugar?” Confusion shook her voice.

  “Get up, Angel.”

  She did, but slowly, struggling to hide a frown as her eyes darted between him and the cellphone.

  “You’re not—”

  “No. I’m better.” He grinned at her, but it did nothing for the concern on her face. “And I have a proposition for you.”

  She opened her mouth, but he forestalled her.

  “Money. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it? Money?”

  Angel took a step back, but she didn’t run. Didn’t cover herself up. Just stood and watched him like a deer who’d spotted a wolf weaving through the trees.

  He tugged a wad of cash from his suit pocket. Her eyes never left him, but they flickered almost imperceptibly.

  His grin widened when she licked her lips and asked, “How much is that?”

  “Too much, probably.” He cocked his head, sliding the money back. Then he held up Drew’s phone and jiggled it. “And I’ll give you even more, if you let me record it.”

  21

  Cookies & Cream

  Drew was so caught up in his thoughts that he’d already driven past his brother’s car before he recognized it. He slammed on the brakes and stared at the silver BMW Z4 through his rearview mirror. Then he slung a hand over the back of the passenger side seat and reversed back until he was opposite it.

  It was definitely Bryce’s. And it was parked across the road from Kelly’s house.

  Had he…

  He stared at Kelly’s house. He could see no movement through the lace curtains. The gate and front door were both closed.

  A slow, deep anger roiled inside him. Was Bryce going to keep rubbing this in his face? How he’d got the girl? How she’d chosen him over Drew. Again?

  Because they always did, didn’t they? He’d even caught Juliet looking at Bryce after their break up; wistful regret or something very close to it. And he’d been powerless to do anything. Oh, he’d tried. He’d loved her until she became his world.

  And then everything had changed.

  Drew’s lips twisted into a sneer.

  He threw the car into drive and accelerated, parking in front of his brother’s car. The car door almost slammed, but he managed to grab the handle at the last second and bring it to more dignified stop. Then he strode up the road, opening Kelly’s gate, knocking hard on Kelly’s door.

  God, what if they were busy fucking?

  His hand paused, still lifted, and he took a hurried step back. He didn’t want to see flushed faces and disarrayed hair. His shoes thudded down the porch’s wooden stairs.

  “Drew?”

  There was so much caution in that voice. He swung back, taking in Kelly’s dressing gown, her shaggy hair.

  Precisely what he’d been hoping to avoid. “I’m interrupting,” he called back, turning and heading for the gate again.

  “Interrupting what? Drew?”

  He paused, glanced at her over his shoulder. “You’re… alone?” When he turned back to the street, Bryce’s car was still there. He hadn’t imagined it. But if his brother wasn’t at Kelly—

  Drew swung to the side, scanning the exterior of his house from Kelly’s front garden. Was Bryce inside? There was no other explanation for his car standing here.

  Then his eyes fell on Penny’s car, parked in the drive. He’d been so caught up with Bryce’s presence, with thoughts of Juliet and Kelly, he hadn’t even noticed it. He surged forward, shaking his arm when something caught it.

  “Drew? What’s wrong?”

  She was holding onto the sleeve of his suit, her other arm wrapped around her chest.

  “Nothing.” He looked over at his house, but Kelly tugged at his sleeve again.

  “Can I speak to you? It’s important. Please.”

  He inhaled deep. Bryce had to be next door with Angel. But why? Had he been looking for Drew? Had Trent sent him for some reason? Perhaps with a written warning? Or was he here for the Van Der Kloof files? That made more sense; Bryce would have been ready and willing to snap up that case and make it his own. There was blood in the water, and his shark of a twin was circling, circling… circling.

  “Drew?”

  Kelly took a step back when he turned to face her. Crossed both arms over her chest.

  “Of course. Yes. I actually came to—” he gestured at her, flailing for words “—to speak to you. To say…” He trailed off and cleared his throat, nodding when Kelly beckoned him to follow her inside.

  She’d been baking — the house reeked of cookies.

  “Coffee? I just put on a pot.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Sure.”

  “Made some cookies too. Want some?”

  “What? Oh, no thanks.”

  “You don’t like them?”

  “Can’t handle anything sweet right now.”

  He followed her into the kitchen. Piles of cookies of every shape and imaginable flavor filled the counters. Kelly moved a cooling rack away with her elbow and began fixing them each a cup of coffee as Drew stared at the confectionery equivalent of a drunken binge.

  “You… uh… like baking?”

  “Some.” She gave him a tiny smile over her shoulder and waved around the kitchen with a teaspoon. “This isn’t normal thoug
h. But I couldn’t decide what I wanted, so I made whatever I could.”

  “What do you do?” Drew lifted a chocolate-chip cookie, sniffed it, and put it back. There had been a hint of mint in that whiff he’d caught.

  “I’m still trying to decide.” She shrugged, turned, and handed him a cup of coffee. “My ex, he… he had a lot. A lot of money, a lot of girlfriends.” Her smile turned sour. “A lot of issues. Luckily, I only got some of his money in the divorce, none of the other stuff.”

  Drew allowed her a twitch of his lips, took a hesitant sip of the coffee, and nodded. “It’s good, thanks.”

  “Want to sit?” She pulled out a barstool, sliding aside a tray of what looked like shortbread with chocolate on it to make room for her cup.

  “Thanks.” He sat on a stool opposite her, staring through her kitchen into the backyard. Straight at the loveseat where he’d been so convinced she would be his that night. Where she’d made it crystal fucking clear that she was into him.

  He put his coffee cup down. Then pushed it away with his fingertips. Kelly looked up at the sound of ceramic against granite and gripped her cup to her chest. Looking all the world like a guilty child who knew a scolding was coming her way.

  Drew opened his mouth, but she spoke before he could.

  “I thought he was you. He… He pretended to be you. Came to my room and—” She gave her head a violent shake, peering into her cup. “But I knew. And I still—” She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Fucked him?”

  She nodded, swallowed hard enough that he could see her throat move with the effort, and then took a swallow of coffee. Her hand fumbled, found the closest cookie, and held it to her lips as she nibbled at it.

  “I’m not sure why I’m here.”

  Kelly looked up, wide eyed with confusion. “I wanted to explain—”

  “Why? You made your decision.”

  She sat up straight, the hand holding what remained of the cookie falling into her lap. “I thought he was you, Drew. I was waiting for you. You never came back.” And then her eyes flared. “Where were you? I mean, did the thought of being with me send you running back to your… to that girl?”