"Would you like to order the drinks first?" The lady who directed me to the table is still here, now enquiring us.

Well, I think she's asking US eventhough her eyes is directed to L.L.S. But I won't blame her, I too would be sucked in if there’s a man this gorgeous in front of me.

"I'll have an Americano."

Fuck, that's so deep.

The voice I mean. Though that made my mind wondered if there's anything else that would make me think it is deep too.

She finally turns her head towards me when I was still smitten by his voice, "What about you, Miss?"

"Oh. Erm. Just water." I have to play the role of a reserved 19 year old that is needing money hence this sugar baby attempt. I can't be me, the intimidating engineer who yells at contractors like it's a hobby.

"Would you like to order something else?" She's back to LLS after giving me a simple nod to my water request.

"No, that will be all. Thank you." He gives her a smile which she nods and walks away.

Oooooh, this is definitely different than what I had in mind. I thought my sugar daddy is going to be a cold, arrogant guy that I normally read in the romance novels. But this one smiles. At me. Aaaaand the waitress. You know what they say about guys who're nice to the helpers, right?

"I have to be somewhere else in twenty minutes so let's wrap this up before then." He glances at his wrist, perhaps checking the time while he says that to me. The warm, friendly persona he had earlier suddenly disappears, changing into this cold, distant man with flat, business-like tone. 

Twenty minutes? Really? If you know you only have twenty minutes to spare, why won't you reschedule to some other time that will allow us to stay a bit longer? Typical asshole quality. Being selfish, aren't you? Red flag number one.

Oh yes. I'm keeping tab on you. Because you're too good to be true.

"I'd appreciate it if you can arrive on time if we decide to proceed with this arrangement," he looks at me as I quickly take a look at my watch.

Shit. I was forty minutes late.

Excuse me, it's not my fault that I had to spend twenty minutes looking for a parking spot. And I was just trying to be a 19 year old, being a few minutes late and all. The traffic made me go from single-digit minute late to double digit!

"Sorry, I could't find a parking just now," I apologise for it to be my fault. That’s right, owning my mistake.

He wasted forty minutes of his life sitting here waiting for me, it's just not me because the real Sophie Summers is punctual like hell. In fact, that's one of the points I always throw to the contractors who work with me- I'm the client for God sake, why should I be waiting for you when it should be the other way round.

And now, he's the client. So he has the right to warn me about this.

"Next time just use the valet."

"Sure if the money is good." Have I told you I have a habit of back-talking? My parents are the first-hand receiver of this bad trait of mine.

His brows furrow hearing me blurted those words, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. Uhh, is he judging me?

But he should be aware of the fact sugar babies are gold diggers. And here I am, a 19 year old student who's looking for a Daddy. Of course money is a problem for me. How would you expect a student who has student loans to pay for the luxurious valet, duh.

"Is five grand a month good enough for you?"

My eyes grow hearing the nonchalant question. Excuse me? Five grand? A month? Shit, I should have done this during my student years!

But I was so smart I didn't have to worry about money. The company I'm currently working with paid for my tuition fees and monthly allowance besides providing me a job once I graduated. But still, five grand!

"I guess." Shrugging my shoulder, I try my best to play it cool so he won't see my excitement. There's a chance I can get the pay to be higher if I play it cool. Right?

"Good. We will do this for-" he wants to continue but I have to be the rude one and interrupt him anyway, "Can I tell you about my preferences first?"

He grunts, probably annoyed at my interruption. Thankfully, he nods and allows me to speak further.

"I have classes from Monday to Friday, with tight schedule and mountains of assignments. So, erm, can we do this on weekends? Just the weekends." I have my kids from Monday to Friday, can't be a sugar baby when I have my real babies at home, can I? Also, I have a real job from 8 to 5.

I've mentioned this during the meeting with Veronica but I feel the need to highlight this preference again, afraid if he's unaware of it. The last thing I want is a misunderstanding and a law suit because of this.

He still has that rigid, emotionless expression when he asks, "Can you make it if I set the time from 7pm Friday to 7pm Sunday?"

"Yes but every first weekend of the month, I have activities that I signed up for extra curricular." It's actually my weekend with the boys. Every month, I'd get the first weekend, Dean has the rest.

"Okay. But we will only do this for three months."

What do you mean? "After that we stop seeing each other?"


"Oh," the confusion is obvious both from my face and voice, "May I know why?"

"I don't do this more than three months."

Whoaaaaa where did that come from? Arrogant as fuck. 'I don't do this more than three months.' Pffftttt. Red flag number two: arrogant asshole.

So what? You have a different girl every three months? Four girls a year? What number am I? How long have you done this?

But honestly, if I were as good looking as him, able to offer five grand a month to a girl, I'd do the same. Why stick to one when I can have four a year. In fact, I might be worse. Maybe I'll do twelve a year; flavor of the month. Mhmmm, perhaps he prefers 'flavor of the season' hence the four girls a year.

"I seek punctuality so I'll give you a car during this three months."

Punctuality, ouch. Is he trying to criticise me for the forty minutes late? But WHAT? A car? Say whaaaaaat?

"I have my own car." I counter, eventhough I'm dying to accept it. Have I told you about my back-talk habit? And right at this moment, I truly regret back talking him. I bet it's way better than Abby's itchy twenty year old Civic.

He looks at me annoyed, probably not used to his baby saying no. Typical arrogant billionaire romance-novel protagonist.

"I suggest you accept it." The way he says it, well, it's as if it's the final word. Not up for discussion.

So I shut up.

Though I'm rebelling from inside, scribbling Red flag number three in my mind: privileged kid who does not take no as an answer.

"I've read your limits on your profile, we will stay within the limits."

Limits? Yeah I do remember I ticked a lot of boxes. BDSM, definitely a no. Public sex, voyeur, group sex, oh God, the list continues. Let's just say I keep it to vanilla and maybe a little hand-tie and blindfolds. But that's it, nothing kinky.

As if on cue, his phone rings the moment our drinks arrive. He takes a glance at the screen before tapping the red sign; Reject.

I wonder if it's his current sugar baby? There wasn't a contact picture, the number wasn't saved, is it really the sugar baby?

"I need to leave in ten minutes."

I nod and stop sipping on my drink, pushing the straw to the side, "Erm... Can I ask a question?"


"What should I call you? What's your name?"

"Just call me Mr Sinclair."

My eyes narrow at his simple, super-secretive answer. You want me to shout 'Mr Sinclair' when you make me come?

"You know my full name, my age, in fact, an entire file about me but I only get Mr Sinclair?"

"Yes, you only get me."

I unconsciously roll my eyes at his firm answer. I'm this close to hit him with more when he continues, "I pay good money for confidentiality, Miss Grey. I'd like to remain it that way these three months."

Fine, "If you want it that way, sure Mr Sinclair."

The phone rings again but this time he picks it up, "I'll be there in ten." That's all he said before he hung up.

"I need to leave now, see you next Friday?" He stands up, stretching the entire body for my jaw to drop at the realisation that he's too tall for me.

I asked for a six feet sugar daddy, this is not six feet. This is giant-feet! I'm barely reaching his shoulder!

"I hope you accept my proposal, Abigail." And there it is, the warm, friendly smile is back in the chat room.

Butterflies and bees are wildly buzzing in me upon hearing him call my name that way- so deep, so rich, I'd do anything to hear him say it again.

And when he's not saying anything, I can finally focus on every attribute especially when he's standing in his full height. That chestnut brown hair complements his hazel eyes, along with tanned skin as if he spent the winter in somewhere tropical. If it's from a tanning studio, do remind me to ask him where did he get it at.

And please, the way his muscles filling the sleeves of that t-shirt, you just know it's not from the overdo of protein shake and six hours in gym. How would it feel being inside those arms of his?

I wonder do this tall, broad shoulder guy has a tall, broad cock too?

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