SUGAR DADDY

The address Julian’s assistant had sent me led to a penthouse apartment that practically scraped the sky. Stepping out of the taxi, I felt a familiar prickle of anxiety. This was it. The point of no return. I was about to walk into the lion’s den, armed with nothing but my wit and a hefty dose of self-loathing.

The lobby was all polished chrome and hushed whispers. The doorman, a man who looked like he’d been carved from granite, eyed me with suspicion before reluctantly buzzing me up.

The elevator doors opened directly into the apartment. And what an apartment it was. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, spread out like a glittering carpet at my feet. The furniture looked like it belonged in a museum, all sharp angles and minimalist design. It was breathtaking, and utterly sterile.

He was standing by the window, a glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand. He turned as I entered, and all coherent thoughts momentarily fled. He was even more devastatingly handsome up close. The same sculpted features as the photos, the same intense gaze, but… different. There was a lightness in his eyes, a playful smirk dancing on his lips that I hadn't anticipated.

"Liam. Come in, come in." His voice was warm, almost… jovial? It was a far cry from the cold, calculating tone I'd been expecting.

"Mr. Devonport," I managed, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Thank you for having me."

"Please," he gestured to a plush, white sofa. "Call me Julian. And thank you for coming. I was beginning to think he was exaggerating your… charms." He winked.

I blinked. Had I walked into the wrong apartment? Was this some elaborate prank? The Julian Davenport I’d researched, the one I've met a few times, the one Clara was engaged to, was a ruthless businessman, a man who built empires and crushed competitors without a second thought. This felt… wrong.

He chuckled, as if reading my mind. "Don't look so surprised, Liam. I assure you, you're safe within these walls." He took a sip of his drink. "Although, I can see how you might be…disoriented."

I decided to roll with it. Maybe this was just his way of easing tension. "Disoriented is one word for it," I said, leaning back on the sofa. "I was expecting… well, something a little more… intimidating."

He laughed, a genuine, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Intimidation is for boardrooms and hostile takeovers, darling. Not private rendezvous."

"Rendezvous?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

“Unless you have a better word for a charming young man visiting a bored, wealthy CEO with nothing but mischief on his mind.” He strolled closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you, Liam?”

My carefully constructed plan was starting to unravel faster than I could keep up. This wasn’t going the way I expected at all. Where was the icy disdain? The power plays? Instead, I was getting… flirtation. Open, blatant flirtation.

“So,” he said, settling back onto the arm of the sofa, close enough that I could smell his cologne – something expensive and intoxicating. “Tell me about yourself, Liam. What are your dreams? Your aspirations? What makes you… tick?”

I scoffed. “You want to know about my dreams? I dream of escaping this city, escaping my family, escaping… myself.”

He seemed genuinely intrigued. “Intriguing. But escaping isn’t always the answer, Liam. Sometimes, it’s about finding pleasure in the present.”

He gestured to the bar, and I walked over, my pulse quickening. "What are you having?" I asked, as he topped up his glass.

"Whiskey. Neat. But for you… I think something a little sweeter is in order. How about a French 75?"

He didn’t wait for my answer before expertly mixing the cocktail, the clinking of glass and ice filling the silence. He handed it to me, the flute cool against my fingertips. "To new beginnings," he said, raising his own glass.

I took a sip. It was bubbly, tart, and surprisingly potent. Like him, I thought. "To new beginnings," I echoed, meeting his gaze. He held my eye contact for a beat too long, and I had to fight the urge to look away.

He leaned forward, and for a heart stopping moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, then, he pulled away, smiling to himself.

So," he said then, leaning back against the bar, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "You're… bored."

"Bored" is one word for it. Let's say… understimulated."

He laughed again, and this time, the sound felt less predatory, more… genuine. “Understimulated. I like that. Tell me, Liam, what would stimulate you?”

My carefully constructed plan of subtle seduction suddenly felt inadequate. He was cutting straight to the chase. Well, alright then. Time to improvise. “I don’t know,” I said, feigning innocence. “I guess that depends on what you have to offer.”

His eyes darkened, and he pushed himself off the bar, closing the distance between us. He reached out, his fingers lightly tracing the line of my jaw. "I have quite a lot to offer, Liam. The question is, are you willing to play my game?"

The directness of his approach was both shocking and exhilarating. Was I ready for this? Hell yes, I was.

“What kind of game are we talking about?” I asked, my voice a little breathless.

He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over me, assessing. "Let's just say… a mutually beneficial arrangement. I'm a busy man, Liam. Stressed. I need… a distraction. Someone to ease the pressure."

He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "In return," he continued, "I can provide… certain luxuries. Things you might not otherwise have access to.”

"So," he clapped his hands together. "Shall we move onto the important beginning?" He gestured towards a door leading to what looked like a walk-in closet the size of my entire bedroom back home. "Go on, have a look. Pick something out."

I hesitated. "Pick something out? Like… what?"

"Anything you want," he said with a shrug. "A watch, a jacket, a pair of shoes. Consider it a… token of my appreciation."

I walked into the closet, my jaw practically on the floor. Rows upon rows of designer clothes, gleaming watches, and ridiculously expensive shoes stretched out before me. It was a veritable treasure trove of luxury.

"Are you serious?" I asked, turning back to him.

"Deadly serious," he said, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Think of it as… compensation. For your time. Your company."

I spent a good few minutes just browsing, my fingers tracing the soft leather of a bomber jacket, the cool metal of a Rolex. It was obscene, really. Displaying this much wealth. But also… undeniably tempting.

Finally, I settled on a pair of sleek, black Chelsea boots. They were understated, elegant, and something I could actually see myself wearing without feeling like a complete fraud.

"Good choice," he said, nodding approvingly as I held them up. "Classic. Timeless. Just like you, Liam."

He then led me to the living room. I saw that there were variety of shopping bags that were just brought in, I think.

"I actually prepared some gifts for you, Liam, I hope you'd like it!" He beamed.

I bit the insides of my cheeks. What the hell is happening?!

He handed me bag after bag of what seemed to be expensive clothes and accessories. I don't know why I deserve any of this. I don't know what to say!

"Is this.. real?"

He smiled as he cupped my cheeks. "Of course, it is, Liam. Do you like them? I have another surprise!"

I gaped at him as he pulled out a small box from his pocket. The box was something that I usually saw in jewellery shops. Of course, it must be expensive, too. He opened it, and there was a Rolex watch. Like what I saw in the closet just now. He held my left arm as he wore it on my wrist.

"There, you see? You deserve it, Liam." He said tenderly.

I had enough of this. This wasn't like the Julian I knew. Is he on drugs?.

“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get something straight. What exactly is this?”

"Call it whatever you like." He winked at me. "A transaction? An arrangement? A… sugar baby situation?"

My eyes widened. "Sugar baby? You mean… you want me to be your… sugar baby?"

He chuckled. "Is that so hard to believe? You're attractive, witty, and clearly in need of… certain comforts. I'm wealthy, bored, and in need of… certain diversions. It seems like a perfect match, wouldn't you say?"

I stared at him, speechless. This was escalating so quickly. Just a few hours ago, I was plotting revenge. Now, I was being offered a life of luxury, in exchange for… what, exactly?

“What are the… terms?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He turned serious, his eyes hardening slightly. "Simple. No calling. Texting is allowed only when it's necessary. No showing up unannounced. No asking about my personal life. Our time together is for pleasure, for distraction. You ease my stress, and I ease your… financial burdens. And," he added, his voice dropping an octave, "absolutely no dating other people. I want your undivided attention. I don't share."

The possessiveness in his tone sent another shiver down my spine. This was dangerous. Intoxicatingly so.

"So, you want me to be your… exclusive stress relief outlet?" I asked, testing the waters.

"Precisely," he said, stepping closer again. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. "Think of it as a business arrangement. You provide pleasure, I provide… rewards. Everyone wins.”

"So, what do you say, Liam?" He stepped closer, his gaze intense. "Do we have a deal?" 

My mind was racing. This was insane. This was reckless. This was exactly what I wanted, but also… terrifying.

I swallowed hard. "Deal."

He smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. "Excellent. Now, about that stress relief…"

He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw, and this time, I didn't pull away. My heart pounded against my ribs as he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine…and then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was surprisingly soft, sensual. Not the demanding, possessive kiss I’d expected from Julian Davenport, but something… gentler. More exploratory. His tongue traced my lower lip, and I opened my mouth, inviting him in.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My carefully laid plans were crumbling, replaced by a dizzying rush of adrenaline and desire. This wasn't just about revenge anymore. This was about… something else. Something I couldn't quite define.

When he finally pulled away, I was breathless, disoriented. He was smiling, a genuine, almost boyish smile that transformed his face.

He pulled out a platinum credit card and handed it to me. "The sky's the limit,” he said. "Now, go shopping. Buy something outrageous. Surprise me."

He winked, then turned and walked back to the bar, leaving me standing there, reeling. 

“She'll escort you out.” He stated as a woman in black approached, her eyes cool and professional.

"Shall we, Mr. Moreau?"

I followed her out of the apartment, my head spinning. What the hell had just happened? Had I just become a sugar baby? And more importantly... Why did it feel so damn good?