Candy King Read online

  “That’s an incredibly pessimistic view on life.” While she hadn’t set out to find love, Simone always believed that it came to people eventually. She’d never met anyone who not only wanted to remain single but didn’t even believe in love. “Don’t you get lonely?”

  “Of course. Horny too.” His gaze ducked down her body with the briefest of flicks, before snapping back to her eyes. It happened so quickly, Simone wondered if she’d imagined it. “That doesn’t mean I need to fall in love with someone. Or get married.”

  “You created millionairesugardaddy.com so you can hook up with men or women—”

  “Women. Mostly.”

  He’s trying to melt my brain. “Mostly women for sex. Because you don’t believe in love.”

  “Yes.”

  God, he looked so proud of that statement that she didn’t know how to respond. This was a bigger story than even she’d realized. “I can’t do this interview.”

  “I’m surprised. You were so keen last night.” He stood up and held out his hand. “I’ll respect your decision.”

  “I can’t do the interview, because this is bigger than an hour-long conversation. The Candy King needs to have a long-form story. If I simply write that you’re anti-love and marriage, too many people are going to brush you off, going to discount everything you say because they won’t believe you’re that selfish.”

  Dylan’s hand fell back to his side. “Wanting to be single isn’t selfish.”

  “I’m not saying that I agree with it, but that’s what people believe. I don’t know about you, but I want people to take what you say seriously. To understand the irony of how many of your clients have found love when they’ve been searching for something that is the complete opposite.”

  Excitement welled inside her, sending her blood racing. This was going to be amazing. All she needed to do was follow Dylan around, get to know what it was about him that not only made him happily single but how that had morphed into love for other people.

  She finally stood, shoving her notebook into her purse as she did. “Okay, so I’m going to start today if that’s okay. I’ll just shadow you, get to know the type of man you are during the day, and then see the contrast to the man who runs the site. It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks, a month at most. I mean, I won’t be with you all the time. I’ll go back and forth between my job and yours and all that. But it will be great. And I don’t know if I’ll even have to give your real name at this point, because the interview is like way more than that now. This is going to be awesome.”

  “No.”

  Simone was ready for this. “I can sign whatever NDAs you need me to, and I’ll even offer my services where I can. I mean, I can answer phones and do some ad copy if you want. That was one of my summer jobs to pay for college. Seriously, it’s going to be great!”

  “No.”

  The earlier spark of amusement that had shone in his eyes was gone. The rich brown that had given her warm fuzzies before now chilled her. Simone swallowed, her body instantly tensed. “Really?”

  “I know you must feel betrayed or misled, which wasn’t my intention. When you reached out to me on the site, I thought we were simply going to have a good time with some online flirting. I never asked for this. I can’t have a reporter following me, inserted into my life while I work. I won’t have you digging up bits and pieces of my background to help propel you in your career. I won’t risk everything that I’ve built just for your story.”

  A thousand arguments flashed through her mind as to why he should let her do this. One look at him and she knew none of them would work. None of them would be able to put him at ease because at the end of the day, she was a reporter, and she’d follow the story where it led. Even if—especially if—that was to a place Dylan wouldn’t like.

  She wouldn’t sit here and lie to him and tell him that she wouldn’t follow her instincts with this. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know him well; she wouldn’t mislead anyone. Even if it wasn’t her intention to cause him problems, sometimes things happened.

  Moving the purse strap away from the dip of her cleavage, where it had fallen, Simone tried to hide her disappointment. “Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time.” Turning, she strode to the door with as much pride as she could muster. “Thank you, Mr. Williams.”

  “Dylan.”

  She stopped and looked back at him, surprised when he looked disappointed. “Dylan.”

  Then she left.

  * * * *

  Dylan didn’t know if he wanted to punch the wall or chase after her. Neither option was ideal, so instead, he moved to his desk and turned his computer on. It didn’t take long to let the tide of work wash over him, to drown out the momentary blip of fun and attraction he’d felt for Simone. Her excitement at wanting to do a story on him and the site was intoxicating, to the point where he almost forgot what was at stake if her little exposé went public.

  If anyone knew he was the Candy King, it would make his life hell.

  His office door pushed open, and his father marched in as though an army was fast on his heels. “We have a problem.”

  “When do we not have a problem?” The truth of the matter was they’d been in a good place for a long time. He couldn’t imagine what was wrong. “Business or personal?”

  “Yes.” Dad strode up to his desk and leaned both hands on it to look down at him. “With your brother getting married, we’ve had renewed interest in the company from a community perspective.”

  “Fine.” The Williamses were one of the more prominent families in Toronto, so that in itself wasn’t all that surprising. But from the look on his dad’s face, he could tell there was more to the story than that. “What’s the issue?”

  “I’ve gotten a sneak peek at the latest quarterly results. We’re not going to hit our target.”

  Dylan was on his feet in a flash. “What? Since when was that even in question? We just hit the forty percent sales mark for the downtown condo building. We should be well in the black.”

  “We will be. Next quarter.” Dad moved to sit down on one of the chairs and closed his eyes.

  “What the hell’s going on? I saw our last financial report, and everything was well on track.” Dylan was about to ask again when he the realization hit him. “It was Jonathan. What did he do?”

  “Apparently, he made an executive decision to support a community housing project that Sarah put him on. A pet project of hers that has something to do with a Buddhist temple housing complex that will be used to help people with mental disorders. Noble, but not something the company budgeted for. And certainly not something your brother is able to manage.”

  A wave of exhaustion hit him hard enough to force Dylan back down to his seat. “What do I need to do?”

  Because at the end of the day, he was always the one who had to step in and make sure the projects got done on time and under budget. He was the one who had to ensure that the family image was sparkling so no future plans would be tainted. Dylan was the glue that kept everything together while everyone else went out and lived their lives.

  It was one of the reasons he’d started the website, why he’d used the persona of Candy King in the first place. There he could be anything he wanted, do anything he wanted for himself. That was the main reason he hadn’t wanted Simone to do a piece on the site. He tried to keep that part of his life secret, not because he was embarrassed, but because he didn’t want to share it with anyone else.

  Jonathan or even his father would find out and want to use it for their own purposes. Not to mention the potential damage to the family business. No, the sugar daddy site was his alone, and he’d do anything to make sure it stayed that way.

  Even if it meant continuing to stretch himself thin.

  “I�
��ll talk to Jonathan and see what he’s committed to. I’ll run the numbers and make sure the budget and timelines work.”

  “A Buddhist housing complex?” Dad snorted. “It won’t fill up, and we’ll end up taking a bath.”

  “We just need to make sure that the community is made aware of options that are available to them. Hell, this might end up not only raising the profile of Williams Development but be a great resource for Toronto.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about how to spin this.”

  Neither did Dylan, not precisely. But he knew of a particular blond local reporter who would be perfect to help them get the word out. “Leave it with me. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Fate had a horrible sense of humor. Dylan pulled out Simone’s business card, which he’d tucked into his pocket the night before. It seemed she was going to get her interview after all, just not the one she’d hoped for.

  “I need to make a call.”

  Chapter 8

  As Simone walked down the street to the office, she had to focus her attention on not running into random strangers. From the moment she’d slid out of bed this morning, her brain was otherwise occupied—with her dual problems of Dylan and what the hell she was going to tell her boss.

  She’d run through multiple scenarios about how to tell Carl about her massive failure as she’d been lying in bed that morning. Flowers? He was allergic. Food? While usually a safe bet, he’d joined Weight Watchers a few months ago, and she didn’t have a clue about the points for his favorite foods. She’d no doubt screw that up too because that was her life these days.

  What she didn’t want was to have to walk into his office empty-handed and inform him that yes, he was entirely correct about her ability to pull in and deliver a big story.

  But that was precisely what she was going to have to do.

  She’d played yesterday over and over in her mind, trying to figure out if there was something different she could have done. She’d expected Dylan to be flirty in person the way he’d been with her online. And yes, his physical presence did things to her that she hadn’t anticipated; there was no mistaking the mental and emotional wall he’d thrown up between them the moment she’d announced who she was outside of the restaurant. Except for a brief moment in the limo when she’d gotten a hint of the man behind the mask, she felt as though she knew less about him now than she had before she’d tracked him down.

  Which was more than a little fucked up.

  Something had happened to Dylan Williams that had caused him to shut himself off from forming deep personal relationships. She’d been friends with Kayla through her divorce, so she knew what a broken heart looked like. This was something more, something deeper, a wound he’d had so long that he might not even be aware that it still festered.

  Not that any of this mattered, because he’d made it clear there was no way he would talk to her again.

  Her office building was just ahead, which meant there was not a lot of time before she had to face the music. So, of course, she ducked into Starbucks and got in line. While she might not be able to bribe Carl into going easy on her, she could at least buy herself a mocha latte to boost her spirits.

  Her phone rested heavy in her pocket rather than in her purse. She’d slipped it there so she could feel and hear the vibrations in case she got any notifications. Not that she anticipated Dylan reaching out to her through the app, but there was a small part of her that was still hopeful he might.

  Shit, everything had been going so well until she’d tracked him down. She hadn’t realized how much fun she’d been having talking to him, being silly, not having to worry about trying to impress him. They were just two people with nothing to lose and everything to gain texting on the Internet.

  She missed talking to him.

  Over the past few weeks, they’d chatted and teased back and forth throughout the day, from the moment she woke up to just before she went to bed. They weren’t long or serious conversations, sometimes not even conversations at all. Quips, jokes, teasing. It couldn’t have gone anywhere, not really. She was a reporter working on a story, and he was the subject. All of their interactions up to the point where she’d revealed who and what she was were tainted by that omission. She didn’t blame him for pulling away.

  But she did wish there was a way she could start over.

  Simone’s hand slipped into her pocket as she moved forward in line. What would he do if she texted him? Would he delete it, and before or after he read it? Or would he have blocked her by now? Did she even have the right to talk to him any longer, seeing as the entire basis of their communication was based on a lie?

  What would happen if she sent him a note right now?

  “Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get started for you?”

  Simone blinked at the young woman behind the counter before smiling. “Ah, hi. Can I get a grande mocha latte?”

  “Anything else? Something to eat?”

  I’d love to have a bite of Dylan. “Nope, I’m good.”

  “Your name?”

  For the briefest of moments, she almost said Sugar Tart. “Simone.”

  Moving to the side to wait for her drink, she looked down at her phone, now out of her pocket with its screen on. There was no message indicator for the sugar daddy app, which meant that Dylan hadn’t mysteriously changed his mind. If anything was going to happen, it would be on her to reach out. At the very least, she should probably apologize for having tracked him down when he wasn’t interested in meeting her.

  Right? That was a thing she should do.

  Looking around to make sure no one was reading over her shoulder, Simone opened the app and their message thread, and began typing.

  Hey. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for having come at you the way I did. You’d been clear in needing time, and I didn’t honor that request. But I’m not sorry that we were able to meet. I—

  She paused, not knowing how to accurately express how she felt. It wasn’t on him to make her happy, to be her friend—online or otherwise—or to worry about her emotional state. Dylan was a man who’d been up front in his expectations. He didn’t want or need a relationship. He used his own program to arrange a sexual contact with women when he wanted to. And that was it. Even if that scenario broke her heart a little bit, that was on her, not him.

  With a quick glance to see if her drink was ready, she fired off the rest of the message without overthinking it.

  I miss our talks. I miss flirting with you, even if nothing was going to come from it. I miss feeling desirable. You made me feel that, and I want to thank you. It was fun while it lasted. And I want to let you know that this will be the last time you’ll hear from me.

  Be well, Candy King.

  ST

  “Grande mocha latte for Simone.”

  She shoved her phone deep into her purse, grabbed her drink, and bolted for work. She didn’t have time to worry about Dylan any longer, not when she had to tell Carl that she’d failed and was going to need another assignment. Following the crowd, she stepped into the elevator and mentally prepared for the crap she was about to face.

  Okay. I can totally do this.

  Taking a sip, she mentally braced herself as the elevator announced her floor and the doors slid open. She’d gotten three steps before Mark came striding out to the lobby, his blue eyes wide and wild. The second his gaze landed on her, his finger came up, and he wordlessly pointed at her.

  “Mark…hi?” Sure, they might not get along on a personal level, but professionally they were always civil. She slowed her approach, suddenly concerned that she was about to get fired. Or worse. “What’s going on?”

  “Carl needs to see you.” Mark’s face flushed red, and the muscles in the side of his jaw jumped as he snapped his mouth shut.

  “Am I in trouble?” There was no way Carl could have known about her f
ailure yet, and the last story she’d been on had already gone to print. “Is the paper in trouble?”

  “Just go see him.” He then spun around and marched back to his office.

  Simone looked over at the intern—Monica, who was operating the front desk—and frowned. “Do you know what’s going on?”

  Monica shrugged. “I just got here five minutes ago.”

  Well, shit. “I guess I better go see Carl.”

  Simone was more intrigued than scared now, especially after Mark’s reaction. If nothing else, it would serve as a temporary distraction before she’d have to tell him the bad news. With her latte in one hand and her other hand grasping her still-stained purse, she strode to Carl’s office.

  The sound of voices rumbled through the half-closed door as she approached. Carl’s was obvious, and the other was familiar, even though she couldn’t quite place it. Had her brain been working at full force, she wouldn’t have been quite so shocked when she knocked on the door and stepped in.

  Dylan stood to the side of the office, his arms crossed and his attention focused on a physical newspaper that Carl was showing him. “Ah, hi.”

  The second he looked up and their gazes met, a shot of lust pulsed through Simone’s body. It was the same reaction she’d had when she’d first laid eyes on him outside the restaurant, a reaction at how overtly sexual this man was. It wasn’t merely his looks either. There was a presence to him that exuded confidence and an aura that blinded her to nearly everything else.

  Her mouth opened, and she was about to say something when she noticed that he had his phone in his hand. She didn’t need to be able to see the screen to know that he’d just read her message. There was a look in his eyes, something possessive and primal, and it was directed toward her.

  She sucked in a breath through her nose as she looked from his phone to his eyes. He cocked an eyebrow as he put the phone back into his pocket.

  Okay, so that’s a future conversation she hadn’t anticipated having.