The grand Bellmaré lobby buzzed with conversation, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses weaving together in a symphony of exclusivity. The chandeliers above cast a soft glow, highlighting the polished marble floors and towering columns that spoke of wealth and history.

  CeCe had her eyes scanning the room with practiced ease she slipped through the crowd, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor.

  As she passed by the dimly lit bar, the hum of conversation was just loud enough to keep things feeling lively without losing the intimacy of the space. The scent of expensive cologne mixed with the faint tang of alcohol settling into the air like a promise of temptation.

  Her eyes landed on a waiter balancing a tray of cocktails in fancy, delicate glasses. The dim glow of the bar caught on the crystal, making the liquid inside gleam like gold.

  CeCe plucked one off the tray, feeling delightfully indulgent. This was probably some rare, expensive drink she’d never get to taste again. Might as well enjoy it.

  She took a sip.

  Then immediately choked.

  What the hell was this? It burned like gasoline mixed with regret.

  She coughed into her fist, eyes watering, struggling to maintain dignity while questioning why rich people paid so much for something that tasted so awful.

  A smooth voice spoke beside her, the low timbre cutting through the lively hum of conversation.

  “Not a fan?”

  CeCe swallowed down the burn and turned only to find Philip standing there, watching her with mild amusement.

  Oh.

  So he was here.

  And he came to her.

  He didn’t want me to be too tired searching for him so he approached me instead!

  Delulu thoughts aside, CeCe forced herself to maintain, or at least what she believed to be, an air of composed elegance.

  She tilted her head, lips curling into a smirk. “Mr. Garcia, we have to stop meeting like this. People will start talking.”

  Philip didn’t even blink. “You mean you have to stop following me?”

  Rude.

  She let out a small, amused scoff, swirling the drink in her hand as if she actually intended to finish it. “Coincidences happen.”

  Philip exhaled, long-suffering, but not entirely annoyed. He took a slow sip of whiskey, his gaze steady like he was waiting for whatever disaster she’d cause next.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” His hazel eyes flickered with knowing amusement.

  CeCe smiled, playing innocent. “I have an invitation.”

  “Mm.”

  She froze. Okay, he was too sharp.

  “Would you signal security on me?”

  Philip’s chuckle was quiet and almost indulgent as he set his glass down on the bar beside him. Then without breaking eye contact, he leaned in slightly, not close enough to touch, but close enough to make CeCe hyper-aware of him.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You tell me,” he murmured in a smooth and teasing voice. ”Should I?”

  The way he said it made her pulse jump. CeCe refused to step back, instead she tilt her chin up like she had nothing to hide.

  “You wouldn’t.” She said, flashing him her most confident smirk. “You’d miss me.”

  Philip exhaled through his nose, a mix of amusement and something unreadable in his gaze. He picked up his whiskey again, swirling the amber liquid lazily.

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” CeCe placed her drink on the bar, sliding just a fraction closer. If he was going to play, she was going to win. “Why else would you come to me first?”

  Philip didn’t respond immediately. His fingers tapped against his glass, eyes sharp as if studying her. Then, finally, he smirked. Small, effortless and unreadable.

  “Hm.”

  It wasn’t agreement. It wasn’t denial.

  It was Philip Garcia, letting her think whatever she wanted.

  CeCe studied Philip’s smirk, her mind racing. That tiny, unreadable curve of his lips— it was infuriating. Infuriatingly exciting!

  But she wanted a reaction, a proof that he was just as caught up in this as she was.

  Fine. She’d get one.

  “You know, Mr. Garcia,” she began, voice light and teasing. “If you were so curious about me, you could’ve just asked instead of approaching me like some secret admirer.”

  Philip lifted a brow. “Curious?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She swirled her glass, still refusing to drink more of it. Then she shot him a knowing smile. “You don’t have to play it cool. I get it. You’re intrigued by me.”

  Philip hummed, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. “Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out what exactly it is that you want.”

  CeCe’s fingers tensed slightly around her glass. She knew what he was doing. He was drawing her in, subtly pushing and waiting for her to reveal herself.

  She could play that game.

  “What if I told you I already got what I wanted?”

  Philip tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he was close to solving. “And what’s that?”

  CeCe leaned in, just enough for the scent of her perfume to linger between them. Her voice dropped to a silky whisper, half-serious, half-teasing.

  “You.”

  Philip didn’t react. His gaze stayed locked onto hers, unreadable and unmoving. Then he slowly, deliberately, set his glass down.

  “Is that so?”

  CeCe took his response as permission. She straightened, confidence surging with her lips curling into a smirk.

  “I’ve decided.” She tapped a manicured nail against her glass, as if sealing a deal. “You, Mr. Garcia, are going to be my sugar daddy.”

  Philip exhaled, slow and measured, but something flickered in his gaze. Something knowing, amused and expectant.

  It’s as if he’d been waiting for her to finally say it.

  “Is that right?” His voice was calm, teasing yet utterly unreadable.

  “Yes!” CeCe declared, full of bravado. “I’m beautiful, charming and you clearly don’t hate having me around. It’s a perfect arrangement.”

  Philip picked up his whiskey again, gaze steady as he took another sip. “That’s quite a proposition.”

  CeCe grinned. “So? What do you say?”

  Philip didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he simply looked at her, hazel eyes catching the light, unreadable as ever.

  “A perfect arrangement, huh?” He murmured, as if considering it.

  CeCe nodded, brimming with confidence. “You won’t regret it.”

  Philip swirled the last of his whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. Then in that same smooth and decisive tone, he said—

  “Celeste.”

  She blinked. Are they on a first-name basis now? A small thrill ran through her but she quickly masked it with a cool smile.

  “I don’t need a sugar baby.” His voice was steady, polite and completely nonchalant. “And you… don’t need a sugar daddy.”

  CeCe tilted her head, lips parting. For a brief second, she almost processed what he was saying.

  Almost.

  Did he just say I don’t need a sugar daddy? Not I don’t want you or Get lost, but I don’t need one?

  Oh. Oh.

  He wasn’t rejecting her, he was thinking highly of her. That’s what this was!

  Philip wasn’t saying she couldn’t be his sugar baby. He was just setting the bar higher. He saw potential. He wasn’t the type to hand things out easily, he wanted effort and commitment!

  Then, with all the confidence in the world, she laughed. “Philip, if you wanted me to work for it, you could’ve just said so.”

  Philip exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching half in amusement and half in resignation. He knew she wasn’t listening. She was already spinning his words into whatever reality suited her.

  So he didn’t argue.

  Instead, he finished his drink, the last drop of whiskey slipping down smoothly. Without a word, he set the glass down and stood, his expression unreadable.

  “It’s late.” His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “I’ll take you home.”

  CeCe blinked. Then, slowly, a delighted grin spread across her face.

  Oh. Oh, he’s taking me home.

  She barely held in her giggle. This was why she liked him. He could say whatever he wanted, act as distant as he pleased but in the end he still couldn’t help but take care of her.

  Philip glanced at her, catching the look on her face and let out a breath.

  Of course.

  He didn’t say another word, he just gave her a long, unreadable stare before turning toward the exit.

  CeCe eagerly followed, heart racing.