His Sugar Baby(81)

Michael leaned back in his office chair, rereading the texts, before he carefully saved them. For a long time, he looked out his office window at the sunlit day. The corners of his mouth curled up in a barely-there smile. At last, he blew a soft regretful sigh and put away his cell phone. With renewed determination, he turned his attention back to his work. It was enough.

It had to be enough.

Within days of his final expenditures on Chloe Somerset’s behalf, Darryl barreled into his office. Michael looked up from the papers in front of him. He noticed the grim set of his business partner’s expression. Michael eased back in his chair. He thought he could probably guess what had put that look on Darryl’s face.

Darryl snapped the door shut behind him before he spoke. His normally rich velvet voice was clipped. “I just heard from our accountant that you liquefied a chunk of your assets. What the hell are you doing?”

“I thought our personal financials were confidential,” Michael commented mildly. He wasn’t at all surprised that the accountant had gone to Darryl. Their accountant was caution personified, and the kind of transactions that Michael had been implementing, without adequate explanation, would naturally be of considerable concern to the conscientious man.

“They are, normally. But this isn’t normal. Larry thinks you’ve either gone off the deep end or developed a gambling addiction. He informed me, instead of the board of trustees, because he knows we’re tight.” Darryl advanced until he could flatten his hands on the desk. He leaned in, his weight balanced on his braced arms. His eyes held frowning concern. “Mike. Are you in some kind of financial trouble? If you are, just say the word. I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Did I tell you that Morgan and I are getting a divorce?”

Darryl pushed off from the desk, his expression changing to a scowl. “Is that what this is about? Is Morgan trying to bleed you?”

“No. Our negotiations are surprisingly civil.” Michael sighed. He had debated about taking anyone, even Darryl, into his confidence. He had been reluctant because he felt what he had done was a very private matter. However, since their accountant had run squealing to his business partner, he decided that he might as well tell him. Darryl would give him no peace until he was satisfied.

Michael got up and walked around the desk. He reached up and briefly squeezed his friend’s solid shoulder. “I know you’ve got my back. I appreciate it.” He let go and seated himself on the corner of the desk. “But I’ve already done everything that can be done.”

Darryl lowered his brows in a heavy frown, the trouble deepening in his expression. “What is it, Mike? Just tell me what you’re up against.”

“Do you remember that I was seeing someone?”

“Yeah.” Darryl nodded. His brows were puckered in a frown. “The single mother? Yeah, I remember. What about her?”

Michael scrubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension. “Well, her daughter had leukemia. For almost three years. The little girl just turned eight years old.”

“Damn, Mike. I’m sorry.” Darryl radiated sincere sympathy. The timbre of his voice dropped. “How is your woman holding up?”

Michael didn’t immediately correct Darryl’s misassumption. “She’s a strong lady. Her daughter is her whole life. The insurance played out a long time ago so she is practically drowning under the medical bills. I…wanted to help her out.”

“So that’s why…” Darryl caught on swiftly. “And why you didn’t give Larry any real explanation. You didn’t want any talk going around that might turn out awkward for her.”

Michael nodded. Beyond his desire to make Catherine’s life easier, he had hoped that his efforts would begin to build a bridge between them. That hadn’t happened. He swallowed over the constriction in his throat. It cost him to say it, because it made it all the more real, but he forced it out. “And she’s not my woman any more. She never will be. I blew it.”

Darryl carefully looked him over. Slowly, he shook his head. He reached out to put a painful squeeze on Michael’s shoulder. His voice was laced with heavy sympathy. “Welcome back to the human race, Mike.”

Michael grimaced down at the carpet. “Thanks. It hurts like hell.” Then he looked up and, very deliberately, edged into his cold-bastard smile. “I do need a favor from you, though. I need you to watch my back this evening while I pay a visit to an office supply store.”

Darryl narrowed his eyes, staring at him for a long, long moment. “Okay, Mike. What do you want?”

In a few terse sentences, Michael explained.





The sun was hanging just above the horizon when he stepped out of the shadows. The warmth of his breath puffed white on the cold air. “Rick Stein?”

The manager of the office supply had just finished locking up. He turned from the glass door, peering uncertainly at the stranger. The man was only a silhouette against the dying sun. He fumbled with putting his keys into his coat pocket. “Yeah, that’s me. Who’s asking?”

“Not a friend.” Michael stepped closer, emerging out of the shadows. He curled his lips into his cold-bastard’s smile. Deliberately, he raised his fists. “This is for Winter.”

The man’s eyes widened fractionally. He threw up defensive hands, backpedaling. “You’ve got the wrong guy! I don’t know any—”