“Don’t you forget, you’re still my sugar baby,” I said, smirking as I ran a finger down his chest. He caught my wrist, his jaw tight. “I never forget pain. Now let go.
”
“Make me. ”
That was the moment Peter Wilson, my contract husband, decided to grab me in front of half of New York’s elite. And that was the moment a stranger stepped in, cool as ice. “Didn’t you hear her?
The lady said no. ”
Peter sputtered. “This is between me and my wife. ”
“Your wife?
” The stranger laughed, low and dangerous. “You’re lucky she still lets you breathe the same air. ”
I didn’t know who he was then. I just knew that when his eyes met mine, something in my chest twisted.
Later, at the gala, I heard the whispers. Adam Hartford. The richest man in the country. The man every woman wanted and every man wanted to be.
I laughed to myself. Funny. He looked exactly like the man I’d been paying to be my sugar baby for a year. I’d met “Adam” at a bar six months into my miserable arranged marriage to Peter.
My father had died, and his will forced me into marrying Peter Wilson to inherit anything at all. My father thought Peter was the best man for me. He was wrong. Within a month, I caught Peter with Amy, his pregnant mistress, who had the nerve to call me “just the contract wife.
”
So, I took my revenge in secret. I found a boy—gorgeous, broke, and shameless—and I paid him to be my sugar baby. It was the one thing that was all mine: my little rebellion, my secret thrill. I never asked about his life.
He never asked about mine. We just had fun, until the night he told me it was over. “I’m getting married,” he’d said, back in that hotel room that smelled like his cologne and my regret. “Take the million, Catherine, and live a happy life without me.
”
A million dollars. He paid me a million dollars to dump me. And then he said his name, and I realized who he really was. The richest man in the country had been my sugar baby for a year.
And he’d been playing me the entire time. I stormed out. But Adam Hartford wasn’t done. The next day, he blacklisted the Wilson Corporation.
My father-in-law, William, came to me, confused and desperate. He was the only Wilson who had ever been kind to me. When my family went bankrupt, he helped me rebuild. I couldn’t watch his life’s work crumble because of a game between me and Adam.
So I went to Adam’s penthouse and offered him the only thing he wanted: me. “If it’ll save the Wilson company, I’ll do whatever you want,” I said, hating every word. He made me strip in his living room, in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows. I did.
I hated him for it. But William was safe, and that was worth my pride. “I’ll resume the investments,” Adam said afterward, buttoning his shirt. “You owe me a thank you.
”
“Hope we never see each other again,” I spat. He smiled. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other again. ”
He was right.
I worked as a journalist at a fashion magazine. A new girl, Amy—Peter’s pregnant mistress—was hired and stole my cover story. Her exclusive? An interview with Adam Hartford.
She made a deal with me: if I could get the interview, I kept my job. If I failed, I left the company. I had to see him again. I found him at a golf club.
He didn’t seem surprised to see me. “Came here to see me? ” he asked, not looking up from his club. “I need an interview,” I said.
“You humiliated me once. We’re done. But I need this. ”
He laughed.
“You want me to return the favor? The same thing I gave you in bed? ”
I burned at that. “You owe me.
”
He agreed, but only if I met him at the club at 8 a. m. the next morning. When I arrived, the front desk stopped me.
“Only members’ women are allowed. ”
Adam’s voice came through the phone. “Tell them you’re Mr. Hartford’s woman.
”
I didn’t. Instead, I bought a membership. I walked past him and sat down. “Being a member is better than being your property.
”
He looked at me, actually impressed. “You really do have a few tricks. ”
The interview itself was chaos. He answered everything, flirting with me the whole time, telling the camera his ideal woman was tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed, and proud.
Everyone in the studio looked at me. He laughed. “Maybe you’re my type. Just kidding.
”
But when the lights were off, he pinned me against the wall. “I’ve seen your wild side. You’re exactly my type. ”
I slapped him away.
I wasn’t going to be his game. Then the footage went missing. My boss threatened to fire me if I couldn’t fix it. I had no choice.
I asked Adam for a reshoot. He said he’d do it if I had dinner with him. “Just dinner,” he promised. He took me to a tiny, perfect restaurant.
He fed me, asked me questions, and didn’t make a single crude joke. He told me about the girl he wanted to marry, the girl he fell in love with in high school. “She was the only one who ever stood up for me,” he said. “I’ve been looking for her ever since.
”
I felt strange listening to that. I had a moment like that in high school. I hit a group of bullies with a brick to save a boy I’d never seen before. I looked at Adam, and my heart stopped.
No. It couldn’t be. The next day, the news broke. Adam Hartford was engaged to Diana Vaughn, a British heiress.
The photos showed a woman with dark hair and brown eyes. She looked like me. Diana came to see me herself. She was warm, funny, and completely open.
“Adam told me about you,” she said. “When he said girls like you can never go wild, I just had to meet you. ”
I laughed, bitter. “I thought he meant you.
The girl he loved in high school. ”
Diana frowned. “He could never forget you. You’re the one he saved from the bullies.
He said he found you, and then he let you get away. ”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. I saved him.
I hit the bullies with a brick. ”
Diana went white. “Catherine, that’s not how he tells it. He said you saved him.
”
Neither of us was wrong. We’d saved each other, and neither of us knew it. When Adam found me, he was furious. “You pushed me away.
You humiliated me. And now you’re engaged? ”
“I’m not,” I said. “That was a misunderstanding.
”
But I was tired. I told him to leave, and I meant it. Then William called. He’d discovered the truth about Peter and Amy.
He asked me to come to dinner. Adam showed up too, and Peter lost his temper. “She’s my wife! ” Peter shouted.
“She was never yours,” Adam said calmly. William turned to Peter, his voice shaking. “You betrayed this family. You humiliated us.
You’re done. ”
Then he looked at Adam. “Mr. Hartford, all I ask is that you and Catherine be happy.
I support your divorce from Peter. You have my blessing. ”
Adam came to me that night, on one knee. “Catherine, will you marry me?
”
I laughed through my tears. “You can’t propose to someone fresh out of a divorce. ”
“I’ve waited years,” he said. “I’m not waiting another second.
I already booked the church. ”
I said yes. We were married a week later, in the same church where my father had walked me down the aisle to Peter. But this time, Adam held my hand, and he didn’t let go.
“I love you, my dear sugar,” he whispered as we danced. “I love you too,” I said. “But you’re still paying for that million dollars. ”
He laughed, and I did too, because in the end, it didn’t matter.
The richest man in the world had been mine all along—and I had been his.
