Intoxicated by Cynthia Dane

Author:Cynthia Dane [Dane, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Contemporary Billionaire Steamy Romantic Comedy
Publisher: Barachou Press
Published: 2019-08-07T16:00:00+00:00

***

“A rich guy broke your heart when you were barely out of high school.” I mix a generous helping of paneer with my biryani rice. The spice level at this Indian buffet isn’t as high as I might like, but I get it. When you’re dealing with Pacific Northwestern palates, you’re in the business of keeping heat levels… low.

Cher doesn’t seem to mind. When she said she wanted Indian cuisine after a long morning and early afternoon of shopping, I knew the place to take her. There’s this well-known Indian buffet right here in Seattle’s heart, Belltown. For a reasonable rate, you can get all-you-can-eat Indian staples that fill your stomach to the point of popping an antacid. The place is quaint enough, even if it doesn’t “pop” like so many of the trendy restaurants around here.

Right. We were having a heated discussion about what turned her into a bitch.

“Nope.” Her freshly-baked nan dips into the bowl of paneer we share. “Never had my heart broken, actually. Isn’t it funny that you thought you’d be the first one to do it?”

“I’ve got it.” My fingers snap as I ignore what she said. “Your mother trained you in the fine arts of sugar-babying. She was a professional sugar baby herself back in the… let me guess… late eighties. Is your father really a CEO somewhere? Ooh, a rich dentist?”

“One of those things is somewhat right, but only because you got lucky with that ludicrous guess.” Cher takes a tender bite of her nan. Her aviator sunglasses perch atop her head, hair now back down and loose around her shoulders. She’s wearing a baggy pink T-shirt that tucks into the same black skirt she was wearing when I rammed it in her for the first time. (Ah, such sweet and spicy memories.) Big plastic bracelets jangle against her wrist. Teardrop earrings brush against her long throat. She isn’t wearing as much makeup today. This is a woman who wanted to dress comfortably for her big day out with me, the man who insisted on tagging along with her modest shopping spree. The only thing missing is a necklace around that lovely neck. Do you think she’ll let me leave a trail of hickies there? How about a pearl necklace? She seems the type. “My dad’s a podiatrist. A successful one, at that.”

“Buuuut…”

“My mom’s never been a sugar baby, as far as I know. Shit, I’m pretty sure she was a virgin before she met my dad. I would bet money on him being the only man she’s ever slept with. How’s them apples?”

“Drat.” I drum my fingers against the table. “You’re a sociopath who gets her jollies fucking over men. Since you’re incapable of understanding empathy or most social cues you haven’t forced yourself to learn, it’s easy for you to use your perceived beauty to…”

“Nope.” Cher continues to chow down on her nan. “I’ve had therapists. A lot of them thought I was fucked up, but never once did they bring up the possibility of sociopathy.

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