Candy King

Book 3: Sugar Series

by Christine d'Abo

Genres: Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

Good girls don’t have sugar daddies. But this good girl is naughtier than she thought . . . For journalist Simone LeBlanc, getting an exposé on the Candy King—the man behind the infamous sugar daddy website—would be her big break. But when she’s suddenly caught up in a sizzling email exchange with the King himself, she’s even hungrier to unwrap her mystery man—and intrigued when she discovers he’s Dylan Williams, son of a prominent Toronto family. She asks Dylan for an exclusive interview and she gets a scandalous offer instead: Let him be her sugar daddy and she’ll get the scoop of a lifetime. Dylan knows Simone could destroy his family’s reputation. But one look at her delectable beauty and he has to have a taste. Then another. And another. Soon she’s trying to convince him that people find love on his website. As if love had anything to do with the fire that drove them together. But the more Dylan keeps sweet, sexy Simone in his bed, the more the Candy King wonders if he’s found the queen he craves . . . Praise for Christine d’Abo’s 30 Days “Perfect for folks seeking a well-written, hot read with substance.” —Library Journal, Starred Review “Romance fans will delight in this sweet and spicy expedition.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review “Readers will be blown away. . . . A sizzling hot, completely fulfilling and satisfying read!” —RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars “Sexy, fun and deeply emotional. Bravo!” — J. Kenner, New York Times bestselling author

Release date: December 17, 2019

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 200

Sample

Chapter 1

With great effort, Simone Leblanc managed to not smooth down the front of her skirt, play with her hair, or push against the bridge of her glasses while she waited for her boss to finish reading whatever the hell he was pretending to read and finally look at her. Carl liked to make her squirm, and he knew that she knew, which made the entire game all the more annoying.

Simone hated being the low girl in the pecking order of the newspaper, but with any luck, she was about to move up a notch. Maybe two, if Carl was finally willing to acknowledge that she’d earned her stripes.

Because, really, how many fluff pieces on sushi restaurants and community association events did a girl have to do before she got her shot? Ten? Twenty? Fighting the urge to let out a huff, she kept her lips sealed and her gaze locked onto Carl’s face.

Any minute now.

He was going to look up.

Instead of doing what she was silently willing him to do, Carl licked his thumb and flipped to the next page. Simone internally screamed.

The clock on the wall continued to tick, each snick of the second hand moving Simone closer and closer to simply quitting. You have two minutes, Carl. That’s it, and I’m—

“Interesting piece.” Carl flipped the paper over and finally looked up at her.

Okay, things were about to get interesting. She straightened ever so slightly, took a breath, and made sure she was smiling. “What were you reading?”

“A piece on the by-election that Mark wrote. He might have uncovered a data breach by the candidate, which could turn the tide for this election.” Carl was smirking by the end of his sentence. “Did you get your piece finished?”

He knew she had. This was the same song and dance he made her do every single time she walked into his office. Simone was tired of being on the receiving end of his lack of faith and confidence in her journalistic abilities. But he’d given her a job when no one else had—an opportunity to publish articles both online and in the paper. Each one was a success, a feather in her cap that served to increase her reputation and give her valuable experience.

If he wasn’t such an asshole, she might even express her thanks.

“I did. You should have received it in your in-box yesterday morning.” Her cheeks were sore from maintaining her smile. “I’d assumed you’d read it and had some comments.”

“Not yet.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a once-over. There was nothing sexual in his gaze, and not for the first time, she couldn’t help but feel he didn’t quite know what to make of her. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Ugh. She hated the word fine. That was the fucking kiss of death when it came to Carl. He might as well have said passable or adequate. She’d worked too hard over the years, put far too much into each and every story that was assigned to her, for her boss to see the end result as anything less than stellar.

Simone took a deep breath and brightened her smile. “Thank you. Your faith in my abilities to produce excellent articles is greatly appreciated.” Suck on that, asshat.

Carl grunted.

Okay, here was her chance to push things to the next level. “In fact, I’d like to do something more than looking at the top food trucks in the city or interviewing kindergarten students about the weather.” She lowered her chin and inched closer to his desk. “I’d like to do a story on the growing sugar daddy phenomenon here in Toronto.”

The look of pure, dumbfounded confusion on Carl’s face was worth the chance that he’d shoot her down. He knew she’d wanted more from her career, wanted to take risks to see how far she could push things, but he never seemed willing to let her run with an idea. Simone never knew why.

When he opened his mouth, only to close it and frown, she braced herself for the worst. But when he finally spoke, it was her turn to be surprised. “Why?”

She cocked her head as she narrowed her gaze. “What do you mean, why? I want an opportunity to prove myself as a journalist.”

“Why this particular story? Why involve yourself in a world that you clearly know nothing about?”

For a heartbeat, she almost told him that she did know something about this world. That her best friend, Kayla, had found the love of her life through a sugar daddy site and they were now engaged and getting married in a few months.

Almost.

“Remember I did that interview with Marissa Roy and Vince Taylor last year?”

“I do.” Carl leaned forward. “You’re not telling me that Vince Taylor signed up for a sugar daddy site.”

“I’m not. Because that’s not something on the record, and I would never, ever pass along information that hasn’t been fact-checked and verified. Or that was said to me in confidence.” She gave him a look, knowing there was no way he’d interpret it as anything other than There’s a story here if you just let me chase it.

“No, you like to play things far too safe to ever do that.” He tapped his finger on his desk blotter for a moment, before finally nodded. “Too safe. What makes you think that you can handle this type of story? Men buying women for sex isn’t exactly something that you’ll be able to get easy interviews for. You’ll need to insert yourself into that world to make any real headway.”

Simone blinked. Then she leaned in and tilted her ear toward him. “And you don’t think I could pass as a sugar baby?”

“You absolutely would.” His gaze never once left her eyes. “I just don’t think you could handle it emotionally.”

Simone was many things: smart, hyper, really enjoyed a good food truck, but being emotionally resilient was something she’d had to work on since she was a child. She was quick to laugh, love, and cry, and her anger could come to a head faster than she cared to admit. Every situation that she found herself in, Simone took to heart. Which meant that, for once, Carl’s assessment of her was closer to the truth than she would like.

Clearing her throat, she looked away for a moment before pulling her shoulders back and nodding. “I’m the first to admit that I’m a bit of a marshmallow. But I think that’s exactly what this story needs. The men and women who sign up to be sugar babies aren’t doing it for sex. They need cash because of impossible situations, such as to help pay for school so they can make their lives better. They need to be treated with respect, not denigrated for their life choices. The men and women who have money and are looking for sugar babies also need respect. Despite what the public thinks, they’re not all after sex with people society has deemed too young. Some are lonely, awkward, have no way of finding companionship without their bank account being front and center. They too need someone who isn’t going to pre-judge them.”

Carl didn’t make a sound throughout her speech. His gaze never wavered, and Simone couldn’t help but think he was looking into her soul. Maybe he was. Carl was a bit different from everyone else. Maybe he was psychic or something.

After a minute that stretched on for a day, he nodded. “Run with it.”

“Really?” Simone blinked, terrified she’d misheard him.

“Don’t make me regret this. I expect you to come back with something good that I can run as a feature. I don’t want excuses. And I don’t want us to get fucking sued. Make sure that you have everything backed up, verified, and sources wrapped up tight.”

Excitement and fear coursed through her like a powerful wave of angry butterflies. “You won’t regret this. I’m…I have an angle that I know is going to be amazing.”

“Dare I ask?”

“I’m going after the Candy King.”

Carl cocked an eyebrow. “Who the what?”

“That’s the pseudonym of the site owner. I’m not going to expose him or anything, but I want to interview him, find out what started him on this venture.”

“Fine. But if there’s even a hint that this is above your capability, I’m going to have Mark step in and take over.”

Fuck you, Mark. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I hope not.” Carl turned back toward his computer monitor. “Get out of my office and go work.”

“Yes, sir.” Simone didn’t wait to be told again, spun on her heel, and marched out of his office.

Finally, this was it! Her heart pounded as she marched past Carl’s secretary, giving her a little smile and a super quick thumbs-up as she walked past. Not only was her interview with the Candy King a surefire way to make a name for herself in investigative journalism, Simone couldn’t help but hope this story would help her gain the respect of Carl, Mark, and every other journalist at the paper.

She was the youngest by several years, and she’d grown tired of being looked down as the kid, the one who hadn’t lived enough life to really know what the real world was like. Sure, her life growing up had been pretty easy. That didn’t mean she hadn’t had her fair share of problems, that she didn’t know that life wasn’t all sunshine and roses.

Well, maybe things had sailed a bit more smoothly for her compared to others. Even her best friend, Kayla—who, granted, was now a multimillionaire—had had to fight her way through tough financial times to get where she was today. But that didn’t mean that Simone’s experience was any less valid. If anything, she was as representative of a twentysomething, middle-class, white Canadian girl as anyone could be.

Jesus, no wonder people roll their eyes at me.

Well, she couldn’t do anything about where she’d come from, but at the very least she was ready to use her privilege for the forces of good—as soon as she could make her big break so people would listen to her.

The elevator was packed, but she managed to slide into the throng before the doors slid shut. The smells of perfume, cologne, and Tim Hortons coffee pressed down on her, making the short ride to the lobby nearly unbearable. This was why she didn’t come into the office very often—the overwhelming world of scent could give her a migraine at a moment’s notice. It was as frustrating as it was painful, especially when she was ready to dive into her first real story.

Simone bolted from the elevator the moment the doors opened wide enough for her to slide out. Sucking in a deep breath of fresh air, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and hit the speed dial for Kayla.

“So, how’d it go?” Kayla always sounded slightly amused when Simone called her. Probably because nine times out of ten, Simone would go off on some crazy tangent of an idea.

But not this time. “It was awesome.”

“He’s going to let you go after the story?”

“Yes! So if you’re trying to get in touch with me, chances are I’ll be unavailable. Well, I mean, I’ll be around, but depending on what’s going on, I might be in the middle of an interview or chasing this guy around or something.”

Kayla chuckled, and Simone stopped walking. “You never did tell me what you were planning.”

“I didn’t?” That was, unfortunately, not as surprising as it should be. “I’m doing an exposé.”

“On?” Kayla suddenly sounded far more interested. “And is it dangerous?”

“Are you kidding me? I’ll never be one of those war zone journalists. Too much of a chicken.” She took a breath and looked around, just in case one of her colleagues was hovering nearby. “You know that site I showed you. The one where you and Devin—”

“I’m aware.” The fact that Kayla and her fiancé had met on a sugar daddy site was still something that Kayla didn’t like publicized. “What about it?”

“I’m going to do a story on the owner. He goes by the pseudonym the Candy King.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Hell yes, it is! It’s going to be the story that puts me on the map. With a story like this, I’ll finally have a byline with some meat. And if the paper closes up or switches to fully online content, then I’ll have something substantial on my résumé to help move me into a higher-profile website or paper.” Excitement surged through her so strongly that she was able to ignore the small voice in the back of her head that was talking to her.

Kayla chuckled again. “Well, good luck. It sounds like you’re going to knock them dead.”

“That’s the plan. I just need to figure one thing out before I can get started.”

“What’s that?”

Simone squeezed her cell phone a bit tighter. “Who the Candy King really is.”

* * * *

Simone sat down in front of her computer and stared at her Word document, which was filled with all of the information she’d gotten so far on the mysterious Candy King. The sole proprietor of millionairesugardaddies.com, he was Canadian and lived in Toronto.

And that was all she had.

Leaning back, she held her now-warm can of hard cider to her chest and sighed. She wasn’t going to get very far if she couldn’t get more information on him than this. The website itself didn’t reveal anything, and the URL was set to private, so there wasn’t any information to be had that way. She clicked on the icon that took her to his profile once more.

At the very least, he could have put a picture up, something mysterious that had a hidden clue that she’d find in a moment of clarity, like they always show on television shows. But she wasn’t going to get much out of this blank icon nor the mostly empty profile.

“How am I going to get to you?”

If this was going to work, she would need to play ball. It only took her a few minutes to set up an account on the site, though she too didn’t add a picture and left as much information blank as she could. The bits that she needed to fill in she faked, not wanting her real name and vital statistics out there someplace she couldn’t control.

She set her cider down, went back to Candy King’s profile, and clicked on the e-mail me button.

She typed out a quick message about her being a reporter and wanting to do a story on him and the website. It was quirky and rambled as much as she did in her daily conversations. She was about to hit send when she stopped, tipped her head back, and sighed.

There was no way someone like the Candy King would be willing to reveal his true self to someone for no reason. If he’d wanted to be interviewed by reporters, he would have put his name on the site to begin with. No, she was going to have to take a different approach if she wanted to make this work.

Deleting what she’d written, Simone tried to think of what might entice a man like the Candy King into talking with her. She wouldn’t trick him into revealing his identity or anything like that. But she suspected it would be far easier to convince him to sit down for an interview with her if he she could intrigue him.

And that’s what she’d have to do.

Cracking her knuckles, she started again.

Hail to the King.

I’ve been on your site looking for the right kind of man and haven’t found him. Are all your subjects the same? Maybe I should be looking for royalty? Or perhaps I should resign myself to my mundane existence?

Poor me.

Sugar Tart

Wow, that was the corniest thing she’d ever typed. She was embarrassed to have a degree in journalism and to have those words come from her fingertips. Simone grinned and pressed send. While he might not respond to her, at the very least, she’d now laid down her first bread crumb. Maybe he’d notice.

Or maybe not.

Simone waited for all of ten minutes before getting up from her computer to get another cider. When she’d returned to her laptop, she was surprised when there was an e-mail in her in-box.

Hello, little Tart.

Now, aren’t you sweet? But your Candy King isn’t playing with his toys right now. Maybe you can find a minion in my playground who will help you out. If you put your picture online, I have no doubt someone will reach out.

Your Candy King

Simone chuckled as a bolt of excitement rushed through her. It was him! While he didn’t give her an open invitation to come over to his place, it was a start. Because now that she had him, Simone wasn’t going to let go until she got exactly what she wanted.

She lifted her cider in the air. “Hail to the King.”

Chapter 2

It had been two weeks since Simone first contacted the Candy King, and while she’d learned more details about him—he was over six feet tall, had brown hair and brown eyes, and was filthy rich—she really was no closer to determining his identity than she was when she’d started. That wasn’t exactly surprising—really, she hadn’t given him a great reason to expose himself at this point—but what had surprised her was how much she was enjoying the flirting.

Dear God, did he know how to flirt.

Hello Sugar Tart. I was out at a club dancing with a woman and wanted her to be you. Was it you? I don’t think so. She didn’t smell as sweet as I know you will.

Hello sweet thing. I just got out of the shower after working out. Still wet and naked but will dry off as I walk around my condo. Too bad I don’t have anyone to show off for.

Hello little Tart. I keep picturing you sitting there, your fingers caressing the tops of your breasts. I’d like for that to be my hand one day.

Simone had installed the website app to her phone and was thoroughly enjoying their sexy back-and-forth banter all day. There was something wonderfully freeing about engaging anonymously with someone online. She could pretend, or not, as she wanted. There was no pressure to dress a certain way or worry about being bloated. Every time she read one of his texts, the lonely part of her that she did her best to ignore relaxed a tiny bit more.

It was proving to be a bit too much of a distraction, especially when she was trying to focus on writing up an article for the paper’s online site on the upcoming summer activities around Toronto for the next long weekend, but for once she could legitimately chalk it up to research.

Real, honest-to-God research.

And if she happened to get a bit horny and had to take a little extra personal time in the morning before getting ready for work, then what harm could come from that? Even if her arousal was the least interesting part of their conversations.

Her phone was currently facedown on her desk with notifications set to vibrate. The Candy King had been quiet this morning, and as much as Simone wanted to poke him again, she also knew that playing coy was sometimes a good thing. Still, it had been a few hours since he’d last talked to her, and things were getting to the point where she was getting twitchy.

Not that he owed her a conversation.

Not that she really wanted one.

This was all for research.

As she slowly typed out the next sentence in her article, her gaze drifted from her computer monitor to her phone, where it eventually stopped. Come on, my dude, don’t keep me waiting.

“You having a hard time over there?”

Simone sat up, her heart pounding, and stared at Elena, her co-worker and partner in crime when it came to the city beat. “I guess I’m a bit distracted.”

“More so than normal. You waiting on hearing from a hot guy or something?” She spun side to side in her chair, grinning at Simone. “Because you don’t normally stare at that thing like you are today.”

While she didn’t want to lie to Elena, Simone didn’t know exactly what to tell her about the details of her new project. Because as much as she liked her, Elena wasn’t exactly known for keeping secrets to herself.

Simone shrugged, turning her attention back to the computer monitor. “I’m actually waiting to hear from a source for a new story I’m working on. He promised to get back to me today, but so far it’s been radio silence.”

“Source? Did you find out about a new restaurant or something?” Elena gasped and leaned closer. “Can you get us into the Cork and Pig? I will love you forever if you say yes.”

“God, I wish. No, it’s nothing that exciting.” Just the chance to learn the truth behind a secret identity and write a story that will push my career to the next tier. That’s it, that’s all.

“That sucks.” Elena groaned. “I’ve had my name on the list to get a table for a month now, but they keep pushing me off. I think they’re scared that I’m going to give them a bad review or something.”

“You’re not exactly known to be the easiest to please when it comes to food reviews.”

“And you’re not exactly known as a good liar.” Elena smiled at Simone and spun all the way around in her chair. “But keep your secrets for now. I know you’ll spill sooner or later.”

“Never!” Simone said with a laugh, knowing she would have to be extra careful, especially if Elena’s curiosity was piqued. “You haven’t told me the best restaurant to check out this month. I need to know how many pennies to save up.”

“There hasn’t been anything exciting recently. But as soon as I find a spot, you can be my plus one.” Elena leaned closer. “We get to expense it that way.”

“God, I love food.” Simone leaned back and made a happy sigh.

“That’s one of the things I love about you.”

Her mom was a baker for a downtown bakery. Growing up, Simone was constantly smelling freshly baking bread, cookies, muffins, whatever new recipe her mom wanted to try out before introducing it at work. That was the upside to her mom’s job. The downside was her never being home in the mornings, leaving Simone home alone with her dad.

Simone nearly jumped out of her chair when her p. . .