Candy King
Also by Christine d’Abo
Sugar & Spice
Sugar Sweet
30 Days
30 Nights
Submissive Seductions
Table of Contents
Also by Christine d’Abo
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Teaser Chapter
Candy King
Christine d’Abo
LYRICAL CARESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
LYRICAL CARESS BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2020 by Christine d’Abo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.
Lyrical Shine and Lyrical Shine logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First Electronic Edition: December 2019
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0668-4 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0668-7 (ebook)
First Print Edition: December 2019
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0669-1
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0669-5
Printed in the United States of America
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.
Candy King Page 1
