Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Maia
Walking into the dance studio, I greeted the girls and slipped into the locker room. Changing into my dance attire, I smiled when Brielle and Delilah came in.
“MAIA!” Delilah squealed, running straight for me. I caught her in my arms, laughing.
“Hey, love bug. What’s up?”
“I’M GOOD!” she shouted happily.
“Inside voice, Dede,” Brielle reminded gently from behind her.
I kissed the little bug’s head before setting her down so she could dart over to the other girls.
I glanced back. Brielle had sunk onto the bench, shoulders sagging, a tired smile on her face.
“Bri?” I muttered, sitting beside her.
“Hey, Maia,” she said softly.
“Everything okay?”
“Somewhat…” She sighed, watching Delilah chatter in the corner. “I’m thinking about applying for some full-time jobs.”
My brows furrowed. “Really?”
She nodded. “I’m low on cash. As much as I don’t want to leave Delilah, the bills just keep coming.”
I rubbed her shoulder, heart tugging. I knew exactly how she felt. The job market was brutal—part-time work was easy enough to find, but full-time that paid decently? Almost impossible. Stress was etched all over her face.
My thoughts drifted to my own mess. For half a second I wanted to ask if I could help her, but Brielle was like me—help felt like pity. And pity was poison.
At least Blaine hadn’t made me sign an NDA yet, though I half-expected it. However, he seemed more interested in his next meal than worrying about the press or Killian’s wrath.
“So,” Brielle said, tilting her head, “what’s new with you? You look… vibrant.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “W-what do you mean?”
“You just look a little happier, that’s all.”
Before I could protest, my phone rang. Normally, I wouldn’t care. But right now? My blood turned cold.
Brielle’s gaze dropped to the screen, curious. And I couldn’t even stop her. Because the ringtone wasn’t normal.
To my absolute horror, it was Usher.
Singing the words to Daddy’s Home.
Snatching the phone off the bench, I silenced it so fast I nearly cracked the screen. For a second, I considered hurling it across the room just to stop the humiliation.
Brielle’s smile widened. “Well… I think I know who’s been making you happy lately.”
Her giggle only made my face burn hotter, beet-red with mortification.
“Bri, trust me when I say this is just a joke between him and me—”
Of course, I didn’t even get the chance to finish.
Because right then, Usher’s voice filled the room again, a loud, smug slew of Hey Daddy lyrics echoing off the lockers.
Slamming the silence button again, I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
Brielle tilted her head, still grinning as she leaned close. “I don’t think Sugar Daddy B feels that way.” She winked before strutting off, leaving me to die of embarrassment on the spot.
My phone buzzed, unable to ring a third time now I’d silenced it. My pulse spiked as I answered in a rush.
“You changed your name and ringtone in my phone,” I seethed.
His chuckle came through the phone, all smug and warm.
“Thought it was a fitting song choice and title,” he laughed.
I narrowed my eyes, clutching the phone. “Do you know how embarrassed I am?”
I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Oh, please. Take a guess at what your name is in my phone.”
I sighed. “What is it?”
“Sugar Baby Sunshine, of course. Why does that sound more like a stripper’s name than just Sunshine?” he muttered.
I rolled my eyes. “What do you want, Blaine?”
“Your account number and routing details.”
“…Right now?” My brows furrowed.
“Well, that was part of our deal, wasn’t it? You stay away from the clubs, and I give you a little incentive for being my little—”
“Don’t,” I hissed, cutting him off as heat crawled up my face.
His laugh rumbled down the line. “I’m kidding, Sunshine.”
“Your sense of humor is starting to annoy me, Mr. Porter.”
“Will it annoy you if I send you fifty grand?”
I froze. “…What?”
“Think of it as a signing bonus,” he bargained smoothly.
“You’re insane,” I whispered, but my pulse skipped.
“I don’t think I am. I just know I need to take care of my baby,” he said, voice dipping low and seductive. My mouth went dry.
“You’re taking this role way too seriously,” I muttered, dazed.
“Mmh. What are you doing tonight?”
At the tone of his voice, my stomach flipped. My legs kicked like a schoolgirl under the bench, hair falling across my cheek as I tilted my head without meaning to. “Sleeping, Mr. Porter. Why?”
“I need to close a deal. Invited the man signing the contract out for a drink. Come with me.”
I scoffed. “And I thought you told me to stay away from the clubs?”
“Only if I’m not there.”
My brows shot up. “Getting a bit territorial, are we now?”
“You know I am, Sunshine,” he replied, that sensual voice curling around me, turning my face crimson. “Let me see you tonight, hmm?”
A curse slipped from me under my breath as I pushed my hair back, desperate to hide the heat climbing my skin. I ignored the way my thighs pressed together at his effective persuasion. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”
Stepping out of my flat, purse in hand, I pulled the door shut behind me. Blaine leaned against the wall opposite, eyes tracking every inch of me as I approached.
“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he muttered.
I spun lightly, showing off the simple but sexy club dress paired with my favorite heels. When I faced him again, his eyes were darker, heavier, devouring.
“You have no clue how much I want to say fuck the contract, fuck the account… just so I can wrap my hand in your hair and fuck you,” he groaned, voice rough with restraint.
I stayed silent, watching the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Confidence surged through me as I stepped in, slowly pressing him back against the wall. My palm rested against his abs, feeling the heat through his shirt, while his hand slid to my waist.
Walking my fingers up his torso, I curled my hand around his jaw and tilted his head down toward mine. My heels gave me enough height to meet his eyes, close enough to feel his labored breaths brush my lips.
“Mmm. I’ll take that as a compliment,” I whispered. His gaze flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes, hunger sharp in the look.
I let go and turned, swaying my hips deliberately as I strode toward the elevator. Glancing over my shoulder, I smiled. “We should get going, Mr. Porter. Don’t want to be late.”
Behind me, I heard him exhale sharply before muttering under his breath, “Yes, Mommy… fuck.”
I rolled my eyes at his antics, but couldn’t hide my smile when his hand settled on my lower back, steady and possessive. He held the door of the complex for me, and together we crossed to his car.
Once inside, I buckled in and turned to him, tilting my head. “And what exactly is my role tonight, Mr. Porter?”
His hand found my thigh, thumb stroking idly as his lips curled into a smirk. “Be good eye candy for your sugar daddy.”
I arched a brow, impressed despite myself. “Clever choice of words.”
He only shrugged. “You know I have to keep you guessing, Sunshine.” He winked, and I giggled as he pulled away from the curb.
Spending time with Blaine made me feel… alive. Fun. Spontaneous. Utterly chaotic. For a few hours, my problems faded. The past didn’t matter. All that mattered was the moment.
Looking at him, you’d never guess this man… this infuriatingly attractive, hilarious, arrogant charmer (his words, not mine) was a billionaire. A man with the world in the palm of his hand. It still baffled me how much attention he gave me. But I wasn’t complaining.
Eventually, we reached the club. He stepped out first, tossing the valet his keys before circling around to open my door. I thanked him softly and took his hand as I stepped out. Immediately, I noticed the shadows of his bodyguards trailing us as we headed inside.
The club swallowed us in velvet darkness. The air was thick with perfume, liquor, and sweat—sharp, sweet, and suffocating. Laughter rang out from the bar. Ice clinked. Glasses slammed. Everything was loud, lush, overwhelming. It smelled like wealth—powerful, excessive, and impossible to ignore.
With his palm resting firmly against the small of my back, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Familiarity. I forced away the darker thoughts, the memories of how this environment used to cage me, and fixed my focus on Blaine guiding me through the crowd toward the secluded VIP section.
As we neared, he leaned in. “His name is Maxwell Vanderbilt. Rich, pompous asshole. And ironically, the name fits.”
“Why is he so important?” I asked, scanning the man lounging ahead, women draped across him, champagne flowing.
“Long story short, his family owns an oil rig. His father passed the business down, but the idiot doesn’t know a thing about running it.
He’s bleeding money on one of the most profitable assets in the world.
He refuses to sell because his ego won’t let him admit he’s failing.
He’s a big boy living off Daddy’s fortune.
Tonight, I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse. ”
“He owns an oil rig?” My voice trembled. “H-How are you going to make him an offer he can’t refuse?”
Blaine chuckled, leaning into my ear, his breath hot over my skin.
“You let Daddy take care of that, baby.”
The words were meant as a joke—I knew that. I knew it was ridiculous. But my face flushed hot, and my legs pressed together at the sound of his voice calling himself Daddy. It was comical. It was insane.
But this was Blaine Porter. And I couldn’t blame myself for finding even his stupidest, cockiest lines impossibly, sinfully attractive.