Textual Confusion

I need you tomorrow.

Same time and place as last week.

Who dis?

Did I f*ck you stupid last time? You know.

Between barely scrapping by financially and dealing with a stalker ex-boyfriend, Asher’s life was already problematic enough before randomly receiving a string of texts from an unknown number in the middle of the night.

He should have just done what a normal person would do and ignore them.

But since when had Asher ever been normal? Besides, based on the not-quite-nudes the guy sent, he was clearly hot. Against his better judgment, Asher responds – which doesn’t take long to devolve into depraved sexting.

He wasn’t expecting the man to Venmo him an eye-popping amount of cash for his trouble. (Not that he ever got the money. The guy didn’t know who he was – or that he was even another man, for that matter.)

That should have been the end of it. Except they keep texting. And, like the utter moron he is, it doesn’t take long for Asher to catch feelings.

Honestly, he ought to know better than to fall for rich assholes by now.

(Otherwise known as how Asher Kodet, twenty-three-year-old baker extraordinaire, becomes the accidental sugar baby of Markus Kingston, richest, meanest – but actually the frickin’ sweetest – billionaire CEO in all of Seattle.)