Fake It For Daddy (Sugar Daddy 1)

I nod once. “Okay then. This is their home playing field and we need to get back on friendly turf.”

“Exactly.” He grins at me. “Come on then. Let’s get going.”

I finish packing as fast as I can and we’re out the door ten minutes later. We hurry through the lobby, heads down, and grab the first taxi we find. It takes us out to the airport, and once we’re there, Leon books the first flight out of Monaco. It’s a direct flight into Germany, but from there we’ll be able to get a flight to the States.

“And maybe we can have a short vacation,” he says to me as we sit down in the terminal. “Those two don’t have any sway in Germany.”

“Sounds romantic.” I grin at him. “You know, I thought being with a rich guy would mean all private jets.”

He smirks. “Takes too long to charter one. At least we’re flying first class.”

“Oh, yeah, you know how to treat a girl.”

He laughs at that and I can tell he’s starting to feel a little bit better. People swirl around us, mostly speaking French and the local dialect, but I barely pay attention to them. It’s any other airport in any other place, just people going from one place to the next, forced into a small space together but still anonymous to each other.

I lean my head up against Leon’s shoulder. He doesn’t move and I can almost feel him smiling. This kind of outward display of affection would’ve been horrible just a week ago, but now it feels comfortable. I think something shifted in the hotel room the other night when he took me… all of me… over and over again.

I think we’re both starting to admit that this may have started out fake, but it’s definitely shifting into something real.

We wait for our flight, alternatively bored and anxious. With a half hour to go, the boarding call goes up. Since we’re first class, we’re first up.

Just as we stand, several figures loom into view. Leon glances over his shoulder and curses. “It’ll be okay,” he says to me.

I blink, surprised, not sure what he means. And then I look back myself.

Three men stand there. Two of them are wearing military outfits and carrying assault rifles while the third is wearing a simple police uniform. He’s frowning at the pair of us.

“Leon Price and Paige Turner?” he asks in accented English.

“Yes,” Leon says. “That’s us.”

“You are wanted for questioning. Please, come.”

“We’re going to miss our flight,” I protest. “What’s this about? We didn’t do anything.”

“Please,” the man says again, gesturing. The two armed guards don’t smile or move.

“But we didn’t—”

Leon takes my hand and squeezes. “Very well,” he says to the police officer. He pulls me along behind him as we follow the man. The two guards fall in behind us silently.

I stare up at Leon, heart racing, but he doesn’t look particularly surprised. It’s almost like he was expecting this, but hoped it wouldn’t happen. He looks… vaguely disappointed.

We follow the hallways until the officer takes us down a side passage. We go into an unmarked door and into what’s clearly some kind of official police station in the heart of the airport.

The officer speaks the local language and we move past a series of checkpoints, eventually landing in a bare white room with only a table, four chairs, and a mirror along one wall. Clearly we’re in an interrogation room.

“Please, sit,” the officer says. One guard stands inside and the other stays outside. “Stay here. I will return.”

The officer disappears.

I turn to Leon, heart racing. “What is this?”

“Cerise and Maxime,” he says sadly. “They found out. Fucking shit. I thought we moved fast enough.”

I blink rapidly. “You’re serious? They figured out we left and came here? And these guys are working for them?”

He sighs and nods. “I don’t know how they figured it out and I doubt these men work directly for them, but yes, that’s more or less right.”

“Shit,” I say, leaning back. “We’re not leaving Monaco, are we?”

He doesn’t answer and I know I don’t need him to.

The realization and horrible truth slowly sinks into my veins as we’re left in that room for two hours. The guard inside the room eventually leaves and nobody comes in to replace him. I bang on the door and yell once, but nobody responds, and Leon just gently asks me to sit back down and try to be quiet.

There’s nothing else to do. I pace around like a caged animal, heart racing, sweating slightly. My anxiety is going wild. I hate being locked up like this. It’s driving me insane.

“Paige, please,” Leon says. “It’s going to be okay. We’re not going to be in any trouble. They just want to make sure we can’t leave.”

“They could do that without locking us in a room,” I say harshly. “Those fucking assholes. How can they do this? What right do they have?”