SUGAR DADDY|| Alejandro

The first time I saw him, he was sitting in the VIP section of the lounge, a crystal glass of whiskey balanced between his fingers. The kind of man who exuded wealth in the way he moved—effortless, controlled, like the world bent to his will. He wasn’t old, not exactly, but older than me by at least fifteen years. A man in his prime, powerful, confident. The kind of man who didn’t just enter a room—he owned it.

I hadn’t meant to catch his attention. But when our eyes met, something flickered in his gaze. Amusement? Curiosity? Whatever it was, it sent a slow heat through my veins.

I wasn’t new to this game. I knew how to play the role—how to smile just enough, how to tilt my head like I was hanging onto every word. But with him, I felt like a deer in the headlights, caught in something far more dangerous than I’d anticipated.

He beckoned me over with a lazy gesture, and I went. Because that’s what you do when a man like him looks at you like that.

“You’re new here,” he said, his voice smooth, edged with authority. “What’s your name?”

I gave him the name I always used in places like this. A lie wrapped in silk. He smirked like he saw right through it.

“Try again,” he murmured.

And just like that, I knew—I was in trouble.

“You don’t like my name?” I asked, tilting my head just slightly, a smile playing at my lips. It was all part of the act—stay mysterious, keep them intrigued. But something about the way he watched me, like he already knew the answer, made me feel like I wasn’t as in control as I thought.

He leaned forward, setting his glass down with a quiet clink against the marble tabletop. “I prefer honesty.”

A challenge.

I should have walked away right then. I’d played this game before—men with money loved the idea of peeling back layers, convincing themselves they were different from the rest. But something about him made my pulse tick faster. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he had already decided I was his.

I licked my lips, considering. “That depends,” I said smoothly. “Are you planning to remember it?”

His smirk was slow, deliberate. “If you’re worth remembering.”

My chest tightened, but I kept my expression even. I was here for a reason, and it wasn’t to let myself get distracted.

The truth was, I hadn’t come to this lounge for fun. I had debts—ones that weren’t going to disappear with a nine-to-five. This world of champagne smiles and whispered promises wasn’t just about luxury for me—it was survival.

And men like him? They were either my salvation or my downfall.

His eyes flicked over me, assessing. “How long have you been in this... arrangement business?”

I smiled, slow and practiced. “Long enough to know what I’m doing.”

“And yet,” he said, swirling his drink, “you still seem like you’re looking for something.”

I swallowed. He was too sharp. Too perceptive. That was dangerous.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I countered. “Men like you don’t just spend money for fun. You’re getting something out of it.”

He chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I always get what I want.”

There it was again—that feeling. Like I had already stepped into something I wasn’t ready for.

The server approached, setting down a fresh drink in front of me. Before I could even touch it, he reached forward and slid it closer to himself. “Rule number one,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “You don’t accept drinks from strangers.”

I raised a brow. “And are you planning on staying a stranger?”

He leaned in just slightly, the scent of expensive cologne and whiskey washing over me.

“No, princesa,” he murmured. “I’m planning on making you mine.”

And just like that, the game had changed.

One Year Later

The thing about arrangements like ours was that they were supposed to be simple. He paid. I played the part. Everyone got what they wanted.

But nothing about him had ever been simple.

From the moment I stepped into his world, I knew he was different from the usual men who threw money at me just to feel less alone. He was controlled, calculating—but underneath that, there was something darker. A quiet kind of danger, the kind you don’t notice until it’s too late.

At first, I told myself I was fine with it.

He gave me everything—more than I had ever expected. A penthouse apartment I didn’t have to share with roommates, a sleek car I barely knew how to drive, a closet full of silk and designer heels. My debts? Wiped clean with a single signature.

But there were rules.

I was to answer when he called. I wasn’t to entertain other offers. And if I was seen in public, I had to carry myself like a woman who belonged to a man like him.

I told myself it was fair. After all, this was business. A transaction.

But then business became personal.

I started noticing things. The way his phone was always locked. The nights he came home late, a shadow in his expression that hadn’t been there before. The calls in hushed tones, conversations in a language I didn’t understand.

And then there was the incident.

I wasn’t supposed to be at his office that day. He usually kept that part of his life separate from me. But I had left my bracelet in his car, and I figured I’d slip in, grab it, and leave before anyone noticed.

Except I had walked in on something I shouldn’t have.

A man—tall, broad-shouldered, face bloodied—was kneeling in front of him, wrists bound behind his back. My sugar daddy—my lover—was standing over him, sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the powerful, untouchable man I had always known.

Only this time, there was nothing charming about him.

His eyes flicked up the moment he saw me.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

The man on the floor groaned, and I took a step back. My stomach churned. I had known—somewhere, deep down—that he wasn’t just an ordinary businessman.

But I had never imagined this.

He didn’t speak. He just watched me, waiting.

For what? For me to scream? To run?

I did neither.

I don’t know how long we stood there before he finally moved toward me, his presence swallowing me whole.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was calm. Too calm.

My mouth was dry. “And he?” I nodded toward the man on the floor. “Should he be here?”

A beat of silence. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips.

“He’s just business, princesa.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest.

For the first time in a year, I wondered if I had made a deal with the devil.

And worse—if I had already fallen too deep to get out.