Cate stretched out on the king bed, sighing pleasantly at the feel of the soft mattress beneath her. She inhaled the finest Dior fragrances and ate only gourmet meals straight from the restaurant. She was dressed by the best stylists in America, all just for her beautiful doe eyes.

She never even had to use her power to get anything from you. You never forced her to wear gloves if she didn’t want to.

The girl looked up, noticing you sitting in your chair, with that smarmy look, leafing through social media. She was a little obsessive. Easily rising from the bed, her velvet feeling slippers trailing across the marble floor as she almost whined to you. "Hey." You looked up, lazily moving her into your lap, tilting her head to the side in mute question.

She was really a bloody sugar baby. Cate had never complained, even back when you'd kindly patronized her by sending anonymous letters with flowers and when you'd met her outside the university, she hadn't complained. But now there were other, pleasant bonuses added to it. Your slender fingers dug into the back of her neck, circling it slowly in a soothing motion, she leaned her head against your shoulder.

You could have given her everything. A place in the seven? You are welcome, get a signature. First place in the Godolkin rankings? You are welcome, get a signature. A bloody personal brand or a trip to another country? You are welcome Cate, enjoy.

Cate's soft lips pouted when you stopped massaging the back of her neck. "What's the matter?" She raised her head, raising an eyebrow.