Sugar

Sugar: 6/10 Cup

"Oh, look, it's Naomi Briva. She's a model, did you know that, D? She's from Brazil," Cora chirped, smiling her bleached, megawatt smile to distract from her little brother's black hole of a scowl, which seemed to suck the joy right out of the pomp and pretentious atmosphere surrounding them. "Isn't she beautiful?"

He chanced a glance at the young woman Cora was motioning to, catching dark auburn hair pulled tight into a sleek ponytail. Not a single strand was out of place and her cheekbones could compete with everything in his knife drawer.

Her cheeks were too hollow. She couldn't even smirk right. She was, indeed, stunning, but Dorian felt the entire point of her beauty were camera lenses and not actual human eyes. He'd been with his fair share of models, but he had a type. Plus sized brunettes. Naomi Briva was too thin for his liking.

"Sure." He looked back down at his watch, wondering when it would be polite to leave, but it hadn't even been half an hour since they'd stepped through the doors. Cora was already making the night unbearable with her habitual matchmaking.

Where was the bar? He couldn't dare to think such a luxurious venue wouldn't have at least one spot where pretend philanthropists could get blackout drunk.

"Bankfurth, good to see you could make it." One of the event hosts approached them with an equally bleached smile that could've contended with his sister's. "Thank you for bringing the real star of the show."

Cora giggled nervously and nearly melted off his arm into a puddle on the floor as the chef took her hand and kissed the back of it. Dorian's scowl darkened. "Keep your hands of my sister, Hunter."

"Dorian, don't be rude!" She bat her eyelashes at Garrett Hunter and her smile became just a bit more demure. "You're hosting tonight, Mr. Hunter?"

Dorian wondered why Cora spent so much time looking for his match when she was obviously eager to find one of her own. Garrett Hunter wasn't a bad man, he was just so fucking annoying.

"Co-hosting. The other two should be around here somewhere." He looked around the room slowly. "How are you enjoying your evening so far?"

"Terribly." His sister smacked his arm hard enough to leave a bruise. "Delightful. Terribly delightful," he corrected dryly.

"The atmosphere is so rich with life, Mr. Hunter." Cora smiled again. "Thank you for the invitation."

"Of course. It's never a party without Dory, here."

Dorian was going to punch him.

"Oh my—" Cora whispered, digging her nails into his arm through the sleeves of his suit jacket. "Is that chef Obisani?!"

"What are you whispering for if you're just going to yell?" Dorian grumbled, but he, irresistibly, turned his head too.

Kahlia was wearing her usual smile, which lit up the world around her. Her hair was styled in a half-up do that showed off the long silver earrings that brushed the soft skin of her shoulders as they swayed and dangled.

"I've never seen her in anything other than a chef's uniform," Cora continued in awe. "She's gorgeous!"

"She is." Garrett Hunter nodded his agreement. Dorian's death glare was ignored. "She's a sweet girl."

A wine coloured jumpsuit hugged the frame of her body, wrapping her tight like a pretty present waiting to be opened. Dorian wasn't sure whether he wanted to stare at her or take her home.

She was so beautiful, so radiant, that he felt dumbstruck. He, who knew every part of Kahlia, every mole and stretch mark. Dorian felt like he hadn't really seen her before. She was either casually dressed or naked around him.