Vance hated surprises.
Not the pleasant kind, not the expensive-watch-in-a-velvet-box kind, or the champagne-on-ice kind. He hated the other kind. The kind that arrived without warning, already in motion, already whispered about in rooms he hadn't stepped into yet.
A party.
That was what he was hearing.
And not from Sugar.
That alone was enough to set his teeth on edge.
The car rolled smoothly into the private underground garage beneath Sugar's building, his tires whispering against polished concrete. Vance didn't bother waiting for the valet to open his door. He stepped out himself, straightening his jacket as the elevator doors slid open at the far end of the garage.
The ride up was silent, save for the faint spund of the elevator and the quiet pulse of irritation climbing steadily in his chest.
