JT takes his hand, drops it to her waist, and then slides it up her ribs. She giggles, shifts in her seat and moves her arm giving him more access. He slides it higher and his fingers brush the outside of her breast. She now turns coy, bats his hand away, and laughs again. JT doesn’t laugh though and puts his hand right back at her ribs.

It’s a classic show of dominance, and I’ve seen it so many times before.

“He’s really got the moves, doesn’t he?” Sela murmurs beside me.

I don’t turn to look at her but continue to watch JT in almost mesmerized disgust. “I take it that’s your sarcastic voice, right?”

She laughs. “That obvious, huh?”

JT goes for another touch to the woman’s breast and she again pushes his hand away, but laughs flirtatiously as she does it. I want to tell her she’s doing nothing more than pissing him off, but what good would it do? Any Sugar Baby in this room with the exception of Sela isn’t going to pass up a chance with JT.

Our bartender returns with our drinks, dirty martini for Sela and scotch for me. I hold my glass out to hers and we tap the edges together. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Sela pulls the toothpick out loaded with three olives and pulls one off with her teeth. It’s a sexy move and I’m fascinated by it until she points the toothpick now holding two olives at JT. “You know…I have to wonder, do you see any good in your partner at all?”

It’s not a strange question, but her tone has an odd inflection. Almost combative in nature. I know Sela doesn’t like JT, and shit…I don’t like him much nowadays, but it seems a bit personal to Sela. I look over at him, start to turn back to Sela to tell her the truth of my feelings when I watch the blonde push up off the stool and grab her purse. She goes on tiptoe, whispers something in JT’s ear, and then heads off toward the bathroom. JT watches her for a moment, his eyes pinned to her ass, and then he turns back to the bar. Reaching inside his left breast pocket, he pulls something out.

He does it so swiftly and assuredly I almost don’t believe what I’m seeing. He casually holds his hand over the woman’s drink and a white powder floats down into it. He looks quickly at the bartender, whose back is turned, and then picks up the drink to swirl the powder until it’s dissolved.

“Did he just—” Sela starts to ask, but I’m already pushing away from the bar like an enraged bull.

I stalk toward JT in angry strides, watching as he stares at the drink that he’s now set onto the bar with a satisfied smile. Just when I’m a foot away from him, his head comes up and makes eye contact with me. He smiles at first in welcome, but when he sees the look on my face, it slides right back off.

I grab the drink, step up on the foot rail at the bottom of the bar, and lean over it, pouring the drink out into the sink on the other side.

“What the fuck?” JT says with indignation.

I slam the glass down and my hand shoots out, grabbing a fistful of JT’s shirt and tie. I haul him away from the bar and start pulling him toward the exit. People scramble out of our way, most with looks of surprise that the two owners of The Sugar Bowl seem to be on the verge of a fistfight.

He tries to shrug me off but I hiss at him, “You follow me the fuck out of here right now, asshole, or so help me God I’m going to call the police over what you just tried to do.”

JT immediately goes still and I give him a hard shove toward the exit as I release my hold on him. He goes stumbling for a moment, then catches his footing. He looks around at everyone staring and holds his hands up, “Nothing to worry about, folks. Just a friendly tug-of-war over a Sugar Baby.”

He gives a smarmy grin, and the closest people who heard that laugh nervously. I don’t laugh and give him a rough push to his shoulder, sending him stumbling again. That gets JT moving and we walk quickly out of the ballroom. JT doesn’t look at me but walks directly to the men’s bathroom. I follow him in and he turns to face me. I can tell by the quiet of the room that it’s empty except for us and I lunge at him. Now grabbing fistfuls of shirt, jacket, and tie, I push him back across the tiled floor several steps until his back slams into the wall and he grunts from the pain.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Beck,” he says, and I pull him away and slam him back again.

“You sick fuck,” I snarl at him. “You just fucking tried to roofie that girl. What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you?”

I am so furious right now I almost feel like I could kill JT. I see the glaze in his eyes from drugs and alcohol, imagine what he would have done to that girl tonight, and I see my entire empire starting to crumble down around me. I see nothing of the man I thought I knew within his fogged gaze. A man that I thought was just like me, but I’m starting to realize was nothing more than a foolish pipe dream.

“Relax, bro,” he says calmly. “It was just to loosen her up.”

“You goddamn idiot motherfucker,” I yell at him, and drop my hands away. I raise one up, point to him, and see it’s shaking. “You are going to bring us down, JT, and I’m tired of this shit. I want you out of this company. I want you gone and you can go do whatever sick, perverted shit goes on in that head of yours away from me, but I’m not about to let you pull me down with you.”

“You can’t force—”

I cut him off by grabbing him again, pulling him away from the wall, and slamming him back into it. His eyes go wide with fear. “Just shut the fuck up. Now I want you to walk your ass out of this hotel and get in a cab and go home. If I see you go back in that ballroom, I’m calling the cops and it’s over for both of us.”

It’s not an empty threat this time. I’m now prepared to do whatever I need to do, ideally to get JT out of The Sugar Bowl, but at the least do what it takes to protect that woman tonight.

“Fine,” he rasps out, and my hands drop. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“You be at the office tomorrow at eight a.m. and be ready to iron this out,” I tell him as I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “This shit is done, JT. I’m not kidding.”

“Fine, okay…whatever,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll get it under control. I promise.”

I point toward the door. “Go home, JT. Now.”

He grabs onto his jacket at the lapel, pulls on the material to straighten it out. He then straightens his tie and nods. He turns toward the door and starts to walk out.