Sade’s POV
As I walked with Star and Cheryl, making my way toward our table, I suddenly felt a presence approaching.
I didn’t even have to look.
Patrick Stewart.
A walking STD in designer shoes.
He was a good-looking man, and he knew it—tall, chiseled, always well-dressed—but none of that mattered when he had the personality of a sewer rat. Patrick slept with anything that had legs and a pulse, and even that last part seemed optional.
I forced a polite smile. “Hi, Pat. How are you?”
“Can’t complain,” he said smoothly, eyes shamelessly raking down my body. “But damn, Sade, you look good enough to eat. Can I have a taste?”
I almost threw up in my mouth.
I blinked, my lips parting slightly in disgust. “Um… what?”
He smirked like he actually thought he was charming.
“No, thank you,”
