It's been four hours since I signed the contract; I don't know why the hell did I do it when we can just skip it and arrange this by ourselves. The legal fee, the membership fee, whatever fee there is, instead of throwing money like that Owen could've just given me those.
Seriously, even the sugar babies need to pay the hefty fee, I wonder how much the daddies spend for their membership.
"Owen will be here shortly," the hostess says once we reach a door, "You can wait for him inside."
"Inside?" I thought she's leading me to a private table or something, not a hallway with a few doors on each side.
"Yeah, this is his office."
Oh? I've always thought he'd only be in the kitchen considering he's a chef but to read the sign on the door, wow. Do chefs really have their own office? Or it's
