Page 10 of Immortal Throne

CHAPTERFOUR

Itugged my white blouse down, straightening the creases, and stood in front of the overly wide and shiny receptionist desk. The makeup caked on my face to hide the fading bruises and the cut on my cheek suffocated my skin. After all these years of fighting, my makeup application hadn’t improved. Didn’t help that I’d rather be drenched in sweat trying to choke some bitch out than putting on foundation and working a “real” job.

“Sloane Davis, from the temp agency.” The agency had told me to go to the top floor of this building and check in.

The blonde woman behind the counter with a tight bun and perfectly painted face glanced up from the computer screen, her expression blank and emotionless. “Mr. Dante will see you now. Go straight through.”

I nodded and walked past the desk to a large set of double doors. My hindsight prickled over my skin, warning me of danger. With my hand resting on the metal handle, I hesitated. I usually listened to my instincts, but this was a bona fide posting from the temp agency. How bad could it be?

I glanced over at the front desk and the receptionist bobbed her head.

Well, now or never. I needed this job—well, at least I used to need it. Now, I wasn’t so sure. What I really wanted to do was travel to Europe. Or sit on an island beach somewhere in the Caribbean. Have a few one-night stands with some questionable characters…

But even with death breathing down my neck, that still wasn’t me. It wasn’t who I was. Or who I wanted to be. Besides, if I had any hope of carrying out even one thing on my bucket list, I needed a healthier bank account. Losing that fight had really set me back.

Everything from my recent doctor visit came hurtling back to the surface—all the fear, anger, and uncertainty I had suppressed since the diagnosis. The emotions smacked me upside the head harder than any blow the Irishman could’ve thrown at me.

I staggered to the side and struggled to catch my breath. My hindsight rang incessantly in my head now.

Yeah, I got it. Dying.

I clenched my teeth together and hissed. No. Just…no. I refused to let this happen. I refused to be weak.

Instead of crumbling to the floor and sobbing like I really wanted to, I pulled the door open and let the cool air wash over me before stepping into the large office.

A man in a suit twirled a pen in his hand. His back facing the door, he stood stiffly and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows. When the door snicked shut behind me, he turned around.

My stomach dropped.

Tall, with broad shoulders, his sheer size was intimidating enough, but it was his breathtaking beauty making me gasp for air. Black hair as dark as a starless night sky framed his chiseled face in soft waves. Smooth, tanned skin, sharp cheekbones and a straight nose made him look like a statue.

Or a vengeful god.

He made me want to do all sorts of things without even thinking. I’d have to reconsider that whole “out of my comfort zone, one-night stands” thing.

Or, if I was lucky, then the “sleeping with my boss” thing too.

“My name is Sloane.” I licked my lips and somehow managed to find my voice, even if it did come out a little more breathy than usual. “I’m the temp.”

He didn’t respond right away, probably put off by how I ogled him like a three-tier chocolate cake. His jacket hung open, revealing a crisp white shirt pressed flat over what had to be chiseled abs.

My heartbeat picked up a little faster. I’d never wanted to jump someone's bones so fast in my life. This was new for me.

“I expected someone else.” When he finally spoke, his deep voice sounded like rough sex in a club bathroom stall. Or, at least, that’s how I’d imagine it would sound like.

“Becca was unable to take the job, so they sent me instead.” I finally met his emerald-green gaze and sucked in a breath.

This wasn’t a man who just laid eyes on the hired help for the first time. This wasn’t a look of surprise or welcome. Or even disappointment.

Nope. Not my luck. Pure, unfettered hatred stared back at me.

Icy fear clamped onto my spine and froze me in place. The sense of impending doom from earlier returned, and my hindsight tingled to the point of shaking my limbs.

He clutched the pen in his hand so hard it snapped under the pressure. His loathing, even from this distance, was palpable. It lay heavy in the air. He might’ve met me today, but one thing was very clear.

He hated me.

“What…how will I be assisting you today?” I asked.

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