Page 7 of Throne of Sin

“What happened to the boy next door?”

I give her a cruel smile. “He grew up.”

Demi

I ignore his intimidating stance. “Please, Dante,” I beg, dragging him to the chair before pushing him down into it. My music continues to play in the background and I try to get back into the right head space. The room is smaller than it felt before and my heart is beating like crazy. Keeping my head up high, I force my pride to stay intact and swivel my hips, trying to show him I can dance, that I’ll make him proud.

He stands up and grabs my wrists, his fingers biting into my skin. “I’m not interested in something I’ve already had,” he seethes.

I should have expected Dante’s harsh words. His eyes have hardened over the years, making him no longer resemble the boy I once knew. I hate knowing that I had anything to do with the transition from the boy I grew up with to the man standing before me. He doesn’t have to tell me he thinks I ghosted him by never returning. It was never that simple. Our connection never was.

But he’d told me he loved me and I left him anyway.

My mind is forced back to our past when my mother would send me out once a week to sell my body. Each week I came back with the two hundred bucks Dante gave me. Every time I came over, I saw it killed him a little more. It strained our friendship and I never felt like I deserved more.

“I need this job. I’ve never asked you for anything before.” Tears glisten in my eyes. If my mother could see me right now, she would call me pathetic. I’m weak and desperate. “Do it for the girl who lived next door.”

A sarcastic laugh rips from his throat. “You stopped being that girl on your eighteenth birthday. That’s the day you stopped being my friend and I became the guy who dug you out of holes.” He shakes his head, releasing my wrists. “You never had to ask me for anything because I loved you so much; I did it before you had to ask.”

Tears leak over my dark lashes, making him appear blurry. “I’m a hard worker.”

“Every time you snuck into my bedroom for sex, did I make you feel like a whore?” His voice starts soft and grows louder. A sob breaks free of me. “Answer me Demi!”

I shake my head, trying to gain my voice back. “No. You never made me ask, and I’d always find the money in my pocket once I got home.”

“What did I promise you when your father hit you for the last time?”

I can’t stop my crying. I have blocked out so much of this, thinking it was better to forget than to live with the memories. I shrug my shoulders, still crying.

“You don’t even fucking remember.” He scoffs. “How much money do you need to make?”

Dante is pacing back and forth in front of me. His eyes no longer light when they see me. Instead, they look mean.

“I need four thousand a month.” I hiccup.

“What type of interest are you paying? I’m better off buying you, and then you can work it off for me.” He stops pacing and turns to me. “Give me the name and I’ll fix this.”

The thing is, he can’t fix this problem and I can’t bear any more disappointing looks from him.

“Do I have the job? It’s a yes or no, Dante.” I’m finally able to stifle my tears. “Like you said, you can’t be saving me from every problem I land myself in.”

“Four thousand? No dancer of mine makes that by just dancing.” For the first time, his eyes soften and pity makes its way into his stare. I hate it.

“Yes or no, Dante?” I hold my ground, trying to stiffen my legs as they tremble. If I stand here much longer, I’m going to fall to the ground and curl up to cry my troubles away.

“I can’t get you four thousand, and you’ll sell your pussy over my dead fucking body. I didn’t do what I did back then for you to run right back to it.” He points his finger at me.

“Can you give me a job? That’s all I’m asking. I’ll figure out the money thing after.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his muscular biceps stretching the fabric of his collared shirt.

“Clean up your face and then go see Sienna at the bar. It will be up to her. She’s the one who does the hiring.” He walks out, slamming the door behind him.

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to calm myself down. Nothing is helping. If I open my mouth to speak, I’ll end up crying all over again. There’s no way Sienna will hire me if I’m on the verge of a panic attack.

I leave the room, not even glancing at the bar, and rush out of the building.

Chapter 4

---