Page 40 of Sinister Promise

Still, once we opened, every single time the door opened I would be looking up, expecting to see him.

My skin crawled, my stomach twisted, and bile burned at the back of my throat. That I could understand. I could live with terror.

What I couldn't live with was what was underneath it.

Under that terror, something worse lurked.

A dark, shameful heat.

I shoved it away time and time again, burying myself in prep work, scraping the mold off of the fruit garnishes, rinsing the glasses and polishing them enough to look clean, watering down the fresh bottles of liquor for the few well drinks our patrons ordered, and even switching out the kegs under the bar.

I kept myself distracted, busy so I wouldn't thinkabout that dark forbidden heat that burned in my core every time I thought about Pavel walking in.

Part of me wanted him to come in and take me from this hell.

Common sense told me that if he came in here to find me, it wouldn't be to save me.

It would be to kill me. But then why did my stomach drop at the thought he wouldn’t come at all?

Ignoring everything, I lost myself in the tediousness of preparing for my job.

"Alina," Lou called, venom dripping from his voice. I looked over and he tapped his watch. It was just a few seconds till noon.

I nodded and with a deep breath, I slipped my denim overshirt off and tucked it away under the bar.

The cheap satin corset was a size too small, which was intentional to make my tits almost spill out. The ribbon lacing had broken a few weeks into working here, and Lou not only refused to fix it, but docked my pay.

A shoelace was in its place. The rest of my uniform consisted of black shorts that did not cover my ass and fishnet thigh highs with non-slip strips that were holding on for dear life. Soon they would have to be replaced, or I would have to figure out how to adhere more of that non-slip rubber myself. Would hot glue work?

I fluffed up my hair and adjusted my corset to push my tits up even further, and Lou gave me a single nod of what I was sure he considered approval. Then he opened the door, and the first wave of creeps stumbled in.

The usual hollow-eyed zombies had a bit of a pep in their step today, knowing that they could get two beersinstead of their usual one. Most of them were already half drunk and their fingers twitched on the bar top as they watched me move.

I focused on my work, filling beers, sending lunch orders that consisted of little more than grilled cheese and fries back to the kitchen. I ignored the pangs of hunger in my stomach, the last echoes of my hangover throbbing in my temples, and the fear that made the hair at the back of my neck stand on end.

I poured beer after beer, delivered greasy fries, and avoided grabby hands as I stared at the clock like it was a countdown to freedom.

Six hours in this shift, then I was off to find a new second job.

I'd been working almost an hour, losing myself in the familiar rhythm of pouring drinks and riding the line between flirting and being professional with the patrons, when Lou came barreling out of the back room. "Take a bottle of vodka to the champagne room. Now."

"Brand?"

"Whatever is on the top shelf," he said, then stopped and walked over to me, his meaty hand grabbing my arm, squeezing hard enough to make me wince as his thumb caressed my breast.

Lou pulled me closer to him, so he could whisper in my ear, my nose curling at his wretched breath. "Go to the back and grab a bottle of the good shit, not the stuff that we've already watered down for the zombies and vampires that don't know any better."

"Yes, boss," I nodded.

Delivering to the champagne room was not my job.

But I didn't argue.

The faster I got it over with, the sooner I could go back to pretending I was invisible.

Just the woman behind the bar that served their drinks while they stared at the women dancing on the center stage.

I grabbed the bottle and walked toward the private lounge, pushing past the curtain.

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