Waking up to my sin
It was blood-red, dangerously tight, and felt less like a garment and more like a target.
"Don’t just stand there like a statue, Leona," my mother, Betty, snapped from the doorway. She was nursing a glass of bourbon, her eyes scanning me with a calculated greed that made my stomach turn. "Dante is a powerful man with a very specific set of tastes. He’s paying enough to clear our debts and then some, so don't you dare give me that 'bitch ass' attitude tonight. You’re going to smile, you’re going to be charming, and you’re going to do exactly what he says."