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“Sorry.”
His gaze darkened and remained silent, sending an eerie chill down her spine.
“I was just going to see Sloane.”
“Sir,” he snapped.
Dahlia blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“You address me as sir. Surely a club whore knows her place.”
What the fuck? The last thing Dahlia needed was a confrontation with someone in power, but his anger and disgust weren’t warranted. Or were they?
“Have I done something…”
He laughed mockingly. “Oh, I’ve seen everything you’ve done. Not sure what kind of barback you make, but a hell of a good little whore.”
Dahlia rarely felt regret or embarrassment over any of her life decisions. Why should she? They were hers, and at any given point, they were exactly what she wanted to do. Somehow, his judging tone with his perceived underlying insight left her second-guessing, and she was on the verge of humiliation.
“Well, fucking go already,” he snapped.
She sucked in a breath and slowly nodded. The vibe coming from this man, along with the utter disdain, was enough to force her into compliance. Dahlia wasn’t one to take bullshit from anyone, but he was technically her manager, and in turn, her boss. The last thing she needed was to get fired.
Rod stared down at her for another few seconds until he bypassed her, nudging her arm. Asshole. It took Dahlia a minute to gather herself and continue down to Sloane’s office. She knocked and pressed her ear against the door. Once she heard Sloane’s welcome, she rushed inside, closing the door behind her.
“Sloane.” Dahlia rushed to the edge of the desk, ignoring Aaron, who was standing across the room. “Why am I in the balcony?”
It didn’t make any sense if this was such a coveted spot. Dahlia had worked her butt off, and those around her had told her she was doing a good job, but any advancement seemed premature. She hadn’t even finished up a month at the Bowery. There was only one logical answer. Sloane had pulled some strings.
“If this is going to cause any issues, then just move me back. I’ve only been here a few weeks, and I know we’re friends, but I’m not looking to make enemies. And I don’t want everyone upset with you for showing me special treatment.”
Sloane shared a look with Aaron, which gave her the indication they’d been speaking about this very topic when she stormed their office.
“When I said it was a request, it wasn’t mine.” Sloane grasped her hips and rocked side to side. “I think you’re doing a great job, Dahlia, and in a year, if you had come to me wanting to work the balcony, I would have gone to bat for you, but I don’t make those decisions.”
What? If not Sloane, then who?
“Someone requested me?” Dahlia rested her hand on her chest, riddled with disbelief. There could only be a few viable options. Sloane, who just admitted it wasn’t her. Rod, who showed her nothing but disdain. And…
“Trey?”
Sloane slowly shook her head. “It was Rogue.”
Rogue? The same man who’d demanded she be fired a few weeks ago was now requesting her as his personal bartender? Oh fuck, this is not good.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Usually, servers and bartenders are here for a minimum of eighteen months before they’re even considered for the balcony.”
“But I’ve only been here a few weeks.”
Sloane tightened her lips, the corners of her eyes crinkled, and she shrugged. “I guess you made an impression on him.”
A chill washed over Dahlia, along with a flipping belly and nausea setting in. This was not good. In fact, it was really bad. The last place she needed or wanted to be was anywhere near Rogue. There was only one plausible reason why he’d want direct contact with her in her position. He’s going to fuck with me until I’mfired. Dahlia dragged her hand over her face, shaking her head. How had she not seen this coming? She was a fool for thinking a man like him would let it go after the altercation with him and Trey.
“Is there any way I can get out of it?”
Sloane shrugged with a sympathetic smile, scrunching her face. “Quit?”
