Dark Queen - Ker Dukey Page 0,5

body because he begged me to give him a chance. Tried to convince me it would change how I feel.

He was right—just not in the way he hoped.

Instead of making me realize I loved him and we could be more, it made me feel cheap, a prize he won at the town carnival. Nothing changed for me. It only reaffirmed what I already knew: there’s no sexual spark between us.

Chemistry can’t be faked or manufactured—and love isn’t negotiable.

He promised it wouldn’t ruin our friendship, but that was a lie. He fucked me because he wanted my body. It wasn’t about him loving me. And worst of all: he thought it was my virginity he was claiming—in a field—at my mom’s wake.

God, he must love me a whole fucking bunch.

Midway through his thrusting, I nearly told him I’d been fucking my coach’s son for nearly two years, but I just wanted the night to be over.

I liked sex, needed the relief from it. Dancing is like foreplay, and the frustration needs an outlet. But I didn’t enjoy it with him. The memory of Clint on top of me, grunting, kissing me while I laid there hating myself, makes my skin itch.

Never again.

That night, while I scrubbed his cum from my thighs, I promised myself I’d start taking care of me—my needs, my wants. No more being someone I’m not to appease the needs of others.

“It’s bullshit, you know?” A girl not much older than me with bright pink hair pulls me from my thoughts. She jerks her chin to the flyer sitting on the seat next to me.

“What is?” My brows draw in. I’ve been on this train for hours and not one person has spoken to me. A creeper stared for a while, but he eventually moved or got off. Not that I want conversation. I’m exhausted.

She reaches for the piece of paper, her gaze roaming over the words as her head jerks from side to side, a sneer on her lips. “They say it’s an open audition, but in reality, Swan School of Dance doesn’t accept nobodies. They invite people they plan to enrol—the rest is just for show.”

My stomach knots. My jaw tenses. Snatching the flyer back, I smile. “Good thing I was invited.” It’s an easy lie that slips right over my tongue, but my eyes betray me as they fill with anxious tears.

If that’s true, I wasted the last of what little money I had coming here. I don’t even have enough to stay in a hotel. It’s why I couldn’t travel the day before the auditions.

Our farm is in debt. It’s a sinkhole that hasn’t sunk yet. I knew coming was a longshot, but there aren’t schools that could offer me a career back home.

Back home…

Oh god. I can’t go back there and end up like mom. Bitter, and cruel.

She had been a dancer when she met my dad. They married young and moved back to his hometown to take over his family farm. She gave up her dancing dream when her real dream happened: having me.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

When I was young, I’d allowed those words to bloom within me, to flourish and nurture me. Eventually, her words turned to angry rants about wasting her youth, her ability, me ruining her body. “It’s never the same after a baby. Don’t make my mistakes.”

“You must be good,” the girl says in a soothing voice, bringing me back from my thoughts. I am good, but am I good enough? Does it even matter?

“Good luck,” she quips, shouldering a duffle bag and heading toward the doors. As the train slows, so does my heartbeat.

This is it.

I’m here.

Chapter Five

Luca

I fucking hate being in the same building as my kid brother. The arrogant, drunk prick grinds my gears, and I don’t have the fucking patience today.

“It’s those motherfuckers opening up new clubs. They want to give ours a bad reputation. It’s not uncommon, Luca.” His voice erratic and slurred. It’s not even lunchtime.

He swipes at his nose, then pinches it to elevate the tingling as he paces my home office floor.

There are multiple wings in this house and yet he always lurks in my damn office spewing out stories he made up in his head to give him a reason to incite violence and chaos.

I like chaos too, but only when it’s warranted and controlled. There’s no room for rash decisions.

“You’re high and not thinking clearly, Antonio. Like fucking usual. Can you not go one day without snorting that shit?”