Page 25 of A Good Girl's Guide to Dominance
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll test the waters, but I’m telling you all, he’s not a Dom. He may act like one and carry himself like one, but that's just because he's a man who’s in charge. He owns the company. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
“And what if there is more to it than that?” Jaz asks.
“There’s not.”
“But what if there is?”
We lock eyes, both of us knowing what it could mean if Rome was a Dom and he and I hit it off. Jaz just wants what’s best for me. She wants to see me happy just as much as I want to be happy. She has always been in my corner and the foundation I could stand on when I felt like I was losing my footing. I trust her, and the look in her eyes tells me I should go for it.
I let out a long sigh.
“Then I guess we’ll see what happens,” I say. “But I’m not holding my breath.”
Fourteen
I've been on pins and needles the entire day. As I try to occupy my time with research into Nix Malone, I find myself taking unnecessary breaks to step into the doorway of my office just to steal glances at Rome as he works in his. He sits at his desk in black slacks with a matching tailored button-up fastened by silver buttons. His hair is neatly styled as usual, as is his beard that he keeps fairly short.
I wonder if he knows how god-like he is. He moves about his business as if it's the most important and least important thing in the world to him, reviewing documents with Sierra with a face that looks both intrigued and impartial simultaneously. When she asks questions, he doesn't respond with suggestions. He's direct and straight to the point, like his way is the only way—she doesn't have an option unless he tells her she does. Fuck. He's mesmerizing … and all I can think about since I left Jaz and Michael’s house last night. Thanks to them, my heart pounds and rattles my internal organs every time I look at him, wondering when I’ll get the chance to make my move.
What even is my move? How will I know when it’s time to make it? Damn it. I should've never listened to them. Now I’m stuck until I know for sure that he’s not interested in me.
Between the ridiculous and unnecessary trips to my door to look at Rome, I do manage to get work done. I spend some time with Jeremiah, going over ads from previous years that Sandcastle has done for other businesses, but finding that none of them were related to gambling—probably because Mr. Thomas was already involved with it behind closed doors and didn't want to be seen aligning himself with it publicly in any way. So, there’s not much to go on as far as related campaigns are concerned, but at least I know I’ll get to create something fresh. Four other teams are prepping pitches, and while I don't like anything about Nix Malone, I want to win the pitch wars. I decide that in order for me to pitch this properly, I have to let go of my preconceived notions about Nix. It isn't about him. It’s about the customers who will make the casino everything that Nix hopes it will become. Once I clear my head and heart of frustration about Nix, I see a clear vision and begin working toward it.
“Hey, Jeremiah,” I shout from my desk loud enough for Jeremiah to hear it at his cubicle. In a few seconds he's standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “Make sure we don't put Nix’s name on any part of this pitch.”
“You don't want to mention the owner?” Jeremiah asks.
“Not once,” I answer. “I've got a feeling that other people will aim their pitch toward him because everyone knows who he is and what his reputation is, which would attract a certain kind of person. It’s sort of like Club Asylum—everyone knows that it’s owned by Solomon King, so going there feels like stepping into a jungle full of wild animals. You're on edge the entire time because you know there are dangerous people lurking. Well, that's the last thing I want for this pitch. It is not ourjob to attract rich criminals to this casino. We want to attracteveryone. So that will be the foundation of our pitch. No Nix Malone.”
Jeremiah looks up at the ceiling, thinking it over.
“Okay,” he says, nodding. “No Nix Malone.”
He walks away and I spend the next hour crafting a pitch around Golden Diamond and its prestige. I get into the zone, and the only thing that pulls me out of it is when I see people in the bullpen getting up and walking out.
Lunch time.
Proud of the direction of the pitch and how much work I managed to get done, I get up from my desk and head to the breakroom. I know I have a turkey sandwich waiting for me there, and I plan to bring it back to my office and close the door to enjoy it. I take my time, walking slowly so that most of the people who go into the breakroom have already filtered out by the time I arrive. By the time I leave my office, half the building has cleared out, while the other half are enjoying their lunch hour at their desk.
I make my way into the breakroom and find only two people in it, which is better than the handful I usually have to force my way through. As I enter and open the fridge, both of them leave while my hand is reaching in to grab my sandwich, and I smile when I find myself alone. I know I’m not the only one who likes life better when there are less strangers in my presence. I open my carrying case to make sure that the sandwich is still safely inside along with my chips, drink, and a side of turkey gravy. Once I'm satisfied that I haven't been stolen from, I turn to leave … only to come face to face with Rome as he enters the room.
My pulse quickens to a blistering pace as we make eye contact, and while I'm worried that my eyes are bulging out of my head, Rome is as calm as ever. His unfazed demeanor doesn't waverfor a second as he walks in, his eyes staying on me as he comes to a stop at the fridge and grabs the handle.
“Good morning, Nia,” he greets me, his deep voice like a massage to my ears.
“Good morning, Rome,” I reply, stepping to the side even though he’s not even close to me.
I watch him reach into the refrigerator and grab something to drink. He cracks open the can, spins around, and leans against the counter, his eyes on me like a predator watching its prey.
“So,” he says before I manage to force myself out of the room. “How’s the Golden Diamond pitch coming along?”
I clear my throat to give myself an extra second to gather my thoughts as memories of last night flood my mind like tsunami waves. Is this it? Is this the moment I test the waters with Rome and see if he's into BDSM?
“Uhh, it’s going well,” I reply honestly. “I had a little trouble at first, but I think I may have had a breakthrough this morning. Jeremiah and I are making progress and I’ll be ready to go for pitch wars.”
The side of Rome’s mouth lifts, but not fully. Why does he seem to work so hard at denying me his smile?
“That’s great,” he replies with a nod. “What was the trouble you were having?”
