Page 26 of A Good Girl's Guide to Dominance
“I’m sure you can guess,” I say, angling my head down to cut my eyes up at him.
“Ah, the client himself.”
“Bingo.”
“But you pushed your way past it and had a productive morning. That's what it’s all about. I knew you could do it, and I’m sure your pitch will be phenomenal. Can’t wait to hear it.”
“Well, I appreciate your faith in me, even when I wasn't sure I had it in myself,” I say, to which Rome licks his lips and makes me feel off balance when I'm not even moving.
“Of course,” he says. “I see something in you, Nia. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but whatever it is, it makes me believe that you're special. Not everyone has the level of passion that you possess. I’m the same way, really. Sometimes it gets in my way and I have to take a step back in order to figure out how to use it to my advantage, but once I put it all together, I feel unstoppable. I think I see the same thing in you.”
My eyebrows lift. “Wow. I’m not even sure how to respond to a compliment like that, but I do appreciate it. You're very observant.”
“Only with things that earn my attention,” he replies, his eyes magnetized to mine.
I drop my gaze to the floor, because keeping eye contact with him can be overwhelming. He's so good-looking it should be a crime. Why is he allowed to walk the streets while looking like this? Plus, he seems to say all of the right things. Who does that?
When I look up at him again, I decide that this is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for, and if I don't do it now, I might not get another chance to find out. He seems to be in a good mood, even a little flirty if I’m being honest—so why not do it now and find out once and for all? Nervousness creeps up my neck with tiny fingers coming to choke me, but I lift my head and force the words past their grip.
“You have to stop,” I say.
Rome tilts his head. “Stop what?”
I let out a sigh, stand up straight as if I'm preparing for battle, and keep talking. “You have to stop looking at me like that.”
His head stays tilted as his eyebrows knit together. “Likewhat?”
“Likethat,” I answer firmly. “Maybe you don't know that you do it, but I highly doubt that. You have a certain look, and it … affects me.”
“I have a look that affects you?” he asks as if he can’t believe what I just said.
“Yes, Rome,” I reply. I’m too far gone to pull it all back now, so I take a deep breath and dive into the deep end. “Look, I’m a submissive woman, and that look on your face is a prime example of what I’d expect … and want … from a dominant man. It’s alluring. It’s attractive. It’s fucking intoxicating, and you're my boss so you have to stop looking at me like that, because it’s driving me a little crazy.”
Rome stops moving like my words have just frozen him solid. He gawks at me, his eyes large, round, and unblinking, and I swear I can see the gears grinding in his mind, screeching to a smoky halt as everything falls apart. I don't have to be a psychologist to know that I’ve clearly dismantled whatever he has been thinking by admitting to him that I’m a submissive. Without him saying another word, I know that I already have my answer. Rome isnotinto BDSM, and he most certainly isn’t into me.
“You’re a … submissive?” he manages to ask through a tightly clenched jaw.
“Yes,” I admit proudly. Just because he isn't into it doesn't mean that I'm required to be ashamed. “So, I think it’s best if you could just stop gazing at me like that, and then I can stop wondering what thoughts you have lurking behind those eyes of yours. I don't mean to be rude, and it’s clear that I've rattled you a bit with this admission. I apologize for that, but I just need you to stop for my sake. Okay?”
As if a spell has finally been broken, Rome’s eyes fall off of me and drop down to the floor. I have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking, but he looks like a man who just watched his life flash before his eyes—like I just ruined a plan he’d been working on his entire life and he’s watching it all come crumbling down before he could even begin to carry it out.
Seeing this broken expression on his face doesn't make me feel good. I may be proud of who I am and the lifestyle that I’m into, but I’m also still a woman in search of the type of love and happiness that would make my world complete. Learning that Rome, like everyone else I’ve been into, will not be the one for me is like a cramp in my stomach—I can walk around fine, but I still feel it, and it fucking hurts.
I watch him slowly nod his head, accepting the shocking revelation.
“Okay,” he says.
Both sad and satisfied, I grab my stuff and utter a final word. “Okay.” Then I leave Rome and his thoughts in the breakroom to entertain themselves.
Fifteen
Sitting in the same conference room as Rome after telling him to stop staring at me two days ago is difficult for more than one reason. On one hand, it’s a challenge to sit so close to a man who looks like Rome, knowing I seemed to have fractured his mind by admitting that I am a submissive. The simple fact that he has that information is enough to cover my skin with goosebumps every time he saunters into a room. I've always been loud and proud of the fact that I'm in the lifestyle, but there's something abouthimknowing that fills my mouth with saliva, and I have to keep swallowing it when I see him. I could quench my own thirst with how much I'm gulping now, because we are only separated by two chairs once again, and I can smell his cologne from here. Not to mention that he's especially stunning today, having the audacity to wear all-white—pants and a V-neck shirt that shows off his chiseled chest like artwork at a gallery. It’s fitting, really. Rome truly is a work of art.
On the other side of this arduous situation is the fact that I have to keep my head down with my eyes laser-focused on the wood table in front of me. It’s not because I have a pain in myneck that keeps me locked in place, or because there is anything interesting on the table. It is simply because after the break room incident Rome absolutely has not stopped staring at me. Every time I look up, our eyes are somehow drawn together. There is suddenly a powerful magnetic field between us, and his brown eyes keep pulling me in. Even when I manage to stare straight ahead, I can feel his gaze on me like the sun beaming through a magnifying glass and burning a hole right into my skin. His intense glare causes a sizzle that forces me to look his way, and the next thing I know, we’re in a goddamn staring contest.
I don't understand it. When I first told Rome that I was a submissive, I watched him deflate. I witnessed the moment wind was taken out of his sails. His beautiful eyes suddenly lost some of their luster, and the intensity in his gaze drastically turned down, becoming nothing more than a whisper. Now, it’s on full blast. Why? He clearly wasn’t into it, so what is the point of gawking now? I hate it, and the fact that I find it so unbelievably alluring only makes matters worse. This is the morning of pitch wars. How the hell am I supposed to focus with him staring at me like that? Here’s an even better question; why doesn't he look at anyone else the way he does me?
I've been working on the Golden Diamond pitch for a week now, combing the internet in search of anything I could find about the amenities of the hotel and casino in a desperate attempt to find a platinum needle in a haystack. I had to push my discomfort aside so that I could work my hardest, because Nix Malone could never make me want to do less than my best. Contrary to how it all began, I want this account. I’ve always been good at crafting pitches, and I want today to be no different. I’m a competitive person, no doubt, but I’m also intrigued by the idea of pitching my campaign to Nix Malone with Rome sitting next to me. He said that whoever he choseto deliver the pitch would do so with him, and there’s a part of me that is dying to see him in action. I imagine his ability to command a room would work wonders in the field, at least that's the answer I give when I question why I want to work more closely with him.
