Page 50 of A Good Girl's Guide to Dominance
“Rome isn't about what?” a different voice asks, startling both me and Jeremiah. We turn our attention to the doorway and find Rome standing over the threshold.
“Oh … umm, nothing,” I stammer, trying to backpedal and making myself look even more guilty of talking shit about my boss.
Rome grins at me before looking at Jeremiah. “Can I speak to Nia alone for a second?”
“Of course,” Jeremiah says. He flashes the most ridiculous smile at me before spinning around and walking out, leaving Rome and I alone in my office for the first time since we had sex in it.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, leaning back in my seat and doing my best to put on a stoic face.
Rome looks incredible as always, flawlessly dressed and locking me in place with his unwavering eye contact, but I force myself to remember the pep talk from the car. Rome is just a player who is only sure about how much sex he wants. How convenient for him to be sure about that but nothing else. I can't fall for it again, no matter what he says. If he’s unsure about me, I will be sure that he isn't for me.
Rome walks up to my desk and places a hand on it. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”
My eyes widen to twice their size. “Huh? Apologize for what?”
“For being so ridiculous and switching back and forth on you the way I have been.”
I gasp, stunned by what he just said and the sincerity with which he said it.
“I've been through a lot,” he continues. “And I can admit that I'm not good at trusting people. There's a lot more to me than meets the eye, and I'm sure there's much more depth to you than I'm able to see while working here at the office. I want to explore that depth, Nia. I want to get to know you much better, and I want you to know me. Hopefully, once we get to know each other on a deeper level, you and I can take our relationship to the next level. At least, that's what I'd like to try to do. I guess what I'm asking for is the opportunity to earn you. Can I do that?”
I swallow hard, shocked into complete bewilderment that keeps my words chained up and unable to escape my mouth. First there was the mountain of praise in public, and now this. He wants to earn me? Ugh. How the hell am I supposed to say no to that? I remember the pep talk, but his speech was so much better than mine, and he looks so good in his matching navy blue outfit that fits him to perfection, displaying the roundness of his muscles and flatness of his stomach. Goddamn it, I don't want to keep going back and forth on this, but he’s so impossible to resist.
Nodding, I take a deep breath and try to remain focused.
“Okay, Rome,” I say. “You've left me confused a lot, and I haven't been sure what to do with that. However, I won't lie to myself and say that I'm not interested in learning about you and what makes you the way that you are. I do, but I won't allow you to keep switching up on me. Okay? If this is you telling me that you want to try to be with me for real, then let this be it. Try now, or forever hold your peace. So, you're sure about this?”
Rome licks his lips, swallowing hard before answering. “I'm one hundred percent sure. Are you?”
“I am if you are.”
He smiles, and not just a half smile or a smirk, but a full beam from ear to ear. “Good, then are you free for dinner tonight? I'd like to treat you to a real Italian meal.”
I fight back a smile of my own, not wanting to show too much joy even though I feel it.
“Yes, I'm free tonight,” I reply. “Where and when did you have in mind?”
Rome turns to the side, preparing to walk out.
“Eight o’clock tonight,” he answers. “At my place.”
Twenty-Six
When I arrive at the address Rome sent to me, I’m taken aback at the house as I pull into its stone driveway. The exterior is black on one side and colored brick on the other. The black, white, and gray bricks mesh perfectly with the all-black overhangs and columns that hold up the balcony overlooking the front of the house, and the underside of the balcony is covered in orange lights that glow like tiny fires. It’s clear that the designer had an infatuation with windows, because the face of the home is covered in them, some as tall as twelve feet high. It’s gorgeous and completely modern, and I find myself wondering what Rome was really into before he purchased Sandcastle from Mr. Thomas. Like Rome, the house is luxurious, well-kept, and intimidating. Even his house gives off Dom vibes.
The front door is glass with an expansive black frame, and as I approach it I see Rome walking to meet me. He’s dressed in black pants and a white V-neck T-shirt, looking absolutely delectable as he places his hand on the door and pulls it open.
“Buonasera,” he says with a smile. He has been flashing that smile a lot more lately and I'm obsessed.
“Hi,” I reply.
Rome steps to the side and opens the door all the way, extending a hand to help me with the small step inside. “I'm glad you're here. Come on in. You look incredible.”
A smile bullies its way onto my face as I look down at my outfit, as if I could forget that I chose to wear a white and burgundy dress that showcases a little cleavage and hugs my hips in a death grip. The back is open, but my bare skin is covered by the length of my locs, and I haven't had a reason to wear this dress in far too long. I'm hoping that tonight is the occasion I have been waiting for.
“Thank you,” I reply, beaming. “You look great, yourself. Somehow you make a simple combination of a V-neck and slacks look like something from a GQ photo shoot.”
Rome pauses to smile—and is that blush I see?
