Eight
“ I can't even explain to you how fine this man is. When he walked in, it was like everything in the room went silent. All breathing stopped. The AC shut off. Lint stopped floating in the air—all to stand still and watch this man enter the building. I was stunned, Jaz. Stunned .”
The gasp my best friend lets out is loud enough to echo in my room even though she’s on the phone, and I nod as if she can see me. I’m glad I described him well enough for her to understand, because Rome Giovanni’s beauty needs to be appreciated. Asshole vibes aside, Jaz wanted to know about the new boss once he finally arrived at Sandcastle, so it was my responsibility to call her the second I got home to give her all of the tea.
“This is not what I expected,” she says over the speaker. “I held out hope that he was at least a nice guy. I wouldn't have thought he’d be a thirty-five-year-old business owner with a gorgeous smolder. So, what was his personality like?”
I finish slipping into my leggings as I answer. “Commanding. When I say this man knows how to own a room, I mean this man knows how to own a room . When he gave his speech at the end of the day, you could hear a pin drop between each sentence. Everybody was locked in while he was speaking. He may have said a few things that made us sit up a little straighter and arch an eyebrow, but he didn't shy away from it.”
“Uh-oh,” Jaz says. “Made you arch a brow? What did he say?”
“He sort of shitted on Mr. Thomas,” I answer truthfully. “Instead of giving him credit for building Sandcastle, he mentioned the indictment and how we've lost a few clients since it happened. People weren’t really feeling that. He also said that he’s demanding. That’s the sort of thing people should learn from working with you, but I guess I can appreciate the warning.”
“A gorgeous, commanding man who owns the room the moment he walks in. Hell, if he’s into BDSM you may want to think about marrying him.”
I scoff before laughing. “There is no way that man is into BDSM. I could only imagine him …”
As the words come tumbling out of my mouth, a thought hits me. I realize as I’m saying it that Mr. Giovanni’s personality is exactly the type I would expect from someone who is a lifestyle Dominant. Not that all Doms are built the same. They certainly have different characteristics that should mesh with their particular version of being a Dom, but if we’re talking stereotypical traits, Mr. Giovanni fits a very specific mold. If I was writing a checklist in my diary, it would include everything I saw him do when he walked into the building. Add on the way he carried himself into the conference room and took control of it with nothing more than self-confidence and body language, and my list would be thorough and complete. But … there’s no way.
“Are you thinking about it?” Jaz inquires, and I can hear every bit of the smugness in her tone. I'm sure she's smiling like the Cheshire cat at this very moment.
“Ugh … no,” I lie, doing my best to shake away the thoughts as I stand in my mirror and contemplate touching up my makeup. “I don't have time to get caught up dreaming about the new boss. I have a real date to get to. No need for imagination.”
“That’s right. I saw your text. Tinder Man finally hit you up. So, where are you guys going?”
“To King’s Cage for drinks,” I reply, dabbing my cheek with a small brush. “I was so excited when I got his message that I actually agreed to meet up tonight .”
“No point in wasting time finding out whether he’s a psycho or not?”
“Facts. So, I’m leaving here in a minute to meet him. Just finishing freshening up.”
“I can't wait to hear how this goes,” Jaz says. “I hope this is a good one.”
“It better be, because my patience with these men is running very thin. Wafer thin, paper thin, on thin ice. Every thin I can think of.”
I finish my touch-ups and pause to do a final assessment before walking to my body mirror to appraise my outfit. Once I’m satisfied, I grab the phone and carry it with me as I head for the door.
“Well, don't let me hold you up,” Jaz says. “Good luck with Tinder Man. Call me if he gets weird and you need me to pull up or ring your phone with a fake emergency.”
“Thanks, girl. I will,” I reply. “And stop calling him Tinder Man. His name is Marcus.”
“If he sticks around and earns the right, then I will call him by his name. Totally up to him. Call me later. Love you, girl.”
I roll my eyes as I laugh. “Love you too.”
Once the call ends, I start up the car, take a deep breath, and head for the highway. Here goes nothing.
“So, what do you do for a living?”
Marcus Graham is every bit as handsome in person as he is on his Tinder profile. He’s tall, at least to me—six feet will always look like a giant compared to my five-five—and he's one of those men who looks fantastic with a bald head. His beard is shaped up and groomed, and when he smiles it’s blinding, his perfectly straight veneers lighting up the room like high beams. As a personal trainer, it’s no surprise that he’s in great shape, with boulder shoulders that stand out in his one-size-too-small-T-shirt, and he has great posture as he sits next to me. He certainly isn’t overdressed in black sweats and a shirt, but neither am I, so no foul there. He smells good, makes direct eye contact, and isn’t afraid to be close to me, leaning in as he speaks. I’d say my first impression of him is a good one. The room didn't stop when he walked in, but he definitely has potential.
“I’m in advertising and marketing,” I reply.
“Oh, nice,” he replies. “I have a friend who also does that. He’s a marketing coordinator at Bell Liberty. Denver Rhoades. You know him?”
I shake my head. “No, but he has a very interesting name. Was he born on the side of the road in Denver?”
Marcus laughs, albeit a little too hard. “That’s a good one. No, he’s from Philly. I’m not sure why his parents named him Denver considering their last name. Anyway, it’s cool that you're into marketing. Do you like it?”
“I like it well enough. I enjoy doing it and it pays a living wage, which is rare these days, so I'm happy with it. What about you? You like being a personal trainer?”
“I do,” he replies. “I was big into fitness before I got into it. I figured it’d be a great life getting paid to do something I already love, so I started training some of my friends. Before long it blew up into a whole client list and business.”
“That’s awesome. What were you doing before you made your passion your business?” I ask, bringing my vodka cranberry to my lips.
“Selling drugs,” Marcus replies, peering at me with a blank stare.
I freeze, my glass pressed against my mouth as I stare at him.
Marcus waits a moment before chuckling loud enough to draw a few eyes over to us. “I’m just messing with you. Wow, you really believed me. The look on your face was intense. No, I wasn’t a drug dealer. I worked at a car dealership. I was a car salesman. I got you, though.”
I take two big gulps of my drink before forcing myself to laugh along with him.
“Yeah, you got me,” I say, hoping it doesn't sound as sarcastic as it feels. “Anyway, how long have you been on Tinder?”
“Not long,” he says before sipping his beer. “I had a relationship end about six months ago, and I took a little time to myself after that. Now I’m back in the game, but I’m not your average guy. I’m into … well, maybe I should just say that I noticed something very specific on your profile that caught my attention.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“In your bio, you wrote, ‘In the lifestyle,’” he says.
I put my drink down and turn to face him. This is the part of the date that I was looking forward to. It’s always cool to go through the generic ice breakers, asking simple questions to not seem too forward or impatient. But it’s the meat and potatoes of the convo that really matter, and this is it.
“You noticed that, huh? Are you into the lifestyle?” I ask. Most people have no idea what we mean when we say “The lifestyle.” If Marcus is into it, he’ll understand. If not, I’ll know there won’t be a second date.
“I am,” he answers confidently. He takes another pull from his beer, emptying it before setting it down and eyeing the bartender for another. “I take it you're a submissive?”
“I am. I take it you're a Dom?”
“Proudly,” he says, full of confidence. “And I’m looking for a submissive woman I can settle down with. I know that it takes time, and I’m at a position in my life where I can finally slow down and have the patience necessary to be in it for the long haul with someone who understands what I need.”
“I see.” I fight to keep from smiling as I go on. “That’s very similar to how I feel about life and love. I’m not getting any younger, but because of what I’m into as a sub and the lifestyle I choose to live, it has become increasingly difficult to find anyone worth my time, energy, and effort.”
“So, you want a man to Dom over you?”
“If he’s worthy of it,” I answer. Now it’s my turn to be confident. “I’m not a weak person. The man I choose to be my Dominant will have to be someone who is even stronger than me. They’ll have to know how to take the lead and know when to, which means they’ll understand when to pull back, too. A D/s relationship is give and take just like a vanilla one. It takes a lot of understanding and wide open communication to pull it off, but if you want it enough and can manage it, it can be the absolute best version of love that there is. That’s what I want. The rest of the world can have their vanilla thing, and the judgmental people who turn their nose up when the word kink is mentioned can keep their toxic relationships and sky high divorce rate. I want a singular person who isn't afraid to immerse themselves in the darkest shade of romance.”
Marcus smiles from ear to ear. “The darkest shade of romance. I like that. I like that a lot actually.” As the bartender finishes refilling his beer, Marcus takes it directly from his hand and raises the glass in the air. “To the darkest shade of romance.”
I grab my cocktail and tap it against his glass. “To the darkest shade of romance.”
We both drink while maintaining eye contact, and I finish mine, loving the fact that this date has gone so well. Maybe this is it. After all this time and plenty of horrible dates to make this seem like a dream come true—is Marcus what I have been looking for?
He sets his drink down and leans in close. “If it’s okay with you, Nia, I’d really like the opportunity to get to know you better. I’d like to spend more time with you. Maybe I can prove myself worthy of being the man you call your Dom.”
I smile as I nod.
Oh, shit. This might really be it.
“Yeah,” I say as my stomach explodes with butterflies. “I think I’d like that, too.”