Nine
C onference Room B isn't as big as Conference Room A. While the latter is used for big meetings that are usually more like briefings from company leadership, this room is made for brainstorming. When we’re in here, it’s to strategize and have group discussions with department heads and the key players of Sandcastle. Here, we decide what road the company will travel down, so I know this gathering with Mr. Giovanni will not be like the last one. That was more of an introduction. This is our first real meeting, and I am far more nervous now than I was yesterday.
As anxious as I am, I’m still riding high from my date with Marcus last night. He was such a gentleman our entire time together, and we spent the evening laughing and talking about our careers. To my very pleasant surprise, I enjoyed being around him. While his sense of humor is different from mine, he and I are actually on the same page, especially when it comes to the lifestyle. He’s a Dom looking for a submissive to spend his life with, and I’m a sub in search of a Dominant. We didn't get into anything too specific, and we’re certainly not officially dating yet, but last night was the way I would want any first date to go. I left with a smile on my face and excitement in my heart about seeing him again soon, which quickly turned into heart-racing anxiety about this meeting and being in the same room as Mr. Giovanni. I hate how seeing him and being in his presence once has his image locked inside my mind, even overshadowing Marcus’s adorably bright smile, but I digress.
I can feel the tension in the air—it’s thick, like trying to breathe train smoke—as we await Mr. Giovanni’s arrival again. Every department head is here and so is Sierra, but even she looks nervous. I sit next to her and watch as she twirls her fingers around one another, staring down at her hand with a blank expression on her face. Even when Sandcastle went through a rough period that resulted in a handful of people being laid off a couple of years ago, I never saw the VP look this apprehensive. She timidly glances at the door every now and then before going back to her fingers, and it makes me wonder what kind of conversations the two of them had yesterday as she showed him around.
“You good, Sierra?” I ask with raised brows.
Sierra Martinez and I are strictly coworkers, meaning we don't talk about anything outside of work-related topics. She’s a strong woman who cares about her job and reputation, and I’ve never seen a break in her fa?ade. She went through a divorce about a year ago, and never allowed herself to look stressed or flustered by the drastic change taking place in her life. She came out of it with her head high and her sights set on becoming the world’s best advertising and marketing VP, never even mentioning her personal life to any of us or complaining about how difficult it all was. I would have been impressed if I didn't feel so bad for her. Everyone should be allowed to show emotion sometimes and there is no way she went through all of that without feeling something.
“I’m fine,” she says coldly, keeping her eyes on her fingers.
“You sure? Because you look nervous,” I reply, pushing my locs over my shoulder and sitting up straight. “Everybody in here looks like they're awaiting sentencing.”
Sierra sweeps her flowing black hair out of her face so she can look around the table. She sees the same thing I do. They’re all on edge. Even Simon looks timid, staring at the same spot on the table in his white button-up covered with a navy blue vest. He is the one who is usually most confident, depending on his ability to brown nose to keep him ahead of the pack.
“Everyone will be fine,” Sierra says. “I just … he … he’s intense and difficult to read. That’s all.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I reply. “What is it about him that’s so appealing and terrifying at the same time?”
Sierra whips her head over to me. “You find him appealing ?”
“Don't you?”
We lock eyes briefly, and I see something in hers that knits my brows together. In her glare, there is an intensity that’s brand new. She looked anxious before, but what I see now is not anxiety. It looks a lot more like resentment.
The door swings open, cutting off our little staring contest and drawing our eyes over to Mr. Giovanni as he calmly strides in wearing black slacks and a white button-up of his own. Unlike Simon, he isn’t covering his with a vest. Mr. Giovanni’s highest two buttons are undone, exposing the top of a chiseled chest that has clearly been built by extensive exercise. His sleeves are rolled up to just below his elbow, and I find myself staring at his forearms as he walks in and grabs the chair at the head of the table. Veins pop through his skin and travel from the top of his forearm down to his wrist like a river displayed on a map. It takes real effort to pull my gaze away, only to slowly look up at his face and see his strong jaw and beard pointed right at me. My eyes continue to climb up his face until the moment our eyes meet just as he sits down. It’s like he’s peering into my soul as he settles into the chair.
“ Buongiorno ,” he says.
Fuck.
“Good morning, Mr. Giovanni,” Sierra replies after clearing her throat, greeting him for all of us.
He glances at her very briefly before looking around the room. Each person stiffens and sits up straight when his gaze reaches them.
“This morning, I want to talk about the future,” he finally says. “As I promised yesterday, I spent the evening combing through our contracts, client list, and finances. I’m happy to say that Sandcastle does operate in the positive. We do make a profit. However, as I sifted through our client list, I was not impressed by what I saw. We have tons of contracts with small-time businesses and entities, but nothing that stood out as a landmark contract. So, I will pose my question to you all, the true operators of Sandcastle. Why are we so small? Why do we do business with small-time companies and never make a big splash?”
All eyes turn to Sierra, who swallows hard as her brow furrows.
“Well …” she clears her throat, “Mr. Thomas thought it was important that we continue to partner with local companies to boost the South Philly economy and community. He believed that if we brought in enough clients, then it wouldn't matter how small the contracts were. He would rather have a lot of smaller, local businesses on board than a handful of out-of-town-ones.”
Mr. Giovanni sighs, his eyes falling to the table. “Larry did business that way because it kept the eyes of law enforcement off of him. Smaller businesses are under less scrutiny. It allowed him to launder money through Sandcastle while he gambled and got into debt with the casinos and loan sharks in Center City. It sounds nice to only want to work locally, but how good is it for the local community if the money they spend ends up in a casino in the middle of Philly anyway?”
“Mr. Giovanni,” Sierra begins again, straightening her spine for a fight, but he cuts her off.
“Stop calling me Mr. Giovanni,” he snips. “My name is Rome. Please address me as such.”
Sierra pauses as if she’s worried she is being tested. Mr. Thomas always wanted to be called by his last name. He saw it as a sign of respect for someone his age, but Sierra is forty-one to Mr. Giovanni’s thirty-five.
“Okay. Umm, Rome,” Sierra corrects herself, her face unsure of whether to smile or frown, “Mr. Thom … Larry … Mr. Thomas believed in supporting the local community.”
“He believed in supporting his gambling addiction,” he fires back without hesitation or the slightest bit of emotion. “As a result, Sandcastle barely makes a profit, while Bell Liberty makes more money and attracts top tier clientele. Are you all aware that they landed Nasir Booker?”
“The romance author?” Simon asks, finally pulling some attention away from Sierra, who looks like the pressure of Rome’s inquiry has her ready to run out of the room.
“Yes,” Mr. Giovanni replies sharply. “The New York Times bestselling author, who travels around the world for the promotion of his novels. All of his advertising in Philly and the entire Delmarva area is controlled by Bell Liberty, our direct rival. That doesn't bother any of you?”
Mr. Giovanni goes around the room, locking eyes with everyone, but no one speaks up. More than likely, no one even thought about the competition. If Mr. Thomas didn't make it a point to bring up who the company was competing with, nobody else was going to.
“I have a proposal,” Mr. Giovanni says, not waiting for an answer. “The way Larry wanted to do business has departed with him. He will not return, nor will his way of thinking or his business practices. From now on, Sandcastle will look to rival every company in the industry, especially those on the east coast. We need something new. Something fresh and exciting that shows the clients who haven't already left us by the wayside—thanks to Larry—that we are primed for business and ready to work with major companies who have big pockets. We are no longer in the little leagues, and our next client will have to be big enough to prove that we were not crippled by Larry’s departure.”
Sierra lets out a long breath before asking, “What did you have in mind?”
“There’s a casino coming,” he starts, which immediately makes Sierra’s eyes widen. “It’s called Golden Diamond, and it is scheduled to start construction very soon. This casino is more than just a casino. It’s a hotel, a nightclub, and a venue for concerts, comedy specials, and even musicals. Golden Diamond will invigorate the economy for all of Philadelphia, not just South Philly, and whoever picks them up as a client will have work forever, a flagship deal that will be a beacon for companies looking to expand, and a massive payday big enough to provide bonuses to every employee just in time for the holidays.”
At the mention of money, everyone’s eyes double in size. Silence envelopes the room as people’s faces change. It’s not that any of us were hurting, but there isn't a person in this world that is going to turn down a raise. Mr. Giovanni may be as cold as ice, but he’s clearly smart. He knows how to motivate people, because the tide is already turning in his favor.
“That’s an interesting idea,” Sierra says. “But if I’m not mistaken, that casino is owned by an even more interesting person.”
Mr. Giovanni nods his head, his gaze icing over as he glares at Sierra.
“Wait,” I say, finally speaking up with a raised hand. “Who is it owned by?”
Mr. Giovanni hesitates before sighing and answering, “Nix Malone.”
My eyebrows raise to the top of my face while gasps and muffled moans fill the room with indistinguishable noise.
“Nix Malone?” I answer, my brows sky high. “The same Nix Malone who is a very known affiliate of Solomon King, the biggest, most violent gangster in the city?”
“Yes,” Mr. Giovanni says.
“Sir,” I say with a chuckle. Mr. Giovanni stiffens at the word, making me think he doesn't like it, so I correct myself. “Mr. Giovanni, you said you're from Philly, right?”
“Rome,” he snips. “Call me Rome. That goes for everyone who works here. Now, yes I am from Philly.”
“So you know who Nix Malone and Solomon King are?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I wait for a second to see if Mr. Giovanni … Rome … understands exactly what he is saying. I watch his face, wondering if he truly gets it, but he never wavers.
“Rome, everyone in the city—police, politicians, judges—they all know that Nix and Solomon are gangsters who have never been caught red-handed. Their money is not good money. They make it illegally. Are you sure you want to work with people like them?”
He eyes me carefully, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he scans me. “What’s your name?”
“Nia Washington,” I answer. “I’m the director of marketing.”
“One of two,” Simon quickly chimes in. “I’m the other.”
Rome glances over at Simon with a fiery glare before returning to me.
“Nia,” he says, and I try not to shiver at the sound of my name on his lips. “Nix Malone has never been charged with anything, at least not since he was a teenager. Rumors do not dissuade me.”
“But are they really rumors?” I go on, undeterred. “This is a known thing. They’re just so good at what they do that they haven't been caught yet.”
“Say that again,” Rome demands, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Say what?” I question with a frown.
“The last sentence you said.”
“They’re so good at what they do that they haven't been caught.”
“They haven't been caught doing anything,” he says, driving his point home. “If they haven't been charged with a crime, then what you speak of are just rumors. Club Asylum is owned by Solomon King, and it’s one of the biggest nightclubs in the city, is it not? So big, in fact, that I feel safe in assuming that even you've been there.”
My jaw tightens as I'm forced to answer. “Yes, I have.”
“The companies who do business with Solomon King and his club are not going up in flames, are they? There are no shootouts or police raids at any of his places of business, are there?”
Heat fills my limbs and begins burning toward my heart. “No.”
“Right. And have any of you heard of a five-star restaurant in Center City called The VP?” Rome asks, this time addressing the entire room.
“I have,” Loretta, the brand director admits.
“Good. Do you know who owns it?” Loretta shakes her head. “Nix Malone. He has been the owner of that restaurant since it opened in 2017. It has never been shut down. It has never been found to be involved in any illegal activity. The VP hasn’t so much as failed a health inspection since its doors opened with Nix Malone cutting a giant gold ribbon with photographers snapping shots for the media. Maybe they are what you say they are, but when it comes to business, they clearly know what they’re doing.
“So, Club Asylum and The VP are owned by two well-known criminals ,” he continues, eyeing me directly now. “Yet, neither of those establishments have been named in an indictment or found to be a hub for criminal activity. That’s interesting, because the only company that has been named in an indictment that I’m aware of is the one you work for.”
The room goes silent, and my skin feels like its temperature has skyrocketed to a thousand degrees. Pinpricks stab my face and my heart drums with humiliation as everyone looks at me before looking down at the table, clearly embarrassed for me.
Rome stands up and places one hand on the table. “I know this is new for you all. You're not used to going after bigger fish. But now that there is no illegal activity taking place at Sandcastle, we will not shrink ourselves. We will grow, and we’ll be unafraid of taking risks.”
“This is a really big risk,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Yes, it is, Nia,” Rome replies. “Even if you're not okay with taking it … I am. This is the move I want to make, and I’ll gladly take full responsibility if it goes wrong. If this hurts the company, it will be my fault, not yours. Because I’m in charge. It’s important that you remember that.”
He takes a moment to stare at me, his eyes sparkling with something unreadable before he looks away to address the room.
“We’re going after Golden Diamond. Accept it, brainstorm with your teams, and prepare pitches. Whoever is chosen will pitch directly to Nix Malone … with me. They'll have a chance to land the biggest account in Sandcastle’s history. It’s a huge deal, so I suggest you all get started. See you soon.”
With a final nod of his head, Rome turns on his heel and walks to the door. He places a hand on the handle, pulls it open, and pauses to peer at me one last time before walking out.