Eleven
I ’ve spent the last two days scrounging up every bit of information I can find on Nix Malone and his dealings. To my surprise, he has his hands in a few things I never knew about, including a foundation he set up for needy children in Strawberry Mansion. At first, I thought it was a front—something he used to launder his money to make it even harder to track. I figured a man like him would have no problem lying on kids to further his own agenda. However, after doing a little digging, it turns out that the foundation is real and it helps thousands of kids in Nix’s hometown eat lunch at school every day. It doesn't make up for the fact that he is rumored to have robbed multiple banks and made a few of his enemies vanish into thin air, but not everything about him is all bad … I guess.
I’ve also gone the last two days without saying a word to Rome. As we prepare our pitches to present to him, everybody is busy with work. There have been no meetings or accidental run-ins in the breakroom between him and I. Nothing significant has happened since he called me a good girl, which truly annoys me. I guess he’s not as into me as Jeremiah thought he was.
The only thing of significance that has happened in my life is Marcus. He and I have texted back and forth the past two evenings after work, and I remain pleasantly surprised by how well it’s going. He’s such a sweet guy and I can tell we’re getting a little closer. We’re developing a few inside jokes and are becoming more comfortable trading sexual innuendos. It’s obvious that he likes me, which is why I smile when I look at his face as he sits next to me at Empire Tavern.
The bar is unusually crowded for a weekday. Country music blares from the speakers while people fill the room with the sound of conversation and good times. A dance floor in an adjacent room is filled to the brim with people doing whatever jig accompanies this song, and the smell of beer and vape smoke fills the air as Jeremiah finishes off his first beer of the night. He sets the glass down with a thud and signals for a refill to the bartender, who is busy with customers on the far side.
“I wish he would hurry,” Marcus says.
“He’s just busy,” I reply. “You looking to catch a decent buzz after a bad day at the office? Or should I say gym?”
Marcus grins. “Nah, I don't really have bad days at the office, Kitten. I think I love my job too much to have a bad day. I just like to play hard after I work hard. How about you? You’ve barely touched that Long Island iced tea.”
My fingers tighten around the cold glass of my drink. “I see. But isn't drinking counterproductive to working out?”
He nods with a playful shrug. “It is, but don't let this fool you. I don't drink often. In fact, the last time I had a drink was when you and I went on our first date. Coming out with you is an occasion worth drinking for. It’s like a celebration.”
I want to smile, but it evades me.
“Thanks,” I say. “As far as my day is concerned, it was just more of the same. I’m filling my time with research into the infamous Nix Malone. I have to prepare a pitch to try to land him as a client.”
“Nix Malone. The Nix Malone?”
I nod. “Yeah. The one and only.”
“Damn. Your boss is hardcore for trying to reel him in.”
“My boss is definitely … something.”
Marcus chuckles. “Not a fan?”
“I don't know. It’s honestly too early to tell since he just took over a few days ago. We’ll see how the pitches go. If we don't bring in the client, that will tell us all we need to know about him and his temperament. So, time will tell.”
“True. In the meantime, how about you sip some more of that drink.”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Graham?”
“Nah, I would never,” he says, playfully, gesturing toward himself. “I’ve never been that guy. I’m the guy who is much more concerned about your well-being. I’m usually asking totally different questions.”
“Oh? I’m intrigued. What kind of questions do you ask?”
“Well, Kitten, how much water did you drink today?” he asks.
I try my absolute best not to get hung up on the fact that he has called me Kitten twice, but it is a struggle.
“Umm, not much,” I answer. “Maybe a little around lunch time.”
“Oh. See? That won't do. You have to take better care of yourself, Kitten. Hey, bartender!” Marcus suddenly shouts. The bartender finishes with another two customers before making his way over to us. “Geez, man. You’ve been ignoring this side of the bar. Anyway, can I get another beer, and some water for my girl? Thanks.”
I twist my lips together as frustration makes me tense.
“Wow,” I say, doing my absolute best to stay jovial. “Being a little presumptuous, aren't you?”
“Just looking out for my girl’s health,” he replies, all confidence. The bartender brings the beer and water and sets them down in front of us. “Here, drink this instead.” Marcus slides my Long Island iced tea away, and pushes the water in front of me.
The muscles in my face become rigid like plaster has replaced my skin, and heat rises from my belly like a furnace. I didn't ask for water, I hate the pet name Kitten, and if I order an alcoholic beverage, I’d like to finish it.
Against my better judgment, I take a small sip from the water. “Yeah, that’s great and all, but I'm going to finish the Long Island, especially since you paid for it.” I pull the glass of alcohol back over.
Marcus navigates my barbed wire scowl with a playful smile. “That’s cool, that's cool. Just know that once you and I are officially together, if Daddy says drink the water, you're going to drink the water.”
“Daddy?” I exclaim with eyebrows as high as the clouds.
“Yeah, that’s what I like to be called.”
“Are you a Daddy Dom?”
Marcus’s forehead turns into a graphic display of wrinkles. “What do you mean?”
“Are you into DD/lg?”
“I don't know what that is,” he replies. “Do I have to know in order to like being called Daddy?”
I shrug, but I’m much more bothered than the gesture suggests. “I guess not. Daddy has become a name that plenty of guys like to be called. All I’m saying is that I’m personally not into the DD/lg vibe. I don't do age regression or anything like that.”
“You think I want you to call me Daddy because I’m into age regression? It has nothing to do with that.”
“I didn't say it did,” I snip. “I’m just letting you know about the Daddy Dom, little girl dynamic since you said you didn't know what it was.”
“It’s not that deep,” he fires back, his face flushing with annoyance. “I just like being called Daddy. Let’s not make it an issue, Kitten.”
The world tumbles off his tongue once again, and it is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I snap, gesturing wildly with both hands.
“Jesus, what’s the big deal?” Marcus questions, clearly angered by the quick change of tone. “Kitten is just a pet name I like to use.”
“It’s not one that I like to use,” I reply. “Not to mention the fact that I am not yours, Marcus. You don't get to call me a pet name without even asking if I’m into pet names at all—which I am, just not that one—and you can’t force me to drink water simply because you said so. I know that we’re trying to work toward a relationship where you're my Dom, but we’re not there yet, and we won't ever be if you can't understand why controlling behavior of any kind at this stage is a giant red flag.”
“Wow,” he exclaims, leaning back. “I didn't see this coming. All I was trying to do is show you that I could be a good Dominant for you. I wanted you to see me in the act a little bit. You know, give you an example of how I get down in the Dom role.”
If there was any wind left in my sails, the breeze has completely stopped now. Disappointment fills my insides and spills out like an overfilled well.
“You wanted me to see you in the act ? You wanted to give me an example of how you perform the Dom role ? Damn. You're not the only one who didn't see something coming.”
“And now what are you talking about? I swear, Nia, it’s starting to look like you're searching for reasons to sabotage this thing we’re trying to build.”
“It’s the complete opposite,” I answer. “I want it to work, but I also need it to be real. Being a Dom isn’t an act or a role for you to play. It’s who you are for real on the inside. It’s a part of your real personality, and it doesn't have to be forced. You don't put it on and take it off whenever the mood suits you. A real Dom acts like it even when they don't realize it. They give off Dom vibes every day, all day without thinking about it at all. In fact, other people see it wafting off of them even before they do. That's what I want, Marcus, and unfortunately, tonight has shown me that that’s not who you are.”
“But it is who I am,” he tries to explain, but I raise a hand to cut him off.
“It’s not, and that’s okay,” I tell him as I prepare to get up from my seat. “Someone who doesn't know the lifestyle in and out like I do will be fine with you wearing the skin of a Dom every now and then, but that doesn't work for me. I appreciate your kindness over the last few days, but this isn't going to work between us. I’m sorry. I’m going to go.”
“Are you serious?” he asks as I stand.
“I am. Take care of yourself, and good luck in all of your future endeavors.”
While Marcus stares at me in disbelief, I grab my wallet off the bartop and walk away. I thought he could be the one, but time will always reveal a true Dom. Unfortunately, it will also expose the fake ones. You just have to be paying enough attention to recognize the red flags.