Fifteen
S itting 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 about him knowing 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 my neck 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 chose to 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.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only person at Sandcastle vying for the Golden Diamond account. Simon sits across from me in a baby blue top that is covered with vanilla ice cream cones, and I can see the determination on his pale face today. He keeps his gaze trained on the papers neatly stacked in front of him, still trying to memorize whatever pitch he crafted, but he looks more like a student who thought cramming for the test the night before was better than studying for it.
Three other people are seated at the table as well, each one going over their proposals with notecards or through apps on their phone, but I try not to let them distract me. Rome is distraction enough. Instead of watching them, I go over my own pitch in my head over and over again until Sierra walks into the conference room and takes her seat to Rome’s right. Everyone’s attention shifts from their pitches to Rome as he stands and centers himself behind his chair.
“ Buongiorno ,” he starts. “Thank you all for being here. As we’ve known for a week, today is all about preparing to pitch Golden Diamond Hotel & Casino. This is a potentially major account, and you all have been working diligently over the past few days to come up with the best pitches possible so that Sandcastle wins it. Sierra and I are looking for something new, fresh, and exciting that will let the public know that Sandcastle is not a sinking ship since our former captain went overboard. We’re sailing faster than ever, with our sights set on new horizons. While I will be consulting with Sierra on today’s decision, the choice is ultimately mine. It is me who you have to impress. So, give me your best. Good luck to you all. Let’s start with you, Simon.”
Simon pinches his lips together as Rome sits down and focuses on him solely. A tiny ball of sweat pierces the skin on Simon’s forehead as he stands up, and perches itself there. It doesn't move as he grabs his papers and bounces between focusing on them and peeking at Rome.
“Umm, good morning,” he says, awkwardly trying to look at everyone. “Thank you, Mr. Giovanni, for the opportunity to present this pitch to you. I hope you will find it appealing enough to be chosen to represent Sandcastle in the coming weeks.”
Rome raises a hand and furrows his brow. “Simon. I've asked you all repeatedly to call me Rome, and there's no need for the formality or the introduction. I know who you are and that you want your pitch to win, so let’s just begin. Shall we?”
Simon clears his throat before wiping away the bead of sweat that has still refused to fall. He brings both hands to his papers and wets them accidentally with his sweat.
“Right, of course. Forgive me,” he says, alternating between nodding his head and shaking it. “Umm … Golden Diamond. As is expected from a businessman like Nix Malone, Golden Diamond will be a premier hotel and casino that will attract the highest rollers that all of Pennsylvania has to offer. It will contain luxury suites fit for a king … or queen … umm … and it will be a beacon for artists and musicians to display their talents before massive paying audiences. Ultimately, it will be unlike anything Philadelphia has ever seen before from an entertainment standpoint.
“Nix Malone is known for his lifestyle of lavishness and mystery, and his casino will embody both mystiques with perfection. The casino floor will be decorated with frills and futuristic games—from brand new slot machines, to online gambling, to in-person tables of poker, black jack, and roulette. Sports betting will also be front and center, allowing customers to not only sit amongst the extravagance, but also take part in it by risking it all for immediate payouts. They can watch the game they have bet on right there in the theater room, with its one hundred massive TVs.
“Uhh … Golden Diamond will be not only Philadelphia’s premier hotel and casino, but all of Pennsylvania’s. Golden Diamond—welcome to the life of luxury.”
Simon clears his throat again and takes his seat, showing off the world’s fakest smile to Rome as he awaits the verdict. Rome stares at him a moment before turning to Sierra. The look he gives her is one that silently asks, “What the hell was that, and is this the best this company has to offer?” There’s also a bit of, “What the hell did I buy?” sprinkled in for good measure.
Embarrassment seeps through Sierra’s perfectly applied makeup as she quickly turns from Rome’s judgmental gaze and looks at Simon.
“Thanks very much for that, Simon,” she says as nicely as she can, considering how horribly the pitch was. “If your pitch is chosen, it will need some refining and polishing. But, we’ll cross that bridge if and when we get there. Let’s move on. Nia, please present your pitch.”
Even with all of the preparation I did, nervousness still ignites in my stomach like fireworks. The entire room focuses on me as I stand up with empty hands, but it only takes a second before I feel the sizzle again. Without having to look down at him, Rome’s glare prods the side of my face, begging me to look over and acknowledge him. I want to, because he is so pretty to look at and I want to know more about what his gaze means, but this is about more than that. This is the career I had before I ever knew who Rome Giovanni was, and I will not squander it just because he's hot.
Instead of unnecessarily clearing my throat or sweating profusely, I simply take my time. I plant both feet squarely on the floor, take a deep breath and let it out slowly, lick my lips so that they’re not distractingly dry, and clear my head of anything that could throw me off. Nothing else exists but the pitch. After a brief moment of silence that forces everyone to the edge of their seat, I begin.
“Golden Diamond Hotel & Casino is not about one person. It is about everyone, but most importantly, it’s about you .” I make sure to look Rome and Sierra in their eyes as if I’m speaking directly to them. They are the customers I want to attract. “The two thousand, top of the line slot machines are jaw-dropping, but they are nothing compared to winning your first jackpot. The one hundred TVs to watch games and track the bets you've made are awe-inspiring, but they dwindle in comparison to the feeling of watching your bet pay out, making you the winner and center of attention as if standing in the middle of your own living room. There are thousands of luxurious rooms in the hotel, but the only one that matters is yours . In Golden Diamond, you are the monarch to which the rest of the world kneels.
“The world’s biggest acts will grace the grandiose stage and entertain the masses, but nothing is more exciting than your first experience in the grand hall, feeling up close and personal no matter which seat you choose. fine dining restaurants await your arrival, ready to treat you with the utmost respect and care, serving you the most mouth-watering meals you've ever tasted. You are their number one customer and you will be treated as such every time you visit as if you were the owner, because you are the leader. You are the VIP. At Golden Diamond, you are royalty.”
I make sure to smile and nod so that they know I’m finished, before sitting down and finally allowing myself to lock eyes with Rome. He looks at me with a wrinkled brow, a combination of confusion and awe tattooed in his expression. I don't even know what to think as he stares, and I can also feel Simon watching me. I turn to look at him and he looks furious, as if I just stole something near and dear to his heart. He glares at me momentarily before staring down at his damp papers, squinting at them as if they are the reason his pitch was a disaster instead of himself. Sierra is the only one who doesn't look at me like she wants to torture me, but before she can speak, Rome tilts his head to the side and says something that makes the world stop spinning.
“I don't need to hear anything else.”
All attention falls from me and jolts over to him.
Sierra's eyes nearly bulge out of her head. “I’m sorry? What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” Rome answers before standing up. “That pitch was perfect, and I don't need to hear another one. At Golden Diamond, you are royalty. Yeah, that’s it. Nia, you're pitching to Nix. You and I will discuss parameters and his schedule as soon as he is able to put Sandcastle on his books. We’ll talk more soon. Thanks, everybody.”
Excitement rages in my gut like a roaring river, but I'm too shocked to even react. All I can do is watch as Rome starts walking toward the door without regard to anyone else. It’s Sierra who speaks up and slows his steps.
“Rome, we have three more pitches to review,” she says, sounding as shocked as everyone in the room looks and surely feels by this sudden change.
Rome stops at the door, but only briefly. “No, we don't. I've heard everything I need to hear, and I couldn't have come up with a better pitch myself. So, that’s it. Nia will pitch. Thank you all for coming. Phenomenal job, Nia. Truly. Congratulations.”
Rome shows no sign of hesitation as he turns around and walks out of the conference room.
“Thank you,” I say loudly as the door slowly closes behind him.
Sierra turns to face me, and the look of satisfaction she held just moments ago has been replaced by something much more sinister. I don't know what the hell just happened, or whether I should be excited or terrified, but my heart races all the same.