Thirty-Nine
“ I understand that, but I'm not using ten percent of our entire budget on one campaign, Simon. Now get out of my office, and don't come back until you figure out how to reduce the cost. Go.”
Every head in the bullpen is turned toward Rome’s office as he finishes berating Simon for coming to him with a high-priced ad and marketing strategy he’s been working on. As Simon ambles out of the office with his chin tucked against his chest, Jeremiah turns to me with wide eyes. From my desk, I shrug to let him know that I have no idea what’s going on with Rome today, and we all get back to work.
Today has been strange. While work has had its usually lackluster moments highlighted by the rare flair caused by a gorgeous mockup from someone on one of the design teams, the air has been thicker. Tension hovers all around us like black smoke from a nearby fire, and it’s because Rome clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. From the moment he walked into the office, it was apparent that he didn't want to be talked to for one reason or another. He barely spoke as he passed by people giving him their usual morning greeting. When I went to his office to say hello, he barely acknowledged me, throwing me an apathetic, “Hey,” before moving his eyes to his computer screen and leaving them there. I'm not the kind of person to beg for attention when it’s clear someone doesn't want to give it, so I turned on my heel and walked back into my office where I didn't feel like a bother. I spent the entire day giving him his clearly wanted space, but it doesn't seem to have helped with his attitude, as this is the third time we’ve heard him have an uncharacteristic attitude with one of his employees. Jeremiah isn't the only person who has turned to me for answers, but all I can do is shrug. Even I have no riposte to his mood.
The day ticks on in uncommon silence. Every chair in the bullpen is filled because no one wants to risk going to the breakroom. They might have to walk past Rome or, even worse, be in there when he enters and suffer the brunt of his wrath. Rome has always been intimidating anyway, so now that he is having his first bad at the office, the usual healthy fear has risen to terror for everyone. Seeing as how we’re together now, I wonder what I can do to help, but I'm worried that if I try he’ll snap at me. Naturally, I will snap back, and the next thing we know, we’re having a freaking lover’s quarrel right in the middle of the office, which would send the rumor mill into overdrive as everyone at Sandcastle awaits our demise. I'd rather keep my distance and hope that he’ll be better once work is finished.
With an hour left in our day, I notice the familiar look of heads popping up and necks stretching to look over the top of their cubicle walls to see inside Rome’s office. I take my fingers away from my keyboard so that the click-clacking doesn't drown out any sound, and I hear what resembles a faint argument brewing. Jeremiah looks at me again, this time with a wrinkled forehead that shows real worry, so I get up from my desk and move to the doorway.
“What the hell is going on with you today?” Rome asks Sierra, who stands at the front of his desk with a piece of paper in her hand hanging loosely at her side.
“I don't know what you mean?” she replies, her voice devoid of its usual fire.
Rome sits back in his chair and scowls in a way that sends a shard of horror through my heart. “You don't know what I mean? I just had to get onto Simon about a campaign strategy that clearly had no thought or direction, and now here you are with numbers that look like you don't give a fuck if this company goes bankrupt by next week. Simon should've never come to me with those marketing numbers anyway, because you are the VP. He should've gone to you, and you should've told him that the budget was too high. It’s a problem that never should have made it to my desk, Sierra. You need to do your job.”
“I am doing my job, Rome,” Sierra retorts. “I didn't know Simon was going to come in here. He bypassed me.”
“And why did he think that bypassing you was something he could do?”
“How the hell should I know? What is with this attitude from you today?”
“My attitude comes from people not knowing how to do their fucking job!” Rome barks so loud I expect the floor to shake.
Sierra takes a step back, shocked by Rome’s outburst, and I hear a few gasps from the bullpen as other directors step into their doorways to see what is going on. Angst settles over the entire office and all work comes to a screeching halt as Sierra stands before Rome completely frozen while he glares at her. His face is contorted into a furious expression, but after a moment, it relents. The furrow in his brow smoothes out as he takes a deep breath and puts his head down.
“I'm sorry,” he says without looking up. “I shouldn't have yelled at you. That was rude and disrespectful of me, and I apologize.”
He looks back up at Sierra and … do I see tears in his eyes?
“It’s okay, Rome,” Sierra replies. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” he answers. “Do me a favor, please, and send everybody home for the day.”
“But we have an hour left.”
“I know. Just do it, please. Work isn't going anywhere. We’ll get back to it tomorrow. Thanks.”
Sierra slowly nods her head as she walks backwards toward the door as if Rome will attack her if she turns her back to him. Once she's out of the office, she turns to the bullpen and announces that everyone is being let off an hour early. I expect cheers, but instead, everyone quietly gets up and hurriedly scampers to the door like a fire drill. They filter out quickly, with Sierra as the last to go. She stops at the doorway and makes eye contact with me before following the rest of them out.
Rome hasn't moved an inch by the time I make it to his office. He sits at his desk with his head leaning back against the headrest of his chair, staring up at the ceiling.
“Bad day?” I ask, hoping he doesn't kick me out.
He sighs, still staring at the ceiling like he's stargazing. “Yeah … something like that.”
“Yeah,” I say, looking down at the couch next to me but deciding against moving to it just in case this doesn't go well. “Want to go for a drink? Sure looks like you could use one … or six.”
The corner of his mouth threatens to lift into a smirk, but he forces it away. “I don't know. I should probably just go home. Shouldn't even have come to work today.”
“What exactly is wrong?”
Rome shakes his head as if he can't believe the answer himself, but he doesn't let me in on the secret. “Nothing … nothing that I want to talk about.”
I want to pry, and not just to be nosy. I want to know what’s going on with him today because I care about him. It matters to me what Rome is going through, but it’s clear that he doesn't want to get into it right now. Maybe he will when he feels like the time is right. At least that’s what I hope.
“Alright. Well, are you sure? I think a few drinks might loosen the muscles in your face a bit. You look like you're turning to stone.”
Finally, Rome’s mouth turns up at the corner and he smiles for me. He lowers his head, grinning for the first time today.
“It’s dangerous talking shit to me right now, my little goddess,” he says.
“What? I just wanted to make you smile. You'd do the same for me. Now come on. We’ll hit Heartless Tavern right up the street, have a few drinks to relax, and then you can go home and try to figure out how to not scare the living shit out of everyone in the office tomorrow. Okay?”
Rome grins again, almost involuntarily, before relenting. “Okay.”
Heartless Tavern is as empty as I would expect it to be on a weekday just after work. There are a few people scattered across the bar, but when Rome and I walk in, it’s easy for us to find two stools next to each other. We take our seats beneath the bright white and red lights reading “Heartless,” ignoring the large bearded man next to us who looks like he hasn't left the bar in weeks. The bartender is a woman who is probably in her late thirties, with purple hair cut just above her shoulders and a hoop earring in each nostril. Her black lipstick glistens, reflecting the white lights when she smiles at us, awaiting our drink order.
“Cranberry vodka,” I tell her as soon as I'm settled.
“DisAronno on the rocks, please,” Rome says.
“You got it,” the bartender replies before stepping away to fill the orders.
She drops the drinks off in front of us, and Rome immediately knocks back half of his, sucking in air to cool his scorched throat.
My eyebrows climb upward. “Well, damn. Sierra and Simon had their budgets that messed up, huh?”
Rome chuckles, which still manages to fill my stomach with butterflies. “They were, but they weren't. I didn't have to react the way I did. Just a bad day, and … I don't know.”
“We don't have to talk about it right now,” I say, placing a hand on top of his. “We all go through things that no one else can see. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. You seem to be doing better already, so my mission has been accomplished.”
“I am doing better,” he says. “Thanks to you. You're incredible, you know that? You have no idea what it means to me to be sitting here with you, enjoying your beauty and conversation. Especially today. It’s everything, Nia.”
I smile with a playful shrug. “Glad to be of service, Sir. You make me happy all of the time. Returning the favor is the least I can do. Now finish that drink and order another, then you’ll be feeling like you're floating on a cloud above all of your problems.”
“There you go thinking you can tell me what to do,” he says, shaking his head as he smirks. “Who’s in charge again?”
I smile from ear to ear. “You are, Sir.”
“That’s right,” Rome says before lifting his glass. “But I am going to listen to you and finish this drink. Who doesn't want to float on a cloud?”
Both of us laugh as the door to the bar opens and a small group of guys walks in. Rome and I ignore them, continuing to smile and laugh as we both take long gulps of our drinks and nearly finish them. As I set mine down on the white and red napkin in front of me, I feel the bearded man next to me brush my shoulder as he gets up to leave, followed by another person taking his place. But this person bumps me so hard it nearly knocks me off my stool. When I look over to say something, I pause when I recognize his face. He stares at me, raising his head and looking down at me over his nose. I know those beady little eyes and the douche-bag gaze in them. It’s fucking Zane from FET, who I mistakenly almost had sex with months ago.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he says with all the confidence in the world. “If it isn't Nia, the girl who claimed to be a sub but wouldn't submit. Long time no see. Sorry for bumping your shoulder, but if I’d known it was you I would've done it harder.”
My heart speeds up as I let out a sigh, because seeing this asshole is the last thing I need, and not just right now. It’s the last thing I need ever .
I don't have anything to say to him after the way he treated me at his house—when I had to storm out on his goofy ass because he wouldn't respect my use of the safe word, and tried to guilt trip me into a butt plug. People in this lifestyle do not play about their limits, and it isn't something that should ever be contemned. With that in mind, I roll my eyes and turn around to face Rome, who hasn't noticed Zane’s arrival.
“What, you're just going to ignore me?” Zane says, talking louder, his assertiveness unwavering as he still thinks he can intimidate me. “I know we got off on the wrong foot last time, but maybe we could rekindle the flame and try again. What do you say, Nia?”
“I say go fuck yourself ,” I snap, trying to suffocate him with my evil glare.
“Wow. Still so hostile,” Zane says. “Nice to see you're still a prude with a shitty attitude.”
“Hey,” Rome says, looking past me and staring daggers into Zane. “Do we have a problem?”
I place a hand on Rome’s chest as he gets up from his seat and stands beside me. “Rome, it’s fine. Zane was just leaving.”
“Was I?” Zane responds. “No, I wasn't. I was waiting to be introduced to your friend Nia. Who’s the guy who won't be getting lucky tonight?”
“Zane, walk away,” I tell him, because I see the rage growing in Rome’s posture, his muscles tightening and jaw clenching as he forgets everyone in the bar, including me, and only looks at Zane.
“Walk away?” Zane continues, totally unfazed. “You don't tell me to walk away. You're just a sub. You have no say in anything because you're just a hole for me and my new friend here to fuck. Now do your job and introduce me to—”
I never see the punch coming. Rome’s body moves so quickly that I don't recognize the moment his arm cocks back and shoots forward like a battering ram. His fist slams into Zane’s face, and Zane’s head snaps back so far it looks like the back of his head touches his shoulder blades. In the speed of a blink, his body crumples to the floor on top of itself.
Everyone around us moves away like a fire just broke out, as Rome reaches down and grabs the unconscious Zane by the face.
“Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?” he blares. “She is mine. Do you hear me? Mine! Don't you ever talk to my woman that way. Don't you ever disrespect her. I will break your goddamn neck!”
Even though he's already knocked out, Rome hits him again, sending blood splattering across the floor and staining people’s shoes. The bearded man from before grabs Rome by the arm and pulls him back, but Rome turns and pushes him off, not wanting to be touched by anyone. The man puts his hands up to let Rome know he doesn't want any problems, and everyone backs away, leaving Zane on the floor by himself.
Everyone in the bar stares at Rome, wondering what he's about to do next. My heart races as he pulls out his wallet and throws a hundred dollar bill on the bar between our two drinks.
“For the trouble,” he says to the bartender, then he grabs me by the hand. “Come on.”
Fighting back a smile as I look down at the incapacitated Zane, I grip Rome’s hand and begin to follow his lead out of the bar. “Yes, Sir.”