All Part of the Service: Chapter 2
Keep Him Satisfied
Naomi
The boardroom is deserted as I push open the grand double doors on the fifth floor. I suppose it was too much to ask for my new client to stay put.
I search the fifth floor for any sign of him, then spend the next twenty minutes scouring the floors above and below, even checking the third-floor boardroom in case Mr. Wylder got confused. Losing my client before our first meeting is far from ideal. Finally, I decide to take the elevator back up to my office floor and search there.
The moment the elevator doors glide open, Zara’s voice floats toward me.
“Oh my God, I absolutely adore your Granite channel! I’ve watched every single one of your videos.”
I go still. I don’t need to see them to know exactly who she’s talking to.
“Is that so?” His voice is silk and amusement, deep enough to curl low in my stomach. “I’m lucky to have such a devoted fan.”
Zara giggles. “I’ve also read and reread your books countless times.”
I resist the urge to rub my temples. Ready to bring Zara’s fangirling to a close, I school my expression into something calm, professional, and completely indifferent. No matter what I think of my new client, professionalism demands that I remain courteous and respectful.
But as I turn the corner and Dominic comes into view, my eyes widen, and I draw a sharp breath.
Seeing him in photos and videos is one thing. Seeing him in person is something else entirely.
He stands in profile, weight shifted to one leg, clad in black boots, black jeans, a black leather jacket, and a crisp white shirt that hints at the shape of the body beneath. His dirty blond hair is messy but deliberate—the kind of tousled that suggests he’s been running his fingers through it.
And then he turns his head toward me.
And God help me, those eyes. Dark, melted caramel, framed by thick lashes. Piercing and knowing. The kind of gaze that hits like a slow burn, crawling beneath your skin before you can stop it.
“Handsome” isn’t the right word. He’s breathtaking. With a chiseled jawline, prominent cheekbones, a sun-kissed complexion, and full lips that are currently smirking. Just the barest curve of his lips, something lazy and confident, like he can already see the effect he has on me. He possesses the kind of perfection that leaves you momentarily stunned, forgetting everything but him.
Seconds pass before my training kicks in, and I manage to regain my smile. This is my job. I know exactly what I’m doing. This is just a first meeting like any other, right?
He flashes me a charming grin that I’m certain has caused women to drop their panties all over the place.
He extends his hand. “You must be Naomi.”
I brace myself and take it. His grip is firm, warm, and way too confident.
He doesn’t reek of alcohol or late nights like I expected. Instead, he smells clean, expensive, devastatingly male. A subtle aftershave—something woodsy, faintly spiced, and maybe pheromones, because my mind betrays me with an image of the two of us tangled up in bedsheets. The scent of his cologne mingling with the press of his body, his voice rough and teasing against my ear.
Heat floods through me. The butterflies that had settled with the thought of my promotion now reawaken—but for an entirely different reason.
I release his hand too quickly. He notices. A flicker of amusement passes through his eyes, as if he caught every thought I just had.
Sex has been the furthest thing from my mind while working endless hours—fatigue is hardly an aphrodisiac. I thought I was turning into a born-again virgin, but maybe it’s simply been too long since I’ve encountered a man like Dominic. A man who elicits thoughts of sex with just a gaze.
Pull yourself together, Naomi.
I straighten my shoulders. “Naomi Tate, pleased to meet you.”
“Dominic Wylder.”
“I’m aware.”
“You have an incredible assistant, Naomi.” His smirk deepens, voice dipping into something almost conspiratorial. “She’s been singing your praises for the past ten minutes.”
My eyes narrow slightly before flicking to Zara. What, exactly, has she been telling him? She doesn’t even notice my stare. She’s still wrapped up in the gravitational pull of his charisma.
I clear my throat. “Shall we head back to the boardroom?”
Dominic glances toward my office. “No need, isn’t your office right here?”
He shifts his attention back to Zara for confirmation.
She nods eagerly.
While it’s not uncommon for me to conduct meetings in my office, introductory meetings typically take place elsewhere. My office feels like an incredibly confined space to host a meeting with this client. The boardroom would offer a more professional and less intimate environment.
“Thank you, Zara,” Dominic says, flashing yet another breathtaking smile. “You’ve been tremendously helpful.”
Zara blushes and returns the smile.
Resigned to conducting the meeting in my office, I lead the way. After stepping inside, I close the door and settle into my seat behind the desk, waiting for Dominic to join me. However, Dominic strolls around my office, his movements deliberate yet unhurried.
As he picks up my credentials, flipping through them with a nonchalant air, I sense something calculated in his approach—a subtle test, perhaps, to gauge how I’ll react. He studies the photographs on my desk, his eyes lingering on each one as if assessing not just the pictures, but the person who placed them there.
Finally, he grabs the Rubik’s Cube, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he plops down in the chair across from me, propping his feet up on my desk with an ease that suggests this is just another game for him to play.
I arch a brow. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
His eyes gleam.
He’s testing me.
If I don’t set the right tone now, Dominic will seize control of every meeting, every conversation. While he’s the client, and my job is to keep him satisfied—professionally speaking—I refuse to let him dictate the terms of our interactions. He needs to see me as the expert, the one who will shape his public image and make him a household name for the right reasons.
I lean forward slightly, coaxing his attention. “I assume Michael has already given you the welcome speech to East Melbourne PR?”
Dominic tosses the Rubik’s Cube onto my desk and, to my relief, finally meets my gaze. A mistake. My stomach clenches as I take in the sharp intensity of his dark, melted-caramel eyes. “He has,” he says, his voice smooth. “And you came highly recommended—despite the fact that I specifically requested someone else.”
His words are a sharp blow, catching me off guard.
“Oh.” My professional mask almost slips. “Michael didn’t mention that. Who did you ask for?”
Why didn’t Michael tell me? More importantly, why didn’t he honor Dominic’s request?
He drums his fingers against the desk, his scrutiny palpable. “Veronica Dalton.”
“I see,” I say evenly, though my mind is already racing.
“Do you know her?” he asks.
“I do.”
And if Dominic specifically requested her, why am I the one sitting here with him now?
He must sense my confusion because his expression softens slightly, as if trying to make this easier.
“Veronica and I… have history. We were involved a while back. Michael thought it would be more professional if I worked with someone else.”
So, he’s Veronica’s ex-boyfriend. This keeps getting better and better. The last thing I want is Veronica breathing down my neck on this project.
I could try to back out. Go to Michael, argue that Veronica should take him on since Dominic wants her as his publicist. But the truth is, this is my shot. My promotion hinges on making Dominic Wylder a success story. And I refuse to let him—or Veronica—stand in my way.
I picture myself in the spacious and lavish office I’ll have once I’m promoted before forcing myself to maintain steady eye contact with Dominic.
“Company policy prohibits representatives from dating clients,” I explain.
He furrows his brow at me. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
I stand up and walk around my desk, gently but assertively pushing Dominic’s boots off and leaning against the sturdy wood. Hopefully, standing will give me an advantage here. I’m using every trick I know to boost his confidence in my abilities.
“I assure you that I am more than qualified for this job, and I guarantee you’ll be pleased with my services.”
Dominic narrows his eyes, and my stomach twists in response. I shouldn’t take his scepticism personally, right? It’s not personal; he wanted Veronica, and he’s simply disappointed.
“You see, Naomi,” Dominic says softly, leaning in. “If you’re going to be my publicist, shouldn’t you at least be familiar with the product you’re selling?”
His question catches me off guard. Stupidly, I hadn’t anticipated it.
“What makes you think I’m not?”
His smirk deepens. “Are you?”
I hesitate. That’s all the answer he needs.
He leans in, elbows braced against his knees, his gaze locked onto mine. “Have you watched my videos?”
I clear my throat. “I’ve seen a few of your interviews.”
Technically true. Just not the whole truth. His interviewers always fall all over him and it’s nauseating watching him charm them.
Dominic tilts his head. “Have you read any of my books?”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I haven’t—yet,” I admit, quickly adding, “but I will.”
His eyes flick over my face, searching, before he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms out casually. “Does my work offend you, Naomi?”
“No,” I answer too fast. Too defensive.
One side of his mouth quirks up, as if he’s caught me in a lie.
“I don’t judge clients,” I amend smoothly. “I simply haven’t had time to fully familiarize myself with your content. But I intend to.”
Silence stretches between us. A beat too long.
And then, something shifts. His smirk fades, replaced by something unreadable. And, absurdly, I feel like I’ve disappointed him. Like I failed some invisible test I didn’t even realize I was taking.
“Listen, Naomi,” he says at last, “I’m sure you’re good at what you do. But Veronica at least understands my ideas. Maybe we’d both be happier if you convinced Michael to let her take over.”
A direct hit.
I straighten, ignoring the instinctive sting of rejection. If Michael already denied his request, he’s not likely to approve mine. Besides, pushing Dominic off on someone else would make me look incompetent.
“How do you know Veronica wants to represent you?” I counter.
“We’ve had a conversation.”
Nothing about this new client is going my way. I exhale slowly, keeping my expression composed even as frustration builds. Desperate now, I try to buy time.
“How about this?” I propose. “Give me a month to prove myself. If you’re still unsatisfied, I’ll talk to Michael about making a change.”
Dominic studies me, weighing the offer. He doesn’t look convinced.
So I push a little harder. “If you have any interest in rekindling things with Veronica, it would be better for me to represent you. The company’s policy is strict about that.”
His lips press together, and for the first time, I see hesitation flicker across his face.
“Are they really that strict?”
“They are. Engaging in a romantic relationship with a client leads to immediate termination.”
He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. He doesn’t look pleased, but he also doesn’t argue.
A tense silence lingers before he finally mutters, “Well then, I suppose you’ll have to do.”
Not exactly the glowing vote of confidence I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.
I force a smile, injecting a confidence I don’t entirely feel. “You won’t regret this.”
His gaze darkens slightly. “And you’ll actually read and watch my work?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I intend to start this evening.”
The tight smile he offers me bears no resemblance to the one he gave Zara earlier. “Alright. One month it is, then.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived. The task ahead is daunting. Dominic Wylder is a brand—one built on controversy, polarizing opinions, and carefully cultivated charisma. If I don’t control the narrative, he will. And if I fail to clean up his image, my chances of being promoted are zilch.
I need his cooperation and support to do my job, and if he doesn’t believe in my abilities and refuses to let me represent him, he could make my life—my job—impossible.
Nevertheless, I press on. “Great. Now that we’ve addressed that, let’s get down to business.”