All Part of the Service: Chapter 4
A Controversial First Interview
Naomi
My two-tone heel taps impatiently on the pavement outside the radio studio. Dominic is twenty minutes late. No text. No call. How hard is it to be on time?
Thank God it’s Friday. I’ve spent all week pulling strings, calling in favors, and practically performing PR magic to land my client a coveted spot on the Oscar Wentworth show. If he’s late to that interview, I’ll kill him.
A deep, throaty roar slices through my frustration before a sleek motorbike barrels around the corner, coming straight for me. I take a step back as Dominic pulls up, sliding into the space in front of me with effortless precision.
He pulls off his helmet, ruffling his dirty blond hair with a quick hand before leveling me with a smirk that could make women forget their own names. Unfortunately for him, I remember mine just fine.
“You’re twenty-five minutes late,” I snap, the heat in my veins a mixture of anger and something else I refuse to name.
Dominic swings a leg off his bike like he has all the time in the world. “It’s five to four. Technically, I’m early.”
I inhale deeply, counting to ten in my head. Do not kill your client. Do not kill your client.
Dominic Wylder is a problem. A frustrating, arrogant, drop-dead-sexy problem wrapped in black leather and bad decisions. He’s been my client for less than a week, and already, my carefully maintained professional distance is cracking.
I’ve tried to focus on his work—his books, his videos, the empire he’s built off charm and controversy—but no matter how much I force myself to separate the man from the brand, my mind keeps wandering. Conjuring images I have no business entertaining. Images of him demonstrating the very dynamics he writes about, teasing, testing…
It’s infuriating.
“Listen, Dominic, when we go in there, remember this is an opportunity to reshape your public image,” I say, channeling every ounce of restraint I have.
Dominic cocks his head. “Isn’t that your job?”
“I can’t do it without you,” I counter. “Remember your female fanbase. Don’t alienate them. If you go in there and start talking about why a man’s orgasm is more important than hers—”
His expression darkens. “I have never said that.”
I arch a brow. “Maybe not outright. But your work has been… interpreted that way.”
He huffs out a breath, raking a hand through his hair before heading toward the entrance.
“Have you read my books yet?” he asks, voice deceptively casual.
“I’m working my way through them.”
His gaze sharpens. “Then you should already know that alienating women is the last thing I want to do.”
I don’t have time to dissect that before we step inside the building.
“Here he is,” I announce after hurrying up the stairs behind him, not an easy feat in my heels.
The bored receptionist does a double take, her lips parting slightly. The producer who barely acknowledged me straightens, suddenly attentive.
Dominic knows his effect and wields it like a weapon. The shift is instant—the moment he steps inside, his posture straightens, his smile widens, and suddenly, he’s the man everyone expects him to be.
I watch, half-impressed, half-irritated, as he effortlessly captivates the entire studio before even stepping on air. Tossing out easy smiles and casual compliments, he makes every person feel like they’re the most important one in the room. It’s a transformation—a calculated performance, honed to perfection.
This interview is a strategic move. Dave and Donna’s show dominates the millennial market—safer ground before tackling the challenge of Gen Z. If this goes well, I might call in a favor with Adam Granger at Mercury FM, which would put Dominic in front of an even bigger audience.
By the time we’re seated in the sound booth, I’m listening to the interview through a pair of studio headphones, my pulse still slightly elevated from keeping up with him.
Dave and Donna, the co-hosts, dive straight in.
“Dominic, your books have certainly made waves in the relationship community,” Dave says. “Some see them as revolutionary. Others… not so much. How do you feel about the reactions you’ve received?”
Dominic leans back in his chair, casual, confident. “All strong reactions indicate I’ve touched a nerve. Whether people agree or disagree, I’m glad my work sparks discussion.”
Donna isn’t charmed so easily. “You’re about to release your newest book, What He Really Wants: The Untold Secret of Owning Your Desires. Given the strides women have made, why should they want advice from a man?”
Her tone drips with skepticism, and I grip the edge of my chair.
Dominic smirks. “You’re right, the title is provocative. Intentionally so. Today, women are CEOs, astronauts, world leaders. But when the bedroom door closes, sometimes there’s a desire to explore different dynamics. My book is about that exploration.”
Donna’s eyes narrow. “And why should pleasing a man in bed be a woman’s first priority, as your previous book suggests?”
Dominic leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough to command attention. “Because sometimes surrendering control can be the ultimate power move. It’s not about subjugation, but about the exchange of power. Knowing when to lead, and when to let go.”
Donna scoffs. “So, relationships just boil down to power play?”
“Of course not,” Dominic counters smoothly. “Relationships thrive on respect, understanding, and mutual pleasure. But let’s not pretend chemistry isn’t built on tension, on dynamics. Everyone has both masculine and feminine energies. My work encourages people to explore them, not be confined by them.”
I exhale slowly, tension coiling in my stomach. Damn him. He’s good at this.
Even as I tell myself that this is just another interview, another PR job, I can’t shake the thought circling in my mind—
He doesn’t just talk about these dynamics. He embodies them.
“So, you’re saying be submissive to keep your man happy?” Donna challenges, her tone laced with skepticism.
Dominic chuckles, the sound low and indulgent, like he’s amused rather than defensive. “No, I’m saying be whatever you want, as long as it’s genuine to you. But also, be willing to communicate and understand your partner’s desires. It’s a two-way street. The energy you exude in the boardroom might be different from what you bring into the bedroom—and that’s okay.”
I bite my lip, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. He makes it sound so reasonable. So… insightful. Like he’s not the same man who built an empire off bad-boy bravado and viral controversy.
Donna studies him. “And for those who say you’re trying to push women back into traditional roles?”
Dominic leans back, stretching his long legs out, exuding ease. But I don’t miss the sharp glint in his eye—the I know exactly what I’m doing look. “Roles, whether in relationships or society, are like clothes. Try them on, see what fits, and have fun with them. Some people say men naturally gravitate to certain roles, and women to others.”
Donna inhales sharply. “That sounds dangerously close to advocating traditional gender roles.”
Dominic shrugs. “Not advocating. Observing. And it’s less about tradition and more about choice and personal comfort. Just because a role has been prevalent doesn’t mean it’s prescriptive. My message is: understand the roles, play with them if you wish, but never feel confined. It’s about mutual exploration, not mandates.”
Donna nods slowly, still skeptical but intrigued. “And for those who think you’re just being controversial for sales?”
Dominic’s lips curve into a smirk, full of wicked amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with a little controversy if it gets us talking, right?”
I exhale through my nose, pressing my fingers against my temple. He’s impossible. Infuriating. And good.
Dave jumps in. “Some of your critics say you put too much importance on sex in relationships. Do you think you overemphasize it?”
Dominic tilts his head in consideration. “Good sex? It contributes to a small portion of a relationship. But bad sex?” His smirk deepens. “That can end one.”
A flash of memory slices through me. Devon’s frustration. The way he told me I wasn’t enough. My throat tightens, and for the first time in the interview, I want to rip off my headphones.
Donna frowns. “You say you don’t want to perpetuate gender stereotypes, but your work repeatedly suggests that men, at their core, value sex above all else.”
Dominic leans forward slightly, voice steady, unshaken. “At the end of the day, if you want intimacy, sex has to be a part of that. The better the sex, the deeper the intimacy. If your sex life is suffering, your relationship will struggle. That’s not limited to men. That’s everyone.”
I exhale slowly, trying to shake off the way his words settle too close, too deep.
The rest of the interview takes on a lighter tone, Dominic effortlessly winning over both hosts with well-timed quips and flashes of boyish mischief. He knows how to work a room. He knows exactly when to push and when to pull back.
Up close, the man is lethal.
After the interview, we step onto the footpath. I turn to face him, arms crossed, needing to regain my balance.
“So,” Dominic says, dragging out the word, his gaze sharp, assessing.
“You interview very well,” I admit. “Good thing, too, since I booked you for The Oscar Wentworth Show next Thursday.”
A flicker of surprise crosses his face, and I savor the moment. Good. He should be impressed.
“I’m impressed,” he says, echoing my thoughts.
“I did tell you you’d be pleased with my services,” I point out.
“Yes, you did.”
A pause stretches between us, the silence thick. The Dominic upstairs—the smooth, calculated performer—was one thing. But standing here in front of me, there’s a different version of him. One I don’t know how to handle.
To break the silence, I blurt out, “You don’t really believe men value sex above all else, do you?”
The smirk fades slightly, his gaze darkening. It’s only for a second, but it’s real.
“Want an honest answer to that?”
“No,” I mutter quickly. “Forget I even asked.”
His smirk returns, but it’s sharper now. Swinging a leg over his bike, he watches me. “Where are you parked?”
“I walked.”
His eyes drop to my legs. My bare legs, because the skirt I chose for tonight is short, and my sheer, fitted blouse is a little too daring under the streetlights.
I cross my arms over my chest, as if that will make a difference.
“You’re headed out tonight,” he observes.
Not a question. A statement.
I nod. “To Seven.”
His jaw ticks slightly, so subtly I almost miss it.
“That nightclub?” His voice is casual, but there’s something else beneath it.
“I’m going to a spot near there. Need a lift?”
“No,” I say too quickly. “I prefer walking. The fresh air is good for me.”
And so is keeping my distance from a man who could unravel me.
He shrugs, the perfect picture of nonchalance. “Your choice.”
The engine growls to life, but just before he slides on his helmet, his gaze locks on mine, unreadable. His voice is quieter when he says,
“Till next time, Naomi.”
The roar of the engine drowns out my thoughts as he speeds away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, my pulse hammering.
Dominic Wylder is going to be a problem.
A very, very dangerous one.