5. Calista

5

CALISTA

T his is the one. I’m sure of it. This property has a large warehouse with a kitchen, very few windows, and lofts on the top two floors. Add in a giant parking lot for all the motorcycles and an acre of land behind the building, and it’s everything Domino is looking for. Speaking of…

My heart skips a beat when the rumble of a lone motorcycle grows closer and closer until it’s suddenly cut off. He’s here .

I wipe my sweaty palms on my dark green pencil skirt and then gather my hair to one side, tossing it over my shoulder. Domino has me all out of sorts, and not just because I may or may not have had a sexy dream about him last night. I woke up with a moan on my lips, though thankfully neither of my roommates seemed to notice.

Ugh. Roommates. Another reason I really need to land this sale and make a decent commission - so I can move out and finally, finally have my own space.

Domino steps inside, squinting as his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. I straighten my back and suck in my belly, even though I know it won’t make that much of a difference. I’m a big girl and there’s no hiding that. It’s not like the Greek god of a man has ever nor will ever think of me in a romantic way. Why would he?

Shut up, it doesn’t matter.

“Calista,” he says once he spots me. God, the deep tenor of his voice cuts through the silence and vibrates through me. I’m frozen in place as the powerful man closes the distance between us in three large strides.

“Mr. Domino,” I greet him. I have to tamp down my lust and replace it with my most professional smile. He furrows his brow at me and dips his head so we’re eye to eye. Those hazel irises turn from greenish-brown to dark mahogany, making my chest ache and my thighs tremble.

“What have we talked about, Calista?” Is he trying to kill me with that gravelly voice? I feel it scraping along my nerves and spiking my heart rate.

“Domino,” I whisper, unable to find my voice at the moment.

“Good girl,” he growls.

My mouth drops open at his words and Domino’s eyes fixate on my lips. Did he really just call me a good girl? More importantly, did I just soak my freaking panties?

“The property,” Domino says, clearing his throat and turning his back to me.

What the hell was that? And how can I get him to do it again?

“Y-yes,” I stutter out. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I shove all the emotions, questions, and confusing sensations down, down, down, and focus on landing this sale. “This is the one,” I say with more confidence.

“You sound pretty sure about that,” Domino says, looking at me over his shoulder as I walk toward him. “I’m a president, remember. With very particular tastes.”

I can’t help the giggle bubbling up from my chest. He’s quoting my text from the other day. I’m surprised he remembered. Truthfully, I was embarrassed after I hit send. Why did I tell him what I was wearing? Who does that? When he didn’t respond, I put my hood on and pulled the strings tight so only a little hole was left for me to peek through. It felt safer.

But now hearing him repeat my words… he must have read the text a few times. It gives me the tiniest boost of confidence, which is all I need.

“Exactly,” I agree. “And I’ve found just what you’re looking for. Just think, after today, you won’t ever have to see me again!” I tease.

Domino clenches his jaw and flares his nostrils. Something dark passes over his features, but it’s gone before I can pinpoint what that look means. Is he… annoyed? Happy to be rid of me?

“Um, okay, so, ready for the tour?” I ask, not sure why the mood took a depressing turn. I thought Domino would be thrilled to be done with this whole process. It’s clear he’s ready to get into a new place, and all I’m trying to do is make that happen as quickly as possible.

I take the lead, showing him the kitchen, the lofts, and all the extra meeting rooms and storage available. He follows silently, hardly looking at anything I point out. Seriously, what the hell happened to the flirty man who walked in here half an hour ago? He’s now back to being his usual grumpy self. No, he’s worse than that. This version of Domino seems agitated but I’m not sure why.

Men. They think we’re confusing.

“As you can see, outside here we have plenty of land for future development and expansion. You could build extra apartments back here, garages, storage units, whatever you need. And the parking lot is huge, right? Lots of space for all the bikers.”

Domino just stands next to me with his arms crossed over his chest, surveying the land. I hope it’s because he’s envisioning all the cool construction projects he and his club are going to do, but I have a feeling he’s making a list of things he hates.

“The gravel lot wasn’t done right. The rocks are too big.” The man has hardly spoken two words since we started the tour and this is what he has to say?

“The rocks… are too big?” I repeat, placing my hands on my hips. Maybe if he hears the words from someone else he’ll realize how utterly stupid they are.

“Yup,” he confirms, nodding his head. “They’ll ruin my bike.”

“Well, I suggest you put an offer on this place and then start shopping for a better bike,” I counter. I peer over at Domino, his face as stoic and inscrutable as ever. My hands drop from my hips as I let out an exasperated sigh. “I can see how much it would be to redo the lot. It’s gravel, so that has to be cheaper than asphalt, right?”

Instead of answering me, Domino just grunts. His phone dings and he digs in his pocket, his face scrunching up in anger when he reads the screen. “Shit,” he curses before shoving his phone back in his jeans.

Without another word, Domino storms over to his bike and swings his leg over, plopping down as if punishing the poor leather seat.

“Find me another place after the weekend,” he shouts over the engine as it roars to life.

“Can’t wait!” I call back, not even trying to hide my sarcasm. I swear I see the hint of a smirk on his stupidly handsome face, but he pulls out of the parking lot and peels off before I can be sure.

I throw my hands up in the air and shake my head, not sure what else to do in this situation. The rocks are too big. What about the lofts? The completed kitchen? The location? “But nooooo, the rocks are too big,” I repeat under my breath in a mocking voice.

Heading back inside, I grab my purse and pull out my laptop as well as my favorite snack - dill pickle chips and a bottle of sweet tea. I lean against one of the counters in the kitchen and call my dear friend, Bea. She moved across the damn country not all that long ago, but we still try to talk a few times a week. I need to vent and she’s the best listener I know. Plus, she’s not selling agate jewelry in Mesa, Arizona like my mom, so that helps.

Twenty minutes later, I've polished off my chips and tea, as well as given a satisfactory rant to my friend. I can't avoid the office forever, so I better pack up and start researching yet another new property. This town isn't exactly a metropolis, so if he wants to stay within city limits, there are only so many buildings that will fit the bill. I'm hoping there's at least one more. That's all I need.

Just as I’m shouldering my purse and getting ready to lock up, I hear a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot. Maybe it’s Domino coming to apologize and tell me this is the perfect place and I’m an incredible real estate agent and he’ll take it for above the asking price.

Hey, a girl can dream, right?

I head outside to see what he wants, only it's not Domino. It's the man from the other day, the one with the eyepatch that seemed to have a history with Domino. This is definitely not a dream. It's a fucking nightmare.

“Just the woman I was looking for,” the man says as he cuts the engine and hops off the bike.

I turn and sprint back into the building, trying to shut the door so I can lock myself inside. No luck. He wedges his big boot between the door and the frame, then pries the door open and pushes me inside.

Stumbling backward, I land on my ass with a hard thud that knocks the breath out of my lungs. The man with the eyepatch laughs as he leans over my crumpled body, his lips spreading into an ugly, twisted smirk revealing several rotten teeth.

He reaches out and grabs me by the throat, lifting me from the ground and slamming me against the nearest wall. I wince as my head bounces off the surface, pain ricocheting throughout my body while his haunting smile grows even bigger.

Two other men appear, one on either side of me, each wrapping their hands around my wrists to keep me pinned in place. I struggle for air, my eyes darting around for something, anything to help.

“What do you know about the Deviant Souls?” the main guy asks. I blink at him and try speaking, but nothing comes out. He spits in my face, the disgusting, slimy substance oozing down my cheek while he stares at me with beady black eyes.

“N-nothing,” I squeak out. “A club. That’s all I know.”

“And Domino? You seem to have caught his eye.”

“N-n-no,” I stutter. I try swallowing but I can’t. I end up coughing which only angers the men more. They tighten their hold on me, letting me know they could easily crush me and end my life.

“This the new clubhouse? Or was it the last one? We’ll find out one way or another, won’t we, boys?” The two men on either side of him grunt and nod. “But it’d be a hell of a lot easier if you just told us.”

“I-I-I…” I choke on my response, losing focus as black dots cloud my vision.

All three men release me at the same time and I slump to the floor, curling up in a ball to protect myself. “The marks will send enough of a message,” the leader grunts to the other guys. “You,” he says sharply. I look up at him through the tears stinging my eyes. “Tell Domino his days are numbered.”

All I can do is whimper, which gives all three men a sick sense of satisfaction. I can see it in their eyes. Feel it in their dark, irredeemable souls.

As suddenly as they appeared, the men leave. I stay huddled up on the concrete floor long after the sound of the bikes has faded away. I’m sore and bruised and terrified. The worst part? I still didn’t make a goddamn sale today.

My phone alerts me to a text, but I don’t bother moving. It’s not until my phone rings that I finally roll over and reach for my purse, which was flung several feet away during the attack.

I was attacked .

The reality of what just happened sets in. I was assaulted and threatened by three strangers. I…

My phone rings again, providing a distraction from my spiraling thoughts. When Lisa Dunham’s name flashes across the screen, I make a real attempt to sit up straight and get my shit together. I can’t let her know how weak I am. She’s a powerhouse, a titan of industry, an incredible woman who has dealt with plenty of shit and rose to the occasion. I can’t tell her I let myself get attacked by my client’s enemies. It’s all just a complication in the way of the sale, which I'm sure is all she cares about.

I close my eyes and drum up the strength to put on my professional mask once again. “Hello, Lisa,” I say once I’m finally composed enough to breathe normally.

“Tell me you landed the sale,” she starts, cutting right to the chase.

“Well, not exactly…”

“Adam has been practically humping my leg to try and get me to hand over this client to him. I said I’d give you one more week, but I can’t promise anything after that.”

“Of course. That’s understandable,” I reply, holding back tears.

“Don’t let me down, Calista. I need strong sellers on my team. People who can take a hit and come back stronger.” She has no idea how poignant her words are at this moment.

“Absolutely,” I agree, though she didn’t ask my opinion. “I’m your girl,” I say for some stupid reason.

“Not yet, but I’m holding out hope.”

With that, she hangs up.

I stare at my screen, remembering the text I got before Lisa called. It’s Domino. Of course, it is.

Text me when you get home safely.

I burst into tears, letting my phone slide off my lap and onto the floor. Curling my knees up, I wrap my arms around them and bury my head in my lap. Sobs wrack my body, echoing in the empty warehouse and making me feel even more pathetic.

I allow myself another ten minutes of tears before summoning the strength to stand. At this point, I can’t go back to the office. Not looking the way I do. I’ll have to finish out the work day at home, where hopefully I can ice my wounds and minimize the bruising. I make a mental note to look for a scarf to wear over the next week or so. I’m sure I’ll have nasty bruises on my neck for a while.

By the time I finally get back to my apartment, I collapse on my bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, leaving work and the memory of the traumatic afternoon behind.