Page 4 of Negotiating Tactics

It hit me again now as I walked through Dominic’s beautiful home.

I didn’t know how many properties he owned, but Birdie had assured me that no one was at this one and that I could have it for as long as I needed.

I refused to take advantage, but at least I didn’t have to find a hotel room tonight.

And for these very few hours that were left before work, I could try to rest and confront tomorrow when it came.

I made my way up the stairs, the beautiful double staircase making me smile.

This was the kind of shit that I had seen on TV when I was a kid, not a place that I ever imagined myself living in.

“You don’t live here, ho,” I whispered to myself with a little giggle.

I didn’t, but I could pretend.

In fact, I was excited when I walked up the last beautifully polished stair and looked left then right.

I decided to go left first, eyeing the four doors that lined the hall as I moved.

Behind the first door was another living room, and I couldn’t help but scoff.

How many fucking places did rich people need to sit around?

Lots, if this house was anything to go by.

I spotted two other bedrooms—functional, neat, with a bathroom between them.

Nice, but these rooms didn’t quite feel like where I wanted to sleep, though if pressed, I wouldn’t be able to say why.

Instead of questioning the feeling, I walked back down the hall, my steps muffled by the carpet runner that created a walkway that spanned the length of the hall.

There were only two doors on this end of the hall, one facing the other.

I opened the door to the left and found another tastefully decorated room with a simple queen-size bed with nightstands on either side and a tall, cherrywood armoire against one wall.

Beautiful, but still not quite right.

One more to go.

I turned and walked toward the opposite door, and after I pushed it open, I took in the room.

Beautifully furnished as well with an enormous bed covered in what looked to be a billion pillows and a duvet so stark white it practically glowed. Similar cherrywood furniture, though this room only had one nightstand.

It was so similar to the other but felt…different.

I tried to put my finger on why.

Unlike the others, this room had a television mounted to the wall.

Then, I went deeper and saw that this room had a private bath. When I walked inside, I saw neatly folded navy-blue towels, a shower big enough to make me salivate, and one of those rainwater showerheads that I hated with a passion.

A faint scent of what I could only call nature lingered in the air, probably because of the unopened shampoo, shower gel, and soap that neatly lined the countertop.

My first thought would be that this room belonged to someone, but Birdie had assured me that no one would be here.

Maybe this was just the way people like Dominic kept their spare homes, ready to take guests at a moment’s notice.

Lucky me!