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“I bet,” I say with a tight smile. She returns it.
“A forced coupling then?” she asks as she pulls out a folder from her handbag. My eyebrows raise and she smiles politely. “You are not my first reluctant bride. My advice is always run while you can, or wait it out long enough to become a widow.”
I choke on a sip of water. “You sell it well.”
Elanee shrugs casually. “Well, I tire of practically selling women off to men.” There’s a hint of something underlying I can’t quiet decipher. “I am good at what I do, and that is not the case for everyone. I deal with the wealthy and offer the best matches to families who are also after a mutual agreement.”
She pulls out four pieces of paper. All of which profile single men and a detailed description of their upbringing, net worth, hobbies, and notable mentions such as children or previous divorces. I notice the first bachelor has already had two divorces.
“He tired of his previous wives within the first five years so it’s only a partial life sentence,” Elanee says.
I can’t help but laugh. I like this woman. “Don’t you think you’re persuading me too much? What if I don’t want to marry any of these men?”
She offers a genuine smile, and with the added effect of her rosy cheeks, she’s utterly stunning. Still, I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen her somewhere before. “I’m sure you’re in a position that what you want and what you’re being forced to do are two different things. I can pretend to be a flighty matchmaker if you’d prefer.”
“I very much prefer how you are now.”
“In that case, I recommend this one. Leigh Sloan. Owns a pharmacy company. Self-made billionaire. No children or ex-wives. Appears to be a workaholic, which I’m sure doesn’t concern you, and he’s rather attractive, in my opinion.” She hands over the top file.
I sigh as I take it and look over the reasonably attractive man. The image of blue striking eyes come to mind, and I curse myself for immediately comparing any man to Luca Armani. I’ll admit he might’ve been the best fuck of my life—also the craziest—but there is no exception to a crazed mafia boss who wants to control me in every sense.
“Elanee?” Dmitri’s voice creeps from behind.
I twist to realize he’s stopped dead in his tracks as he stares at her. She sucks in a harsh breath and the two can’t look away from each other. The tension is palpable. I’ve never seen Dmitri’s mask falter…especially mid-day with others around. I purposefully clear my throat, reminding them I’m sitting in this awkwardness.
They quickly break eye contact and Dmitri is equally surprised to see me. “How do you two know each other?” He gestures to the four men in suits behind him to go ahead without him.
“Miss Barone and I were discussing her future prospects,” Elanee says, still not meeting his gaze.
He comes closer to the table now, barely looking at the files as he stares only at her. Miss Elanee Lane just became so much more interesting, because I have never seen the proclaimed playboy stop in his tracks for any woman.
Finally, he looks at me. “Your father’s forcing your hand early? I thought he was giving you a year?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I can thank a certain someone who kidnapped me for an entire weekend, something which was then quickly written about in certain gossip tabloids about a certain bachelor and his sudden interest in yours truly,” I state sarcastically.
Dmitri cringes. “I saw those. It’s good to see you’re in high spirits despite it.” He leans in and whispers, “He didn’t actually kidnap you though, did he?”
I give him a pointed look. We both know Luca is capable of anything.
The four men Dmitri came in with are now staring in our direction. Elanee purposefully busies herself in the papers.
“I better attend my meeting. Let me know if you need help, Ara.” As he walks past Elanee, he leans in and whispers something so quietly I can’t hear it. Her fingers curl against the edge of the white tablecloth. He places his hand on her shoulder and squeezes it before walking away.
I want to ask about it, but whatever is going on between those two seems too raw. Especially in the way Elanee tries to articulate the papers. She’s holding them so tight they might tear.
She offers a tight smile, and I swear I see the build-up of a tear. “Now, where were we Miss Barone? Right. I can arrange a meeting with any of these men.”
28
ARA
The day went longer than it should’ve, though it’s not surprising my father put in an unreasonable request and deadline for a new app. It’s eleven in the evening when I finally return home, and I stifle a yawn. My eyebrows furrow at the black square box at my door with red ribbon.
I have no doubt in my mind it’s of Luca’s doing. I pick up the partially heavy box and put it on the counter.
“I know, Tuna. I’m sorry I’m late,” I say at the impatient grumbling cat. I fish a can of tuna out of the cupboard and plate his meal up before I become a part of an article headline Cat Eats Owner’s Face. I swallow at the gruesome thought.
With hands on hips, I come level with the present. I haven’t replied to any of his messages, and Luca is someone who does not appreciate being ignored. I want to blame him for this expediated fiancé process, however I have no one but to blame but myself for not being careful enough.
