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Bruno flipped the switch on the wall and illuminated the chef’s kitchen. The top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances reflected the overhead lights. “I’d rather not say.”
Ignacio chuckled. “Still on the prowl. Are you having a hard time finding a girlfriend in Atlanta?”
“You make me sound like some kind of animal on the hunt.”
“Dating is akin to hunting. You size up your prey—women—and then go in for the kill. Hopefully, you’ve chosen good meat.”
“Remind me never to ask you for dating advice,” Bruno said in a dry tone. He opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of water.
“You’re a thirty-six-year-old somewhat attractive man?—”
“Somewhat?”
His brother laughed. “Compared to me—yes, somewhat. But anyway, you’re in your mid-thirties, no children, never married, with a net worth above a billion dollars. Yet you don’t have a serious girlfriend, and you don’t have any prospects. Why do you believe that is?”
“I can’t find a good woman,” Bruno muttered, taking a sip of water as he leaned against the nine foot waterfall island in the middle of the kitchen.
“Good women are everywhere. Do you even know what you want?”
The question made Bruno stop and think. What did he want?
“I need a wife.”
“A what?”
“I need a wife,” Bruno reiterated, leaning into the idea. “I don’t want to waste time on dates and suffer through mundane conversations with women I have nothing in common with.”
“You’re serious?”
When he first spoke the words, he’d been speaking out of frustration but realized that he meant what he said.
Bruno nodded as if Ignacio were standing before him. “I am serious. With a wife, I’d have a regular companion. A solid plus one for events. Someone to travel with…and eventually I want to have a child or two.”
“Consider yourself lucky I called, because I might be able to help you.”
“How?” Bruno asked slowly, suspiciously.
“This is a good idea, I promise. Do you remember Roman? He owns several clubs out here.”
“Yes, I remember you talking about him.”
“He’s engaged.”
Bruno frowned. “Who in the world is marrying him?”
“He had a hard time finding women who matched his personality and energy and understood his lifestyle. Until he contacted a matchmaking service—Executive Match, Inc.”
Bruno groaned. “So you think I’m desperate.”
“Matchmaking has nothing to do with desperation. It’s a business. They provide a service. Executive Match caters to high end clients—basically, people like you.”
Bruno pulled out a sleek leather stool and sat at the island. His brows furrowed tight as he mulled the idea in his head. Why not hire someone to prune the weeds? Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Perhaps Ignacio was right. A matchmaking service wasn’t a half bad idea.
“Hello, Bruno. Are you still there?”
“I’m here. I’ll think about it.” He drained the water bottle.
“What is there to think about? You didn’t enjoy your date tonight, the second date in the past two weeks that didn’t go well. Try Executive Match. They have an office in Atlanta. Roman is here at my place, and I can find out if his matchmaker could recommend someone in the Atlanta office. Don’t worry, I won’t mention the request is for you.”
