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“I could go on, if you like.”
He knew exactly what he was doing. The man was a damn menace.
“Not necessary,” she said firmly and took a deep breath. “That’s all for now. We should have our background check and review of your social media profiles completed within the week. After that’s done, we begin the process of pulling together a list of women based on your criteria. Hopefully, there will be at least ten solid candidates. We’ll invite them to a mixer and make the introductions. From the mixer, I hope you’ll find at least two or three you’d want to go on future dates with.”
“What if I don’t like any of them?” Bruno asked.
“Then we start the process again and perhaps take a second look at some of the women we had eliminated. If necessary, we can find more for you to meet.”
“In the eight years you’ve been doing this, what is your success rate?”
“If you count success as finding meaningful matches that begin a long-term relationship, ninety-one percent of my matches are successful. Seventy percent have ended in marriage.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “That’s a high number.”
“I take pride in doing the best job possible for my clients. As one of my clients, you can expect, and will receive, excellent service.” Marissa closed the leather-bound notepad. “Do you have any more questions for me before we conclude our meeting?”
“None that I can think of at the moment.”
“Well then…” She stood.
Bruno stood as well, towering over her at over six feet, the width of his shoulders practically expanding halfway across the room. She wasn’t particularly small—coming in at five feet seven and a half inches—but he made her feel petite.
“Actually, I just thought of a question,” Bruno said. “Have you ever slept with a client?”
His question took her aback. “Excuse me?”
“Have you ever slept with a client?” he repeated.
Direct eye contact. No flinching.
Her gut tightened. Was he simply asking the question out of curiosity, or was he fishing for personal reasons?
“Never.”
Bruno held her gaze, as if challenging her. “Maybe the right man could tempt you.”
“No man could tempt me, Mr. Santana,” Marissa said, a hard note in her voice.
“Bruno.”
She took a deep breath to tamp down her annoyance. “Bruno, getting involved with a client is unprofessional and unethical. You need to be able to trust me and know I won’t use what I learn about you to my advantage. Or sabotage your dates for my own personal reasons. I am not available, but I can find you a woman who is.”
He surveyed her with begrudging respect, and she breathed easier. She’d had clients hit on her before and knew how to handle them. His interest, however, was particularly troublesome because he struck her as the kind who didn’t give up easily. If he was interested, she hoped he got the message.
Marissa escorted Bruno to the lobby.
Before exiting, he turned to face her. “It was a pleasure talking to you, Marissa. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
“It was a pleasure talking to you too.”
His gaze lingered on her for a beat before he walked out the double doors, and she tore her eyes from his retreating back instead of doing what she wanted to do, which was watch him walk to the elevator.
He was one of those men who reeked of sexiness in the way he carried himself. His walk, the way he talked, his bearing. There was a word on the tip of her tongue to describe his appeal, but she couldn’t quite think of it right then. The word should come to her later.
“Yum.” Lori, the receptionist, approached as Marissa headed to her office. “Confirmed new client?”
“Yes.”
