Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (38 page)

Chapter 6

At the office, I sat at my desk and pored over files before me. I had allocated the entire day to finding Leon Christensen a match. Once I found him a match, he would no longer be my client. Once Leon Christensen was no longer a client, I didn’t have to worry myself with him anymore and he could fade into the file cabinet with the rest of my past clients.

With Leon Christensen happy and in love, I could smirk at him and know that I was as good as I claimed to be. He would be my greatest triumph. I threw every bit of my professional ability in trying to find him a match that even he, this man who did not believe in love, could not contest. I was determined to be professional, last night’s fantasy notwithstanding.

April had arranged a pile of every female client that we had between the ages of twenty-four and forty. I opened up the first case and began reading.

Her name was Lauren Sinclair, thirty-three years old, never married, a relatively new client. I remembered her interview well. She was a tall, gorgeous brunette who was a highly successful lawyer. She had come across my services from a regular client of hers who was now happily married. When she came in to our meeting, she had been a little reserved, but I could tell that she was eager to find a partner.

“It’s very difficult being a single, successful woman. I don’t have the time to go carousing bars for Mr. Right and even if I did have time, I wouldn’t go about it that way. Many men are threatened by a woman like me, so I would need a man who could look at me as an equal and treat me as such,” Lauren Sinclair had said.

I imagined how she would react when Leon brought out a whip and a dog collar. I laughed loudly in the open room and tossed the folder into a pile that I designated as prospective matches. Even an independent woman demanding respect might like a little submission. More than likely, however, Lauren Sinclair didn’t seem the type.

I picked her folder back up and moved it to a different pile. The rejected pile.

Mandy Harbringer, twenty-nine, married one time, yoga instructor. Her divorce had hit her hard; her husband had cheated on her with her best friend and the two had eloped. When she recounted the story, she fought back tears even as she told me she was over it. Her father had a dozen patents related to rocket propulsion technology and they were incredibly wealthy as a result.

Mandy had a graduate degree in psychology, but didn’t follow through to practice. Yoga had called her and she ended up opening up her own studio, a modest establishment that only took donations. Her blond hair had been tied back and it looked as though she was without a single ounce of fat on her body.

“Aside from yoga, what are some of your interests?” I had asked her.

“I really feel a calling towards animals. I’m a vegan and volunteer at the local ASPCA,” she had said brightly.

Leon Christensen and a vegan yoga instructor, the prospects didn’t look good. I tossed the folder into the rejected pile. Plus, Leon seemed the type to want a girl with more of a figure, not the thin and sinewy type.

I sorted through a few more folders with clients that were all horrible mismatches. One woman had three cats and was unwilling to part with any of them. Leon seemed more like a dog type of guy. Another was looking to have kids within one year and settle down in a house outside of the city. I could just imagine her crawling along the floor with a huge baby bump dragging along the carpet.

I tossed folder after folder into the rejected pile. After lunch, I walked over the massive pile to April to be reorganized and filed. I returned to my office and read through more files. I even read through old files of clients that had ceased to use our services, hoping to find any lead.

I went home without finding anyone. My brain was focused in on the goal at hand, and my lustful thoughts abated for the evening. I was able to relax, but my mind kept returning to the task of setting up Leon Christensen and I gave myself at least a few gray hairs trying to figure out just what type of partner would be best suited for him.

The next day, I reached the end of the pile. I was not to be defeated though. I pulled up the numbers of other matchmaking companies that we were on good terms with. Often, we would turn to each other for especially difficult clients in hopes of finishing the contract. There was a commission paid to the other company, and both clients were satisfied.

I rang Beating Hearts Matchmakers and when the receptionist answered, I had her patch me through to Amanda Rand, the head of the company.

“Amanda, how are you?” I asked.

“I’m well, Julie. I take it you’ve got a difficult one on your hands?” she asked, laughing.

“Something like that, can you fax me over your female clients between the ages of twenty-four and forty. You can weed out the gold diggers and baby boomers right off the bat. I’ll pay normal commission, of course.”

“You’ve got it, Julie. You wanna do drinks soon?”

We agreed to meet for drinks the following week and exchanged a few more words before I hung up. Amanda was an old friend of mine and I had even given her some tips when she started her business. Her rates were lower than my own, so her clients were of a different financial bracket and we weren’t really in competition.

By the end of the day, April had arranged and presented me with the files that had been faxed over from a few other agencies. April had called the other companies for me; I had only made the personal call to Amanda since I enjoyed talking to her. With the pile before me, I decided to start fresh the next day.

The following day was exactly like the previous forays in studying the clients.

A professional thirty-nine year old brunette who didn’t like Thai food. Her file found its way into the rejected pile.

A stunningly beautiful model who traveled extensively for her work. Leon was too grounded in his nightclub operations for that. Rejected.

One client was a teetotaler. The rejected pile grew higher.

Another woman, a twenty-six year old entrepreneur who specialized in nightclub promotion and blogging caught my eye. But when I read over her folder, there was just something about her that gave me a feeling that she wasn’t right for Leon Christensen. Sure, her favorite foods were Thai and she worked in nightclubs, but there was much more to a relationship than that. Plus, she was a little too thin. Leon needed a woman with curves.

Day three of the search for Leon Christensen’s partner ended without any kind of lead. I had even resorted to calling ex-clients and asking them if they knew anybody who would want to come in for a consultation, free of charge. There were a few leads and appointments were made, but I was still staring at piles of folders that seemed to have mixed in with each other to the point that I couldn’t differentiate which pile was which.

I was being extremely picky, sure, but it was only because I needed to nail this one. There couldn’t be the slightest margin of error. Satisfied that I had rejected all of these women for the right reasons, I left the office, my head aching from reading so many files so many times. When I went to bed that night, images of various women swam in my head, making it nearly impossible to fall asleep.

I woke up from a restless sleep, feeling like the gravity in my bedroom was thicker than normal. I felt hung over, despite having not had one drink the previous night. As a younger woman, I could drink all night and sleep for a few hours and as long as I had a greasy breakfast, I bounced back within an hour. Now, if I went to sleep with something on my mind I woke up feeling as if I just got off a two day bender.

I drank too much coffee in an attempt to compensate for my fatigue and my stomach felt acrid with the overflow of black coffee. On my way into work, I drove in silence as my mind raced on, trying to figure out how to solve this problem of finding Leon Christensen a partner.

Why was I so determined to find him a partner immediately? Wouldn’t it be better to give it a few days, let some former clients get back to me with some new leads while I went over my female case files one more time? Surely I may have been a little too harsh on some of the prospective clients.

Perhaps one or two of them deserve to be called in for an interview. Yet when I thought about any of them actually going on a date with Leon, his good looks melting their hearts along with his irresistible charm spreading their legs, I felt a wave of apprehension. I would interview them again, yes, but it was too premature to set up any sort of meeting or date.

At my desk, the stress of finding Leon Christensen a partner lessened, but a new feeling of hopelessness filled the void it left. Leon was a unique case that was proving much harder than any of my other clients. Within the first week I usually had at least one or two prospective partners to match a client with. With Leon, I had none.

I checked emails. I made some phone calls to some other clients about their cases. For two hours I did any and all work that was unrelated to Leon Christensen. I called the hotel chain heir to find out how the first date went, but he didn’t pick up so I left a voicemail. It was short and polite, asking that he return my phone call at his earliest convenience, but that it really was no urgent matter, just a simple follow-up call. I was a bit curious to see how the date went, but it didn’t eat away at me. The hotel chain heir was a very nice guy and I really did want to help him, but it didn’t fill me with the panic that Leon Christensen did.

The outer office door opened and a female’s voice caught my attention. I leaned over to look into the office to see what was going on.

A brunette stood before April’s desk, politely talking to her. I rose from my desk and walked towards my office door, studying her closely. She was strikingly pretty. Her features were soft, yet somehow the shape of her face was sharp. She had a womanly figure of curves that would make any straight man look twice, at least twice, when she passed by, although she was slightly skinnier than me, but not by much. She saw me looking at her and smiled wide. Her teeth glimmered white.

I opened my office door. “Good afternoon,” I said. “How may we help you?”

“Good afternoon to you!” The mysterious woman said brightly. Her voice was high and bubbly. She was in her mid to late twenties, definitely no older than twenty seven. “You must be Julie! Rebecca’s my cousin!” Every sentence she spoke ended with her voice rising an octave and turning even mousier than it had sounded at first.

I racked my brain for a Rebecca.

“My name’s Marilyn Benedict, but everyone calls me Marilyn. Rebecca told me you called her looking for single ladies she knows. I’m a single lady!”

Understanding dawned on me in an instant. “Oh, that Rebecca,” I lied, still not remembering calling any Rebecca, but knowing that it was highly likely that I had. “Please, come in. Would you like anything to drink?”

Marilyn looked back at April and smiled wide again and shook my hand as she walked into my office on tall black stilettos. She wore expensive dress pants and a blouse that showed off just enough cleavage to still be considered classy, but sexy as well. Her breasts were full and round, they no doubt caught the eye of many, if not all, men.

“No, thank you,” she said brightly. I pulled out a chair before my desk and she sat down, crossing her legs as she did. I had a brief flash of the image of Leon crossing his legs when he sat in the exact chair.

“So,” Marilyn said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You are looking for a good match for a male client?”

I sat down behind my desk and took out a notepad. “Yes, I’m trying to find a partner for a particularly tricky client of mine. You should know that normally I charge for both men and women, but as you are coming here on my request, there will be no charge, naturally.”

Marilyn sat in the chair, her eyes focused on me. I looked at her and wondered if she had blinked since she came in. Her mannerisms were friendly and warm, but there was something a little off about her. I wondered if she was nervous and if she knew that I was picking up on it.

“So, we’ll begin with you just telling me about yourself.”

“Ok, what do you want to know?” Marilyn asked, shrugging her shoulders in a very animated way when she said it.

“I’d just like to know some of your interests, basic stuff. Like what your favorite foods are, what you do in your free time, that kind of stuff.”

Marilyn leaned back in the chair, relaxing slightly as she pondered what she was going to say.

“As far as food goes, I absolutely love Asian food, especially Thai. I could live off of Thai food. And for fun, I really enjoy being social, dancing, having great conversations.”

“What do you look for in a man?”

“I need a man with edge,” Marilyn said, lowering her voice. She briefly looked around before continuing, “I don’t know if I should really mention this or not, but I like some rough stuff, if you know what I mean. I don’t mean anything super crazy, but yeah, a little bit of rough stuff is necessary.”

I wrote down ‘a little bit of rough stuff’ in my notebook.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, studying her.

“Well, I’m into BDSM. I was introduced to it a few years back by this guy who was a Dom. So naturally I fell into the role of the sub. Do you know what both those are?” Marilyn asked me, her voice showing a hint of concern over my alleged ignorance.

“I’m aware of the roles of BDSM,” I said.

“I mean, aside from sex, I need a man who has a great sense of humor. And by that I mean very dry, dark, and sarcastic. I like when a man is quick on his feet and can tear things apart with his words. A man must be smart to be able to be with me.”

I was taking notes on everything Marilyn was saying, wishing now that I had recorded this. I hadn’t expected much when I saw her, but now it seemed like she was giving me answers that were right in accordance with what I had been searching for. Yet even though she had taken a good amount of time to consider her responses, I could hear something odd in her voice. It showed through her expressions too, but I couldn’t place it. It was as though she was hamming herself up or reciting a written passage.