Chapter 8
Marissa stepped into the private room of Notte, a popular Italian restaurant in town. Tonight, she wore a red dress and had her hair pulled back in the usual bun. She greeted Wanda, the other matchmaker who would help her with Bruno’s mixer tonight.
“We all set?” she asked, placing her messenger bag on top of the bar.
Wanda had gray hairs sprinkled throughout her short Afro, ebony skin, and a penchant for large earrings. She sat on one of the stools at the bar and nodded. “All set.”
“Karen called and said she’d be a few minutes late,” Marissa said, checking her phone for additional messages. “But that shouldn’t be a problem since Bruno is scheduled to arrive half an hour after they do.”
She always asked the men to arrive later, which gave her a chance to brief the women on their potential suitors, answer questions, and get them ready for the evening.
Executive Match, Inc. had completed Bruno’s background check, and since he wasn’t a serial killer and his finances checked out, they had moved to the next stage of finding him a life partner.
The company had developed relationships with several restaurants around town where they could hold mixers, and tonight they were in Notte’s private room with a dedicated bar, bartender, and several servers. This was one of her favorite places to throw the speed-dating type of mixer because the food was delicious and the service impeccable.
A few minutes later, the women started arriving. Marissa had invited ten in all. As each one entered the room, she and Wanda greeted them, coached them, and engaged them in conversation to help them relax. A few were newbies, but seven had been to at least one previous mixer. There were five blondes, and the others a mix of brown hair and black hair. Eight white women, one Asian, and a Black woman.
Each woman had her own style and unique background, but Marissa made sure they all fit within Bruno’s required criteria. Breasts and ass, intelligent, wanted children, great conversationalist, etc.
When the man of the hour arrived, he was immaculate in a navy suit jacket, matching pants, and a white shirt. They all turned their attention to him.
Marissa immediately sensed the difference in the room. His presence sent a surge of electricity leaping across the tables, and his smile probably melted a couple of panties if the women’s dreamy expressions were any indication.
“Hello, ladies,” he said in his smooth, accented voice.
They all said hello back, several of them giggling.
“I’ll prep him, and you get the women ready,” Marissa whispered to Wanda.
She made her way over to Bruno, and his gray eyes tracked her movements as he unbuttoned his jacket.
“Do you mind stepping over here with me for a moment?” Marissa asked.
They went into a corner to talk. Tonight, he was clean-shaven and wore a different cologne. The stronger scent contained leather undertones and made her want to lean closer. To touch the wall of his hard chest again. She quickly dismissed those feelings and focused on preparing him.
“Before we get started, I want to remind you of the rules for the evening. We’ll make a brief introduction, and then you’ll have private time with each woman. Ten minutes with each of them, and at the end of the evening you’ll let me know your top three. Then we’ll arrange the dates.”
“Sounds good.”
“All right. Let’s get started.”
Marissa called the women together and introduced Bruno, and they immediately started flirting and practically staring at him with heart eyes. She couldn’t blame them. The man was stunning. Since their first meeting she had been searching for an adjective to describe him, and her mind finally gave her the vocabulary tonight. Bruno was debonair, with an urbane sense of suave.
He was also a natural in this environment. Charming and friendly, he cracked a few jokes and made them all giggle. How was he still on the market? It had to be by choice, because any woman he’d dated before should have sunk her claws into him already.
His first ten-minute session was with one of the blondes, a woman named Casey. Twenty-eight years old and currently working as the manager of a department store, which she had confided she hated. She would have no problem quitting to devote time to supporting her spouse.
Marissa led them to a table in the corner of the room where they could speak in private. A few minutes in, she and Wanda were comparing notes at the bar when Casey let out a peal of laughter. Marissa twisted her head in the direction of her and Bruno. Casey’s hand landed on his biceps as she leaned in closer, as if he’d told the funniest joke she’d ever heard. You’d think he was a damn stand-up comedian the way she was laughing.
“I want to know what that joke is,” Wanda muttered out the side of her mouth.
Marissa snorted. “Me too.”
After three rounds of conversation, Marissa checked in with Bruno to get his feedback. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“So far so good.” He had removed the jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing corded hair-sprinkled forearms. He held a drink in his hand, looking relaxed and at ease, as if he was the host at a party in his own home.
“You did a good job picking the women. I’m going to have a difficult time deciding which ones to go on a date with.”
Normally, a comment like that filled her with excitement and pride. Not this time, however. Her excitement was tempered. “I’m happy to hear that. It’s important to us that you find a good match, and we pride ourselves on listening to your needs to make sure we don’t waste your time or the time of the women we choose for you.”
Leaning his shoulder against the wall, Bruno took a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. She hadn’t been present when he ordered, but if she had to guess, something about his demeanor suggested he was a bourbon man.
“I appreciate how thorough you are. Considering how difficult the dating scene is, I should have done this before.”
“Our goal is to make the entire process easier. That’s why you hired us.”
“Have you ever used a matchmaking service?” Bruno asked.
“No,” she replied.
“Why not?”
“Mr. Santa?—”
“Bruno, remember? Why do you have such a hard time saying my first name? I’m starting to get offended.” With an expression of amusement on his face, he didn’t look the least bit offended.
Why did she have such a hard time? Maybe because using his first name evoked a level of intimacy that she wanted to avoid.
“I’m sorry. I’ll make the effort to remember moving forward.”
“I would appreciate it. Now, back to your answer. Why haven’t you ever used a matchmaking service?”
“If you must know…”
“I must,” he said.
She had the distinct impression he was secretly laughing at her.
“Dating isn’t a priority right now.”
“What is a priority?”
Marissa laughed lightly. “Mr.—Bruno, our conversation is getting a little personal, don’t you think?”
“You know everything about me, right down to my net worth. A mutual exchange of information will improve our work relationship.”
“I need to know all about you because I’m trying to find you a wife, remember?”
“It’s important that I know something about you, since you asked me to trust you from the first day we met, remember?” He held her gaze.
She didn’t appreciate him tossing her words back in her face, but she didn’t want to alienate him, either. Sharing a little about herself wouldn’t hurt.
“I’m not used to clients inquiring about my personal life, but since you insist, I’ll answer your question. I’m going to buy a house later this year, and I’ve been preparing for that—paying off my debts, saving as much as I can. There’s also the possibility of a promotion at the company. I’m working hard so I’ll at least be considered for the opportunity.”
“Thank you for accommodating me, and the owners would be a fool not to consider you for the promotion,” Bruno said.
Pleased by the compliment, Marissa’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you for the compliment. Now, your next date?—”
“No man in your life, though?” Bruno asked.
“Excuse me?”
“There is no man in your life?” He swirled the amber liquid in the glass.
“Not at the moment.”
“Hmm.”
She didn’t want to know what that meant. Their conversation was getting dangerously personal. “Next up is Deanne. She works at CNN.”
Marissa walked away, struggling to maintain a natural walk because she could feel Bruno’s gray eyes burning a hole in her back. She sent Deanne—a Black woman with caramel skin—over to him and returned to the bar with Wanda.
“Everything good? You seem upset,” the older woman said.
“I’m fine.” She wished she drank. Alcohol could probably settle her nerves. “No problems at all, and Bruno is happy with the choices so far. After the next three, I’ll let you check in with our bachelor, and I’ll mingle with the women. It’s good for us to mix things up a bit.”
“Fine by me.”
That wasn’t the only reason. Marissa needed a break from Bruno. He was intrusive and made her uncomfortable. She wished she didn’t have to talk to him at all for the rest of the night.