Chapter 18
Marissa had spent the weekend thinking, and she knew what to do.
On Monday morning, she entered the office with a cheery, “Hey, Lori,” for the receptionist before briskly walking back to her office.
Her plan of action was simple. She was going to ask the CEO to remove her as Bruno’s matchmaker. There were other qualified matchmakers in the company who could find him the right partner. His removal as her client would eliminate the tension of working together and safeguard her job.
Marissa didn’t go to see Arnie right away. She spent the morning working on projects for other clients and sent a written testimonial that arrived in her email overnight to their webmaster to post on the site. By the time eleven thirty came around, she made the decision not to delay any longer and went down the hall. When she arrived at the CEO’s office, his executive assistant was nowhere to be found, so Marissa sailed past her empty desk and knocked twice on the door.
Arnie’s voice boomed from the other side. “Come in.”
She smoothed her tightly bound hair and entered the office, closing the door behind her. Arnie Rogers’ hulking body was hunched over his desk, marking up a paper with a red pen. He didn’t look the way one would expect the owner of a matchmaking services firm to look. He was a giant—over six and a half feet—with meaty arms squeezed into the sleeves of a powder blue shirt and a jawline as square as a Rubik’s cube.
That’s why he was not the face of the company. His sister, Angela, was the Director of Marketing and did the promotional interviews and commercials and starred in the videos they posted to the website. She was over six feet with the same black hair, but her appearance fit more in line with the brand the company wanted to project to potential clients. Cool, polished, sexy. None of which came to mind with Arnie.
“I don’t want to work with Bruno Santana anymore. May I be reassigned?” No point in beating around the bush.
Arnie looked up from the paperwork with a frown. “Who’s that?” His voice was as gravelly as his appearance.
Marissa took the seat in front of his desk. “A client I received as a referral from the Beverly Hills office. He’s a chef and entrepreneur, good-looking, wealthy.”
“How wealthy?”
“He’s a billionaire and owns several restaurants in town—Garlique, Bruno’s Tavern?—”
“Wait a minute, I know him. The man is a living legend! I read a write up about him in Atlanta Magazine a while back. He’s earned a total of seventeen Michelin stars across his restaurants!”
“Nineteen,” Marissa corrected.
“Even better. Let me tell you, if you’ve never been to Bruno’s Tavern, you should give the place a try. It’s a sports bar that serves elite level food. We’re talking gourmet burgers made with Wagyu beef and served on buns from a bakery he owns across town.” He kissed his fingertips and smacked his lips as if he tasted the food right then and there.
Marissa refocused on the purpose of her visit. “I’m glad to hear you enjoy his food, but I don’t believe Mr. Santana and I are a good match.”
“And why is that? He’s a prestigious client. Did something negative come back on the background check?” Arnie set down his pen.
“No,” Marissa admitted slowly. “The background check came back fine, and I’ve already completed a mixer for him. He’s been on a couple of dates. My first problem is, I’m not convinced he’s serious about finding a life partner or looking for love.”
“And two?”
“Two?”
“You said ‘my first problem is.’ I assume there’s at least one more,” Arnie explained patiently.
“Oh. Well, he…” Marissa struggled to find a legitimate reason. “He-he and I don’t mesh. Our beliefs about relationships don’t align. He doesn’t believe in soulmates, and I’m a little put off that he wants to find a woman who can travel with him on a whim. A woman as arm candy to attend his events, like some kind of-of—1950’s housewife.” She was exaggerating but needed her excuse to sound believable.
Arnie arched his right eyebrow, and her stomach tanked.
“He’s our first billionaire. Do you have any idea what kind of doors that will open if he’s willing to let us share his story of finding a wife through us? If he’s willing to tell his rich friends about us?”
“But—”
“What type of company are we running here?” he asked.
Marissa deflated. “A matchmaking service,” she mumbled.
“What was that?”
“A matchmaking service,” she repeated louder.
“Exactly.”
“But Arnie?—”
“Marissa, we match people based on their needs, not our preferences. If he thinks soulmates are a crock of shit and wants a wife to greet him at the door with a martini while wearing an apron and high heels—or whatever—who are we to say that’s not acceptable?”
“He said he only expects to be married temporarily. He’s going into a relationship with the intent to walk away—probably as soon as problems arise.”
Arnie shrugged. “Because things don’t always work out. Hell, I’m divorced. He has a pretty realistic view of marriage if you ask me. Unlike someone who thinks love is forever.” He stared right at her.
Marissa pressed her lips together to keep an ugly retort from flying out of her mouth. They had a good relationship—however, he was her boss.
“I don’t think love is forever for everyone, but when the right people meet and fall in love, it could last forever—through trials and tribulations, ups and downs.” Lindsay the Sexy Diva had discussed that idea recently, and Marissa had agreed.
“What’s the real problem here?” Arnie asked.
“He’s so… I don’t know… There’s something about him. I don’t like him.”
He made her body ache. He made her panties wet. She hated the shaky, out-of-control way she behaved around him, while he remained poised and in control. She wanted more of his kisses and his hands all over her body. She wanted his head between her thighs, and this time without the barrier of clothes. He brought her back to her basic instincts as a woman, reducing her to lustful thoughts and the desire to be taken and conquered.
“You don’t have to like him. You’re not going to marry the man, you’re going to find him a woman he’s so excited about that he wants to make her his wife. You’ve worked with difficult clients before.”
She acknowledged the truth with a head nod. “Okay, if the woman of his dreams doesn’t mean falling in love, and that’s how he chooses to spend his hard-earned money, I won’t judge. But why do I have to be the one to help him? One of the other matchmakers would be a better fit. What about Rick?”
“He has his hands full with enough clients already.”
Rick stayed booked because some of the men they worked with requested a male matchmaker, believing he understood their needs better as a man and was therefore better equipped to find the right woman for them. Never mind there was no evidence to back up such a theory.
Traditionally, women dominated the field, but more men were entering the industry. The main characteristics necessary for success included intuition, great analytical and communication skills, and sensitivity to cultures and diversity.
“What about Wanda?”
“What about you?” Arnie tossed back.
Marissa sighed.
“What’s the real reason you have a problem with this guy?”
She swallowed. She couldn’t reveal the real reason. That they’d kissed, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what making love to him would be like. Bruno made her entire body flush hot in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time, and she couldn’t act on the feeling because of the company rule.
The rule kept the lines from blurring and ensured staff didn’t use Executive Match as their personal dating service. Being privy to the client’s preferences meant a staff member could “become” whatever a potential client desired, which was unethical, to say the least.
“I believe he’d be better off with someone else.”
“I disagree. I believe you’re the person who can find him the woman of his dreams—whatever that looks like. You have the highest success rate in the company, and you’re good at what you do. Put aside your reservations, your personal biases, and think about this client in an objective way, the way you do all your clients. Mr. Santana needs our help, or he wouldn’t have come here. You said this was a referral, directly to you, correct?”
Marissa nodded.
“Then you need to help him. We land this guy a wife, we could get others like him. You know how important word-of-mouth is in our industry. That’s how my mother built this business. Key word—business. Businesses have to make money. That’s how you get those monthly checks.” He smiled smugly, as if he’d won the argument.
Marissa slumped in defeat. Clearly, she would not be able to change Arnie’s mind, and he had a point. It didn’t matter if she agreed with the client’s reasons for finding a mate. In fact, she had one client now—an older gentleman who was looking for a younger woman. If a match led to marriage, great. If not, he was fine with that too. According to him, he wasn’t dead and wanted to enjoy his last days.
Bruno came to them for a service, and her job was to provide it.
“Now please go do the thing I pay you to do,” Arnie said.
With a soft sigh, Marissa left his office and trudged to her own. Inside, she went to the window and placed a fist on her hip as she went through a bag of Cheetos.
She had failed and had to continue her working relationship with Bruno.
She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. After eight years in the industry, Bruno might be her biggest challenge yet—and could be the reason she lost her job—if she didn’t get her attraction under control.
Time for them to have a serious talk.