Chapter 3
Eva
A worker dressed in all black with her hair in a tight bun quickly mopped up the spill. The back-and-forth motion of the mop head mesmerized me. As the motion continued, soaking up every drop, I followed a stray splash leading to my black suede boots. A few soda drops had stained them during the explosion. So embarrassing.
I couldn’t believe I had dabbed a complete stranger with napkins. It was something that would only happen in the movies, not in real life.
With the glasses all straightened, I joined the crowd circling the familiar golden-haired, middle-aged man with a microphone. The jazz music playing earlier had come to a soft whisper. Many clients who came into the office regularly were standing next to members of my family. Wait—besides Dion and Grandma Alice, why were there other relatives here?
The voice of Bianca interrupted my thoughts. “Are you okay? Who was that guy?” Bianca asked with a concerned look. She scanned my body from head to toe in search of anything out of sorts.
“Sam,” I purred. His name spoken from my lips felt right.
“Dion and I saw what happened with the drink,” Bianca whispered, appearing at my other side. “Yikes. Hopefully, he isn’t a potential client, or he might never become one.”
I shot her a warning look, but couldn’t help stealing another glance at Sam. There was something endearing about his awkwardness—a refreshing change from the polished, practiced charm I usually encountered at these events. Most men came to our mixers with an agenda, armed with rehearsed lines and calculated moves. But Sam… Sam seemed genuinely, refreshingly real.
I glared at her. “Thanks. I thought you were here to support me, not pester me like Dion.”
“Speaking of Dion—”
“No!” I stopped Bianca before she could even finish.
I did not want to know my arrogant, full-of-lust cousin had caught my best friend’s eye. Bianca’s value exceeded Dion’s, and I didn’t want her to be just another conquest for him. I was looking out for her.
Not wanting to think about it anymore, I faced straight ahead and paid attention to the voice coming through the sound system.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming to our Heartstrings Matchmaking mixer. This is a time for current clients and prospective ones to mingle and enjoy a good glass of nectar of the gods,” he said and held up his full glass of a golden-orange liquid.
After a sip, he continued. “I am so proud to have formed bonds with so many of you and to have been able to help countless others find their genuine love match. It wasn’t easy for some, but the result made it worthwhile. With all this being said, I have retired, and I’m leaving Heartstrings Matchmaking to my daughter, Eva. Here’s to your destiny, baby girl!”
Dad raised his glass, and everyone applauded as a few heads turned. With the music’s return, the crowd dispersed.
What had just happened? Me, take over the business? No, I couldn’t. I was not ready.
“Eva, I want to introduce you to Sam. He is a prospective client,” Dad said. The guy’s gaze was like a laser beam, focused and unwavering.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sam,” I replied as my cheeks heated. Of course the guy had to be a prospective client.
“Likewise,” he said and shook my hand.
The three of us talked business. Sam was on the fence about joining Heartstrings Matchmaking.
Grandma Alice called for me during a pause in the conversation with Sam. I excused myself. My grandma was one who did not have patience to wait. I wasn’t sure if it was her aura of superiority she had.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Who was that guy you were talking to?” she asked.
“Oh, just a prospective client.” I tried to keep my voice casual.
“Hmm, interesting.” The rose quartz crystal caught the twinkle lights, casting tiny pink shadows across the bar. “He doesn’t seem like your usual type of client. Most of them practically throw themselves at you, hoping some of your family’s matchmaking magic will rub off.”
“He’s different,” I admitted finally. “But different isn’t necessarily bad.”
“No,” Alice agreed, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “It’s not.”
The mixer continued around us, a swirl of hopeful singles and comfortable couples, all seeking something—love, connection, or maybe just a decent glass of wine. But my thoughts kept drifting back to spilled soda and awkward smiles, to genuine embarrassment and eyes that couldn’t quite meet mine.
Being the daughter of Eros meant I was supposed to see the potential for love everywhere. But tonight, for the first time in a while, I found myself wondering if maybe I’d been looking in the wrong places.