Chapter 4
The conversation continued for another half hour and covered political preferences and religion, where he explained he was a non-practicing Catholic.
Finally, Marissa asked, “Do you have any preferences in the bedroom that I should be aware of?”
She kept her voice matter-of-fact, but this question often resulted in a moment of awkwardness, which was why she left it for last, until they’d established a rapport. Men were either eager to share their proclivities or didn’t deem the answer any of her business.
“Are you asking if I have a dungeon in the basement where I handcuff and tie up unsuspecting women?” he asked slowly, his voice low and seductive.
He was trying to shock her, but a flash of heat touched her skin. She’d never heard anyone make being tied up in a dungeon sound so deliciously hot before.
Her pulse rate increased, but she kept her voice cool and even. “Yes, I am. Sex is an important part of any relationship, and matching you to the right woman involves sexual compatibility. If you like tying up women in your dungeon, I need to know about said dungeon so the women I match you with don’t run away screaming when you haul them down there and break out the whips and chains.”
A slow smile touched his lips. That smile was damn dangerous. His lips were sculpted with a sensual curve that hinted at mischief and the promise of pleasure.
Holding her captive with his eyes, Bruno spoke in the same low voice. “I am as much a perfectionist in the bedroom as I am in the kitchen. I like to be in control in the bedroom, but it’s very important to me that any woman I sleep with experiences the utmost pleasure. I always take care of my lovers’ needs first. Their satisfaction is my number one priority, and no woman leaves my bed unsatisfied. No whips and chains needed.”
There was carnal promise in every syllable he spoke.
Her pulse rioting out of control, Marissa nodded and then scribbled gibberish on her notepad with a shaky hand to buy time. She couldn’t ever remember reacting to a client in this way before. That was enough probing into his sex life.
“Thank you for that thorough answer.”
“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.”
Lori tucked her short dark hair behind an ear. “If his looks are anything to go by, he should be an easy match.”
“I’m sure we can find someone for him, but whether or not he likes them will remain to be seen.”
Lori wrinkled her nose. “Picky? Although that’s to be expected.”
“Not really. Considering his wealth, he’s one of the more reasonable ones. His biggest problem might be that he doesn’t trust the process,” Marissa said. Or believe in love, she mentally added.
“Oh, one of those. Well, I have no doubt you’ll get him straightened out. You’re one of the best. I hope I get to work with you when I’m promoted to matchmaker.”
Lori had been working for the company for a little over six months, with aspirations to become a matchmaker when the opportunity arose. When that day came, a senior matchmaker, such as Marissa, would mentor her and help her learn the ropes.
“I hope you do too. Has Arnie mentioned anything to you about an opening?”
Arnie Rogers was the current CEO.
“Nothing yet. Keep your fingers crossed for me?”
“Will do.” Marissa held up crossed fingers.
“And I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. If anyone should get the head matchmaker position, it’s you.”
The current head matchmaker had recently become a grandmother and let the company know she was leaving next year to move closer to her son and his expanding family.
“I don’t know about that, but thanks.”
The head matchmaker position meant more money and bonuses, but she didn’t anticipate getting the position. More than likely, Arnie would pick someone who had more experience than she did. Rick, in their office, and several women in the Beverly Hills and New York offices had been with the company longer.
As she walked away, Lori called out, “Any lunch plans?”
“Eating at my desk. I want to get started on Mr. Santana’s matches. Rain check?”
“Sounds good.”
Back in her office, Marissa dropped her notepad on her draw-less glass desk and slid onto her rolling white leather chair. The sun shined bright through a small window in the corner that provided a sliver of a view of the street between her building and the one next door.
The room was small but neat, decorated in mostly white with teal and pink accents. Growing up, her home had practically been a sty, and perhaps she over-corrected as an adult, but she hated clutter. Dust and dirt gave her the heebie-jeebies. Despite them having a cleaning crew at the office, she did her own cleaning once a week and every couple of days wiped the doorknobs and handles with disposable antibacterial wipes.
She went to the locker where she kept her files and other documents and moved aside a stack of papers to reveal her stash of hidden junk food on the middle shelf. She lifted out a bag of Twizzlers.
Whenever she was nervous or upset, she ate. The problem was, she never ate anything good for her, such as celery sticks or an apple. No, she always stuffed her face with sugar or carbs.
Closing the door, she bit off a piece of the candy and chewed, slowly pacing to her desk, where she laid the full bag. She walked to the window and gazed down at the street below.
An odd energy ran through her veins. She felt off. Jittery.
Shaking off her unease, Marissa swung away from the view, sat behind her desk, and logged into her laptop. Executive Match’s database was filled with men and women from around the country and the world looking for their perfect match, and her job was to find that one person for Bruno.
Originally, they helped everyone find love, but over the years, thanks to dating apps, their services became less needed. Around that time, the owner and founder—Celestine Rogers—retired, and her children took control of the company. Noting the decline in sales and clients, they pivoted to provide a more exclusive service, and Executive Match was born.
Marissa had been with the company throughout the transition and the difference was noticeable. They had fewer clients but made more money because of the high level of service they provided to people in a higher income bracket.
Scrolling through the list of potential women, she filtered the possibilities by the criteria Bruno stated he was looking for and found five blondes. She saved them in a folder before continuing her search. By the time she was finished, she had a list of twenty-two possible women.
His background check needed to be conducted, but at least she had a start.