Ella’s missing smile made sense to Hadley now. “You’re worried about the assistant.”
“His boss sounds…demanding. Harsh. A bit of a jerk.”
That wasn’t a client Hadley wanted to take on. “Where do things stand after your last call?”
A sheepish expression flitted across Ella’s face. “Whether he makes the flight reservation or I do?”
Hadley wasn’t upset, but she needed Ella to be firmer with potential clients. Especially possible jerks. “No isn’t a four-letter word.”
“He said he would be fired if you didn’t show up.” Ella’s voice cracked.
“Assistants always say that.” Hadley smiled at Ella. “As soon as anyone hears your voice, they know you’re a softy.”
“Not that soft.” Ella showed off her bicep. “At least not anymore. I’ve lost twenty pounds and am working out at the gym now.”
“Good for you.” Hadley needed to do the same. And would. If she ever had any free time to exercise. At least she ate healthier now because of the kids. “But you’re way friendlier to people, including strangers, than I am. That’s why everyone likes you more than they like me.”
“They don’t.” Ella’s words shot out fast, but they lacked conviction.
“Yes, they do. And I don’t mind.”
Hadley was a business owner, not vying for a congeniality award. She wouldn’t call herself standoffish, but she kept a comfortable distance from her clients, never mixing business with pleasure. She’d learned that lesson at a previous job.
“Did you explain my procedure for taking on a new client?” she asked.
“Yes. I also emailed him the info packet.” Ella blew out a breath.
“I hear a but coming.”
“But he said his boss didn’t have time to do all that.”
Of course, he said that because bosses never did. But finding love was something they had to make time for if they wanted her help. Guess this “boss” didn’t.
Not a problem.
“You handled everything correctly once again.”
Ella shrugged. “I didn’t tell him to find another matchmaker.”
The words sank in. “Why not?”
“His boss is Blaise Mortenson.” She sounded impressed. “I know you don’t like to bend the rules—”
“I don’t bend rules. Ever.” If Hadley hadn’t become a matchmaker, her father said she would have been the perfect five-star army general.
“The assistant’s name is Trevor. He’s a new hire, who hasn’t had the job for a month. He doesn’t want to be fired.”
“Even if he is, it’s not your fault.”
Ella stared at her monitor and nodded.
“Blaise Mortenson.” Hadley rolled the name through her mind. A little familiar, but no details sprang to mind. That told her he probably wasn’t marriage material, no matter his net worth. “Remind me who he is.”
“He’s the founder and CEO of Blai$e. It’s spelled with a dollar sign for the S. Financial sector. Multibillion-dollar investment funds. Hi-tech algorithms. His last known net worth…” Ella leaned closer to her monitor. “One point two billion dollars. But that’s an old figure.”
Blai$e.
Hadley knew exactly who he was.
Unfortunately.
His attitude—well, that of his assistant, Trevor—didn’t surprise her.
She’d never met Blaise, but she’d researched him as a possible match for a client over a year ago.
Blaise Mortenson was gorgeous and self-made, which was usually a good thing, except he had an ego the size of Oregon, where he lived. He also had a reputation of being a difficult boss. He’d been in the news recently because of an exodus of high-level employees, including programmers. That had led to a heated run-in between Blaise and a reporter.
Hadley didn’t know if the guy’s anger issues, arrogance, or stress had caused the argument, but Blaise’s actions didn’t impress her. If anything, they reaffirmed her initial research. Forget his request to travel to him—not that she did that for anyone. He wasn’t the kind of client she wanted. But even so, she needed to be polite if he called.
Or made an appointment with her.
She stood. “If Trevor calls again…”
As if on cue, the phone rang.
“Transfer the call to me if it’s him.” Hadley needed to turn Ella’s frown into a smile. “And don’t worry. I know this isn’t the assistant’s fault. I’ll be pleasant.”
And Hadley would. The guy couldn’t help it if he worked for an egotistical jerk. She gave him points for trying to follow orders.
Even if he had no chance of doing what his boss asked.
CHAPTER THREE
Blaise entered his office and left the door ajar. No one would make it past his new assistant. Trevor was twenty-five, energetic, and eager to please, but he had much to learn about being an executive assistant. Not surprising though, since he’d been in the position for only three weeks. That, however, was two weeks longer than his predecessor, so Blaise was hopeful the guy would work out.
He loosened his tie.
What was the name of the other one?
Sheila.
No, Siobhan.
She’d spent more time crying in the bathroom than sitting at her desk. Blaise didn’t care about her being “highly sensitive.” This was a high-pressure environment, not preschool. Sometimes people, including him, raised their voices and yelled. It wasn’t personal. Simply business. Siobhan must have realized she wasn’t cut out for the job because she quit before he could fire her.
So far Trevor hadn’t cried. He’d come close last Thursday. On Friday, too. But Monday was a new day.
A brand-new week, as a matter of fact.
Too bad it was only eight forty in the morning and not Friday night.
Blaise yawned.
The comfortable couch called to him, but he sat at his desk.
He set the alarm on his cell phone, rested his elbows on his desk, cradled his head, and closed his eyes. The darkness and quiet soothed the thoughts pounding in his brain. He called the brief periods of rest nano-naps. They helped him stay alert all day, especially when he arrived before the markets opened in New York.
Blaise inhaled, filling his lungs to capacity before exhaling through his mouth. That didn’t relieve the tension knotting the cords at the back of his neck. But he continued the breathing until…
Beep-beep-beep.
He startled. Opened his eyes. Straightened.
As he shut off the alarm, he noticed the time. Almost nine. He’d managed a few minutes of sleep, but he still felt wiped out. Far from typical for a Monday, but he hadn’t expected to be chastised for forty minutes by two board members this morning.
Stop micromanaging.
Let go of control.
Be nicer.
Smile.
Compliment people.
Attend an anger management course.
Blaise’s muscles tightened. They acted like he went on rampages with his staff. He didn’t or hadn’t. Yes, he expected hard work. Of course, he raised his voice, as needed. More than once he’d lost his temper. So had others in similar positions.
Well, everyone except Dash.
Nothing phased the Wonderkid.
Blaise wanting to know what was going on with a project shouldn’t be a big deal. This was his company. One privately held and making people an obscene amount of money. But the only thing the Board of Directors wanted to oversee these days was him.
Which was ridiculous.
His employees were fortunate to work at Blai$e. So what if he didn’t sing “Kumbaya” with them every day? Or put on a cheery morning meeting, AKA “asa no chorei,” as they did in Japan?
That wasn’t his style.
But he did what he could—and listened to the HR department’s recommendations—to keep his employees healthy and happy with extra days off and every on-site benefit known to tech employees on the West Coast. Not to mention giving yearly bonuses
at Christmastime based on profits. Last spring’s move into a state-of-the-art corporate headquarters allotted dedicated space for mental health experts, ergonomic specialists, massage therapists, and personal trainers. He’d brought in experts on drug abuse, which had become an issue for companies because of the long hours, workload, and stress. The private gym rivaled commercial ones. Chefs provided healthy food and beverages to keep workers from relying on a steady diet of energy drinks and junk food.
But why wasn’t that enough?
Blaise balled his hands.
The board didn’t care what he did for employees. They wanted to focus on Blaise.
His failings. His faults. His flaws.
As if they’d been the ones who created a business in a studio apartment with one employee—him—and turned it into a top investment company with three hundred thirteen employees and billions invested with them. He doubted any of the board members even knew the exact number of people who worked at Blai$e as of this morning.
He did, because HR kept him posted, at his request. They were still down a few after the fiasco last month.
A knock sounded before Trevor peeked his head inside the office and then entered. “I rescheduled your four o’clock.”
“Thank you.” See? Blaise could be polite. “What time does the matchmaker arrive?”
Trevor shifted his weight between his feet. He rubbed his lips together.
“Is there a problem?” Blaise asked.
“She’s not coming.” The words rushed out one on top of the other.
That was unexpected. Most people did as he asked. She did run a business—maybe she couldn’t clear her schedule today. “What time does she arrive tomorrow?”
Trevor opened his mouth before closing it. He flexed his hands. “She doesn't travel to meet with clients.”
Except Blaise wasn’t a typical client. “Did you mention who I am?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that money was no object?”
“Yes, sir. That didn’t matter to her.”
Not true. Everyone had a price. Blaise would have to discover hers. Henry had said she was in San Francisco.
Less than a two-hour flight.
Winning the bet was a priority, but the board was on his back. He had meetings and conference calls scheduled. A new fund was set to debut. Even if he had a trip planned to the Bay Area… “Not doable.”
Trevor raised his chin. “That’s what I told Ms. Lowell.”
The pride in his voice brought a smile to Blaise’s face. The guy might have potential. “What did she say?”
“She, um, suggested you find another matchmaker.”
Blaise’s jaw dropped. “Was she joking?”
“Afraid not.”
No one except his closest friends would dare say something like that to him. He didn’t mind big egos. He respected those who put a value on their knowledge and skills, but this woman’s response implied rigidity and told him she wasn’t the right matchmaker for the job. He would happily hire someone else and give them a bonus on top of their usual fee. “Let’s take her suggestion. Put together a list of other matchmakers.”
“Ms. Lowell’s assistant emailed me one.”
Seriously? Blaise nearly laughed. He doubted the woman would stay in business long with those kinds of tactics and such poor customer service. Not his problem. He’d wasted too much time on this already.
“Research each name.” He adjusted his tie. “I want to hire the person with the highest success rate.”
Trevor stared at the carpet. Lines appeared around his mouth.
“Something wrong?” Blaise asked.
“It’s just…” Trevor wrung his hands. “I looked up the people on her list.”
“And?”
“They’re excellent, highly rated, but…” Trevor swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ms. Lowell’s success rate is unmatched in the industry. She mentioned that to me when she explained her process—”
“I don’t care how she works. I’m only interested in results.”
“Her process is how she gets results. First comes a questionnaire. Then she conducts face-to-face meetings with potential clients. After that, there are tests and surveys. She seems quite thorough.” Trevor sounded impressed.
Blaise wasn’t. But if she was the best, he would put up with her pride, and no doubt, arrogance given her ease at turning away prospective clients. “Are you sure she understood how much I’m willing to pay for her services?”
Trevor nodded. “She told me she makes no exceptions. The only way to hire her is to fill out the paperwork and make an appointment with her in San Francisco or New York.”
Blaise scratched his chin, his fingers brushing over short whiskers. Henry Davenport wouldn’t have recommended Hadley Lowell unless he believed she was the right person for the job. The guy might not want to settle down himself, but he was a romantic at heart. At least where friends were involved. He would want Wes and Dash to marry their perfect matches and be happy. As did Blaise. That meant hiring the best person.
He glanced at the time on his computer monitor. “Get Ms. Lowell on the phone.”
Trevor stiffened. “Now?”
Blaise nodded once. “I don’t have much time until my next meeting.”
But it shouldn’t take him long to convince her to change her mind. He would find her price and pay it.
Trevor hurried out of the office.
A minute later, the office phone on Blaise’s desk buzzed. He picked it up. “Hello.”
“Good morning, Mr. Mortenson. It’s Hadley Lowell.” Her voice was strong and full of confidence. “Trevor said you wanted to talk.”
Blaise hadn’t expected her to sound so young. The only things he knew about matchmakers were from movies. They were usually older women and a little quirky. Though voices could be ageless.
“I do,” he replied. “Thanks for taking my call.”
“What do you wish to discuss, Mr. Mortenson?”
He appreciated how she didn’t mince words, but he wanted to take control. That meant slowing down the conversation even if time was money. “Please, call me Blaise.”
A beat passed. And another.
“What can I do for you, Blaise?” she asked.
It wasn’t lost on him that she hadn’t told him to call her Hadley. His position and wealth impressed people. She, however, didn’t appear to be. His respect for her inched up.
He would get right to the point as she had. “I want to hire you.”
“Thank you.” Her tone was sincere. “But I spoke with Trevor about my requirements. He said you couldn’t meet with me.”
“It’s true.” Unfortunately.
He knew nothing about the woman on the other end of the phone beyond what Henry and Trevor had said, yet she intrigued Blaise. He wanted to know what made her expect so much of her clients. Stubbornness, self-worth, something else? Saying no to an assistant was easy, but would she also tell him no? He wanted to find out.
“My schedule is full, so I don’t have time to travel right now.”
“Finding true love is never a rush job or something that happens ‘right now.’ When I say process, I mean just that.”
“I understand.” Even if he didn’t like it.
“I alternate weeks between my offices in San Francisco and New York. I meet with potential clients at both locations, if your future schedule allows for that.”
Funny—or maybe not—Hadley sounded as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to travel to her yet didn’t care. Giving him an unworkable option was something he’d pulled on people in the past.
“It doesn’t,” he admitted. “If you would please make an exception—”
“I don’t make exceptions.” The words came out staccato. “My assistant sent Trevor a list of other matchmakers. Hire one of them.”
Her directness caught him off guard. Something that didn’t happen often. “I want you.”
“Why is that?” Curiosity edged each word.
“You’re the best.”
She laughed, the sound seeping inside him in an unexpected but not entirely unwelcome way. “I am good at what I do.”
No modesty. Blaise shouldn’t be impressed, but he was.
Again.
“Which is why I can work the way I do,” she added. “The matchmakers I recommended can help you so it won’t impact your schedule.”
Hadley Lowell was closing the door. Her tone and words told him that.
Blaise wasn’t going away that easily. “I’m positive we can work out an arrangement that's beneficial for both of us. Time-wise for me and financially for you.”
Silence filled the line.
She was probably checking her calendar. Satisfaction flowed through him. He leaned back in his chair.
“Your assistant mentioned that.”
“I’m re-mentioning it. I’m a wealthy man, Ms. Lowell. I want to hire you, but I need you to come to me. To Portland.” His arrogance was showing, but he didn’t care. “Name your price.”
Blaise had thrown down the gauntlet. The amount could be anything; he didn’t care. Winning the bet was that important to him.
“As I told Trevor, I don't travel to meet potential clients.” Her voice was more forceful. Almost…hard. “I wish you the best with your search.”
“Money—”
“Won’t change my mind. That’s all I have to say on the matter, but I would like to mention something.”
This might be the opening Blaise needed. “I’m listening.”
She inhaled as if suddenly remembering she needed to breathe. “Trevor mentioned he’s only been your assistant for a short time. Please know he did what you asked of him. This is how I work with all potential clients, no matter where they are located or their net worth.”
Blaise waited for her to say she was sorry. He deserved an apology for the way she acted.
“Is there anything else you wanted?” she asked.
“How do you stay in business?” The words came out before he could stop them. But he wasn’t sorry he’d asked the question.
She laughed again, only this time the sound irritated him. “Because I’m the best at what I do. My process may appear peculiar to you, but those willing to meet me halfway get the results they desire.”
The Wife Finder Page 3
