Match Wanted

by Eva Luxe

  The patio door behind me slid open, and the sweet smell of strawberries hugged me from behind.

  “Eliza, I can smell you,” I said, grinning. I turned around to see her focusing her attention on my phone. She didn’t miss a beat.

  “Please don’t tell me that’s your work phone,” Eliza reprimanded, coming up next to me in a bikini that left nothing to my imagination. Her white two-piece helped me see all the delicious details on her body. I could even make out the outlines of her delectable nipples.

  My cock was eager to slide inside her again and twitched ever so slightly against my thigh.

  “Oh, come on. You said this was a business trip.” I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Today is an important day,” she said, stretching her arms upwards.

  “Yeah, I read the brochure lying around when I woke up. Luncheon awards, right? I bet you win everything, including matcher of the year.”

  “You put too much faith and confidence in me,” Eliza said dully, averting her eyes away from me and staring out at the beach.

  “I don’t put enough. Neither do you, Eliza…” I reached over and squeezed her shoulder, and she forced a smile. “There’s no one like you, and you should know it. Where’s all the confidence I’m used to seeing? It’s like this island has zapped all of your self-assurance.”

  Palm trees swayed on both sides of us, and the breeze picked up some momentum.

  “Being here just brings up so many issues.” She reached up and massaged her temples. “What with Louis and those women last night.”

  I cupped her face in my hands. “Breathe, my love. They’re all jealous, and when people are jealous, they do and say stupid things. Don’t let them get to you. Soon we’ll be home planning our wedding, that’ll really give them something to talk about.”

  Eliza burst into laughter. “Me? Plan our wedding? Get married. You flatter, Beckett, darling.”

  A fist of pain punched my heart at her reaction. Why wouldn’t she admit she wanted to marry me?

  She made a move to go inside. “Come, we must get ready, the limo will be here soon.”

  When I followed Eliza inside, I heard someone knocking on the door. I ran in front of her, my protective side kicking into gear, and looked through the peephole. A portly guy about a foot shorter than me, stood there with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Let me see,” Eliza said, bumping me out of the way. “Oh!”

  She opened the door, and the guy flung his arms out. “Darling! Eliza! You don’t know how good it is to have you grace my island with your presence!” the man said in a soft French accent. “I’ve been trying for years to get you to come back here.”

  “Oliver, I’m so pleased to be here,” Eliza chimed. They kissed each other’s cheeks; the way French people did when they saw each other. “I just wish others were too…”

  “I heard. I’m so sorry your rivals interrupted your dinner like that. You didn’t even get a chance to hear our orchestra. I deeply apologize,” Oliver said, frowning. “I won’t ever invite them again. That was tactless. Now onto better things. Is this the infamous match I keep hearing about?” Oliver held out his hand to shake mine. He had a grip on him, but it was an honest one.

  “Pleased to meet you, I’m—”

  “Beckett Monroe! I already know! The gossip around here spreads like wildfire with extra gas sprinkled on top. Glad you’ve found such a fine woman as a match. Eliza is a rare breed indeed. I’m Oliver Beaumont. I’d like to officially welcome you to my island.”

  “Thank you. You have a gem of a place here.”

  “Merci.”

  A small woman popped out of the black car parked in front of our house.

  “Mr. Beaumont, we must hurry to the luncheon. They need you there,” she said.

  Oliver looked back. “Okay, I’m coming Ms. Ruth!” He turned back to us. “No rest for the wicked.” He shook our hands one last time. “I’m sorry to leave you two. But I’ll be seeing you in an hour or two. We must have dinner and a good catch up, Eliza.” He bounced over to his car where he got in and sped away back towards the heart of the hotel and Island.

  “Nice guy.”

  “Smart one too. Ruthless if you’re on his bad side. But a genuinely good person. I like him, and I don’t like a lot of people in the matching world. Let’s get dressed and show these people who we are.”

  We got ready quickly. Eliza wore a beautiful red satin dress with a train, with red matte lipstick to match. I donned a black suit with black shirt and red bowtie.

  “You look good,” Eliza purred, straightening my tie.

  “Back at you.” I winked. “I can’t wait to peel that dress off later.”

  “Something to look forward to. Now,” she said, smoothing her hands over my shoulders, “let’s get this luncheon over with.”

  Our limo came by, and Eliza’s friend Trisha surprised us inside with her husband, Hiram. The two women chatted during the ride while Hiram and I talked about stocks and sports.

  “We’re here,” Trisha chimed. “I can’t wait to count the awards you’ll be walking away with, Eliza. It’s quite obvious you’ll be one of the main winners.”

  “You’re too kind, darling,” Eliza said, trying her best to lighten her own mood. We all stepped out of the limo and walked the red carpet. Cameras flashed, and reporters called out questions.

  “So, this is for the best of the best, huh?” I asked, snaking my arm around her waist possessively.

  People had their eyes glued to us as usual while we waded through tables to find ours, which was up front. That was a good sign.

  “Yes, and as much as I hate to admit it, I want the honor of winning Matcher of the Year.”

  “Have faith, Eliza.” We sat down at our table, and Eliza got busy sipping the wine already there. If she knew any of the other people sitting with us, she didn’t say anything or acknowledge anyone.

  Once everyone was seated, and the chatter had died down, Oliver made his way up to the golden stage. The orchestra behind him was busy hammering out their tunes before he lifted his hands to signal them to stop.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to attend this illustrious event. I’m honored, as always, to announce this year’s greatest matcher.”

  I looked around the room while he talked and noticed the eyes that had stared at us with curiosity when we first entered the ballroom now stared at us with daggers. I knew, and everyone else knew, who would walk away with this award.

  Eliza’s phone began ringing. She gasped and ripped it out of her small purse. The call must have been an important one because her eyes widened, and she hit answer. While she talked, I made sure to be her ears when her name was called.

  “Lucy? What’s wrong?” she asked, panic lining her face. “I know you wouldn’t call unless it was life or death.”

  Two people walked out on stage holding a golden trophy studded with diamonds on the bottom.

  Oliver looked at the trophy and then cleared his throat.

  “And now I give you,” he began. “The best matchmaker of the year.

  I looked back at Eliza, she didn’t look too good. In fact, she looked like she was about to pass out.

  “What do you mean have I seen the news?” she whispered.

  “Eliza Rousseau!” Oliver announced. The lights shone down on us, and Eliza’s face went pale.

  “Eliza?” I asked, trying to get her out of her panicked daze.

  Oliver tilted his head and waved to her. “Come, Eliza, this golden trophy is waiting for you!” His voice was jovial, but there was a hint of concern at her frozen state.

  I reached over and shook her shoulder.

  She snapped to and got up with her phone still clutched between her fingers. People clapped, but the claps turned to concerned chatter when Eliza didn’t head for the stage.

  I overheard people whispering about where she was going and wondered what was wrong with her.

&
nbsp; “Eliza, wait!” I called, jogging to keep up with her. What on earth was she thinking?

  She ran outside and nearly tripped on her dress. She caught herself before she fell, but not before putting a huge rip up the side of her train.

  “Eliza, wait a minute!” I caught her arm and spun her around. “You’re worrying me! What the hell is going on?” My heart raced at the dazed look on her face.

  “I have to leave, Beckett. Right now. Right this second.”

  “Details?”

  She closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

  I slowly let go of her arm but staying close in case she tried to bolt.

  Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Beckett… someone’s trying to ruin my business. And what’s worse is the news is all over it. Whoever it was had waited until I was out of the country so I couldn’t defend myself immediately.”

  She bit her thumbnail, and her body trembled like a leaf in the wind. Seeing Eliza scared like this… it made me nervous.

  “What else did Lucy tell you?

  “That I’m being called a pimp. That I force the girls to sell themselves.”

  She turned away from me and continued her way down the steps, I followed her, running through my head on what I could do to help.

  She stopped at one of the parked limos waiting for people to leave the luncheon.

  I wrapped my arms around her and held her in an attempt to make her calm down. “Eliza, we’ll get through this. I’ll protect you. I will always protect you—I promised. Remember?” She pushed herself away from my arms.

  “Darling. Protect yourself. Anyone close to me will end up going down in flames… I have to fix this, and I have to fix it on my own.”

  She opened the limo door and slid inside. I got in right behind her, my mind boggled by what she’d just said.

  “What do you mean? Save myself? I’m your match, and we’ll fix this together.

  Either not hearing me or choosing to ignore me, Eliza leaned her head against the window. The driver cautiously looked into the rearview mirror, seeing if it was safe for him to speak. “Where to, miss?”

  “Seaview House,” she replied.

  “Eliza—”

  She rubbed her hand over her eyes. “Beckett. I really need some silence right now… I need to think.”

  I bit my tongue. I wanted to argue this, but she was so stressed out, that I’d be only a giant ass had I tried to push her further.

  Her pain leached into my chest, and what hurt even further was that she was slowly pulling away again. All the progress we’d made over the past few days was lost.

  And so was my heart.

  ****

  We returned to our house, and Eliza packed her things up, throwing everything into suitcases without care. All the while, she was on the phone with Lucy, speaking mostly in French. Good move on her part since my French was rusty. Anxiousness ate away at me. All I could do was sit in a chair and watch her wither away under this attack.

  I wanted to beg her to allow me to help, but she acted as if I wasn’t there. As if I were invisible.

  Then it occurred to me. If she was being dragged through the dirt on the news at home… that meant whatever was happening there, was happening online too.

  I dug my phone out of my pocket and searched for her name. Post after post about Eliza Rousseau’s ‘Whorehouse’ of women popped up.

  God. Why the hell was this happening? Who would do this to her? Was it because of the award ceremony on Matcher’s Island? Because of jealousy?

  Eliza finally hung up the phone and threw her last pair of shoes into her suitcase. She flung her phone onto the bedside table and then flung herself on the bed.

  “This is terrible…” she muffled into the comforter.

  I sat on the bed beside her and rubbed her back. “You’ll get through this, and I’ll be there every step of the way to help.” I waited for Eliza to fight me on that, but she didn’t, she simply looked up and then dropped her head back onto the bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Beckett

  Eliza kept a brisk pace, skating her way right through the airport, on a mission to put distance between us. During the flight home, she barely said two words. If she’d had her way, she would have sat as far away from me as possible, but I made sure we were together.

  With my long legs, I kept up with her just fine and didn’t let up on her either. What she was trying to do was foolish.

  No matter how many people got in the way, I pushed and dodged suitcases to make sure I was still as close as possible to her. She was running away from me more than running away from her problem.

  She’d rather deal with someone attacking her reputation than acknowledge the fact I was her match. Her man. Her protection. For some reason, in her mind, I was a bigger problem than someone accusing her of running a prostitution ring.

  “Eliza, you need someone in your corner right now. Don’t seclude yourself from me!” I pleaded, dragging my suitcase haphazardly behind me. It knocked around like a pinball against other people’s suitcases as I followed Eliza’s fast pace through the terminal.

  Even through the different scents of cologne and perfume, my nose still stayed on the faint fruity scent that was Eliza.

  She threw up a hand and shook her head while she kept walking. “No, I can’t do this. You’re a nice man Beckett, but things are getting messy, and when things go south like this I can’t risk…” she faded out.

  “What? Risk what?” My suitcase snagged onto someone else’s, but my mind was so pinned on Eliza, that I just ripped it and kept walking. The person who I snagged was squabbling behind me, but I didn’t give a fuck.

  “I just can’t let things get worse than they already are. You’ve done so much good for yourself, and you’ve treated me like a queen. You deserve someone far superior to me. I’m not worth your time. Besides, I have to fix things, and I don’t have the luxury of time to give you anything more than what I’ve already given. You must understand that. You must.”

  “I don’t have to understand anything,” I gritted back.

  We made our way out of arrivals to the sidewalk. Planes glided above us, and honking cars passed us while they looked for their passengers. Eliza waved her hand, and a black limo came over.

  “Eliza, wait.” I grabbed her wrist, but gently so. I didn’t want to come across as aggressive. The last thing she needed was to feel threatened by me. “Don’t walk away from me. I—”

  “There’s no point in arguing about it right now. Someone has it out for me, and I need to make sure I put all this trash to rest. I can’t have you in the way.” She carefully pushed my hand off her wrist and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. I bit my lip and felt my arms tense. Did she really think I could just let her go? Just let her walk away from me?

  “Are you afraid that someone would harm me?” I took her by the shoulders. “Let them come at me. As long as it’s me before you.”

  Eliza slipped away and walked toward the back of the limo. The driver hopped out and took her luggage. Eliza stood firm with her back turned to me.

  “There’s a limo coming for you as well. But this one I shall take alone.” She crossed her arm and jutted out her chin. Strong and stubborn. That wasn’t always a good combination.

  “Eliza,” I stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at me, “I love you. I will not stand back and watch as people attack you. Remember when you told me it took you about ten years to code your match system? That’s blood sweat and tears, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone trample over that.”

  “Beckett ... I know you want to help. But for now, I must be alone. Au revoir, my dear.”

  The driver opened the door for her, and she sashayed over to get in.

  I followed. “Eliza, this is a mistake. Please let me—”

  “Excuse me, sir,” the driver said, making sure I didn’t slip in behind her. He shut the door and got into the driver’s seat.

  I tried pulling the passenger door open, but it wa
s locked.

  My limo soon rolled up, and a driver got out to open the door. I stared at the empty seats inside and walked away. No, I wouldn’t settle for this. Eliza was mine, and I refused to let her fend for herself.

  Eliza’s rivals had it out for her and seeing her happy with a real man infuriated them.

  This was going to stop, and those rivals of hers, and anyone else involved in this press coverage trash would go down in flames. I would make sure of it.

  The city passed me by in a blur as I made my way to my office. I consulted for a wealthy law conglomerate which owned many tech companies. The head honcho was a billionaire I’d met in rehab. We got each other through the dark times. In short, I helped save his empire and technically his life. I helped him get clean and sober.

  In return, he helped me network and find lucrative work. I wasn’t super rich, but the way he and his friends had paid me boosted me to multi-millionaire status.

  I strode into the office, my secretary, Stasia, said something, but I was far too occupied in my mind to hear what it was.

  I vanished into my office where I closed my doors. Something I never did. People knew me as friendly, approachable, and my doors were never shut.

  Leaning back in my chair, the leather squeaked under my weight. My mind wasn’t in work mode, and not quite on vacation mode either. It was on save Eliza mode.

  I picked up the remote sitting on my desk and pressed the numbers to take me to the local news channel.

  “Today on News about Town, we’re investigating claims that Eliza Rousseau’s Match de Amour was a front for prostitution and illegal drugs. Claims were made that women were forced to perform sexual favors for rich men who paid them lofty amounts of money. Sometimes millions.”

  “Bullshit,” I gritted out. “Who the hell was spreading this crap?” I balled my fists and turned off the TV.

  I didn’t want to see this anymore. It was tiring, especially since I couldn’t get my hands on the one responsible. But when I did, they’d better pray and pray hard.