The Greek Billionaire's Marriage Matchmaker

by Holly Rayner

  The words flowed from her mouth like water, as they did every day, but not a single one of them was true. The only algorithm that existed at Melinda Forde was Zoey making a best-guess selection. She asked Stelios her standard questions, noting down his responses, but the more he talked, the guiltier she felt.

  He’s in the wrong place, she tried to tell herself. A grown man—a billionaire—should know better than to trust a dating service to help him find love. It’s like getting financial advice from psychic friends: if you’re dumb enough to fall for it, you can’t blame people for taking advantage of you.

  No matter what she told herself, however, she couldn’t help feeling horrible about what she was about to do. A sudden thought filled her with disgust: a year ago, she wouldn’t even have considered causing someone misery for the money. Now here she was, trying to justify it.

  “I can’t do it,” she mumbled bitterly. “Not this time.”

  “Did you say something, Ms. Forde?” Stelios inquired gently.

  “Yes, I did, Mr. Zakiridis. I need to be completely honest with you, even if it really isn’t good for business. I truly hate to disappoint you, but all of the women we currently have registered are more interested in wealth than anything else, and it’s my professional opinion that dating them for any length of time would make you perfectly miserable.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Stelios replied, unable to quite believe his ears.

  “I’m afraid not,” Zoey replied sullenly.

  “Well, I appreciate you being honest with me,” he said, getting to his feet with a somewhat bemused expression on his face.

  Zoey let him out of her office, and in a moment or two, he had left the building altogether.

  Triumph blared through her heart for a few seconds; for the first time in more than a year, she had gone against her mother, and spared someone weeks—months, even—of bitterness and disappointment. But it all came crashing down the moment her mother opened her office door.

  “Zoey, what in God’s name have you done?” Melinda asked, struggling to keep her voice under control. “You simply needed to match him with any one of the women on our rolls. That’s literally all you had to do, Zoey. It isn’t complicated, which is why I want to know why the receptionist saw him leaving here so quickly.”

  “Well, Mother,” returned Zoey, “there was no one on those rolls he could have had any sort of relationship with. Those women would only use him for his money. They wouldn’t care about anything else.”

  “I’m using him for his damn money!” Melinda returned hotly. “We aren’t running a charity here. When someone comes through those doors, they need to leave with a date. That’s your job, Zoey!”

  “I thought my job was ‘Relationship Services Expert’,” she said sarcastically, “helping people to find actual love. And yet so far, no one I’ve matched has lasted longer than a year!”

  “Darling, actual love is for fairy tales, songs on the radio, and nitwits with small brains and huge bank accounts. You’re not nine years old anymore, so don’t give me that talk about true love. You’ve just let millions of dollars’ worth of business, advertising and influence walk right out of my door! Why did you do that? Because of some stupid fantasy?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be as cynical as you!”

  Zoey didn’t know where the words had come from, or why she had shouted them with such ferocity, but Melinda moved toward her so quickly, the woman might as well have been gliding. She lowered her voice and glared at her daughter with cold anger in her eyes.

  “Let me tell you something. This ‘cynical’ woman is the only reason you have anything right now. Every scrap of food that passes down that disrespectful little throat of yours is there because I allow it to be, and unless you want me to throw your lazy ass out on the street, you’re going to wrap up this sentimental nonsense and do your job!”

  Zoey thought she could hear people gathering outside the door, but her mother didn’t seem the least bit worried about who could hear what she was saying.

  “Not another word, girl. I’m your mother, and I’m not asking, I’m telling you what you’re going to do. You’re going to call Zakiridis back, and you’re going to tell him you’ve found a woman good enough for him to marry. If you haven’t done that by noon today, you’ll be gone. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal!” Zoey growled through clenched teeth.

  Without another word, Melinda stormed out, leaving her daughter seething in her wake.

  Zoey’s insides were writhing with hatred, and the worst of it was, as much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right. If she was fired, she only had enough saved to last her a few weeks. After that, if she couldn’t find work, things would get difficult for her extremely quickly. Every cell in her body was against calling Stelios back, but in lieu of a surprise lottery win, she simply had no better options.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” she said, picking up the office phone. Checking her records, she found the Greek’s number and dialed, swearing liberally as she did so.

  “Good morning, Mr. Zakiridis,” she said when he answered. “This is Zoey calling from Melinda Forde Singles. Sir, after our meeting this morning I went through our records with a fine-tooth comb because I simply hate to have to disappoint our clients. I discovered that I was wrong earlier, and that I do in fact have a woman that matches your profile. Her name is Brie Hudson. She was formerly a backing singer for the rhythm and blues group Nu Vogue, and now she’s an up-and-coming reality star. Brie exudes each of the qualities you listed,” Zoey lied. “I think you’ll make an excellent match.”

  “Well, okay, that’s an unexpected development, and she sounds very interesting,” Stelios replied. “I look forward to meeting her. My car has internet access. Let’s set up the details, and then I can pay you online.”

  “That will work perfectly, Mr. Zakiridis.” Zoey said, struggling with all her might to keep her voice light. She kept reminding herself that she had no choice; that it was either this or unemployment.

  After hanging up with Stelios, Zoey tried to drown out her guilty thoughts by wrapping herself up in her other cases. It barely worked, and ten minutes later, her mother returned to her office, wearing a huge false smile that made Zoey feel sick to her stomach.

  “That’s my good little girl,” Melinda said in saccharine tones. “Now, honestly, Zoey, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I have a great deal more money than I had this morning, and thanks to my forgiving nature, you still have a job. You should really be thanking me for keeping a cool head and looking after the both of us all this time.”

  “Were you like this when Dad…” Zoey began, fighting down her emotions.

  “You leave your father out of this!” Melinda returned harshly, looking as if she had been stung with a whip. She headed back out of Zoey’s office, giving her daughter a dirty look as she did so.

  Zoey sighed in defeat before returning to her computer and the rest of her workload for that morning, trying not to think that all of that fuss had been over one client and that she had several more left to match before lunch.

  THREE

  Five hours and nine clients later, Zoey boarded a subway train and headed for home. She took it as a good sign that this time round she had room to sit, without having her body shoved against anything. She needed every good sign she could get.

  Zoey sighed deeply as she told herself that the day was finally over, and she was going to put every thought of it out of her mind. There was a date in three hours that needed her undivided attention, after all. It was going to be her first one in months, and she was determined to enjoy it.

  Halfway back, Zoey spotted an adorable little girl in a pink and white dress. She couldn’t have been a day over five. Her bushy brown hair flew in all directions as she ran around her mother’s legs. Every so often, she’d grab at a pole to steady herself, or else teeter into her mother’s arms. She was peppering her mom with questions at auctioneer speeds, and the over
load of cuteness swelled in Zoey’s heart. Almost before she knew it, a smile was playing on her lips, and all her problems seemed to recede to the edges of her mind.

  “CDs, DVDs, Blu-rays. Two for twenty,” a voice suddenly called out, and Zoey could only laugh at how spectacularly its owner had ruined the moment.

  The trip back felt shorter than the one she had made that morning, and in not too long Zoey was back in Brooklyn, at the door to her apartment building, a five-story, brick affair. Zoey took the elevator straight up to the fourth floor and made a beeline for her apartment.

  Inside, she went to her bedroom and began peeling off her clothes. Her room featured a wall unit on the wall opposite the door. It had a small wardrobe on each side, and a chest of drawers in the middle. A thirty-two-inch television sat on top of the drawers, and a mirror was fixed to the wall above that. To the right of the door, as Zoey came in, sat a small nightstand, and a queen-sized bed stood directly beside that.

  Wearing nothing but her underwear, Zoey went to the bathroom and filled the tub with bath soap, beads, and soothing hot water. When she liked the temperature, she shed her underthings and dove in, shutting her eyes and allowing herself to relax.

  For the first time that day, she felt completely at peace as the beads invigorated her body, and the water drew the tension out of it. Her disgust with her mother and hatred of her job seemed to evaporate, leaving only blissful silence. The water enveloped her like a blanket, and the longer she lay in it, the longer she wanted to stay. But Blake was meeting her at Big Tony’s in a little under two hours’ time, and she could barely remember the last time she had been on a date. That fact barely bothered her now, but Zoey knew that would change when she was out of the water.

  At last, she grabbed a nearby loofah and began washing in earnest. Soon, she added the spray of the shower so that she could give her hair a thorough washing. In minutes, she emerged from her bathroom feeling refreshed, but whatever spell the bath had put her under was broken, and her stomach was working itself into knots.

  Zoey was convinced she would say or do something awkward, or worse, draw a blank in the middle of a conversation. For some time now, her job at Melinda Forde had been almost her only extended daily contact with people. There, she merely had to rely on a script built on lies, but she was going to have to wing it soon and she didn’t know if she was ready.

  “At least I clean up okay,” Zoey said, staring in her mirror. In her stunning sapphire dress that accented her figure and matched her eyes, she felt fairly confident that Blake was going to be blown away by her, and felt a spreading sense of hope as she called herself a cab.

  FOUR

  Fortunately for Zoey, Big Tony’s was situated in a part of Manhattan that was much closer to her apartment than the dating agency. Traffic was light by New York standards, and it wasn’t difficult for her to get there at all. Her only problem on the ride over was that the cab driver was seemingly addicted to the sound of his own voice.

  The diner was a small building with a simple welcome mat and glass doors that bore steel handles. Inside, there were around two dozen elegantly-decorated round tables that appealed to Zoey immediately. A soft jazz instrumental wafted through the intimately-lighted space, and pictures of famous New Yorkers hung on the walls. It was one of those places that sold the atmosphere it provided nearly as much as the items on its menu.

  Zoey allowed herself to be led to the table Blake had reserved, and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea while she waited for him to arrive. She was still jittery, but her mood had greatly improved.

  Ten minutes later, she was nibbling on a roll, mostly out of simply needing something to do. She texted Blake, only to get an automatic reply. Zoey didn’t like the look of that in the slightest, but she told herself to stay positive. After all, it had only been ten minutes; people were late all the time, and busy people set their smartphones to automatic reply—she had done it herself just a few days ago. But two more drinks and twenty minutes later, things began to get embarrassing.

  “Miss, are you ready to order now, or are you still waiting for the rest of your party?”

  Her waitress had asked the question with all the politeness in the world, but it was clear from her tone what she thought had happened.

  Zoey was unwilling to accept that yet. Not after everything else that had gone wrong that day.

  “He texted to say he was running a bit late,” she lied. “Got a flat on the way over here. They’ve said it may take a bit of time to fix, so he suggested I order an appetizer in the meantime.”

  With that, Zoey put in an order for Asian dumplings and prayed she would have someone to share them with by the time they arrived. She did not, but mercifully her waitress tactfully avoided the issue.

  Zoey found she could barely taste the ginger-flavored pot stickers before her. She wanted to cry. Not in the composed, quiet, way an adult cries, but with the wild abandon of a child throwing a full blown temper tantrum. She wanted to kick her legs and scream “it’s not fair” at the top of her lungs. She wanted someone to wipe her eyes and tell her everything would be all right. But she knew her mother was right about one thing: she wasn’t nine anymore. Adults didn’t get to throw tantrums.

  Zoey was perfectly aware that there was no point in doing so, but she waited another fifteen minutes anyway, just to give him the benefit of the doubt. By that point, she had been at Big Tony’s for a full hour and texted Blake three more times.

  She finally settled her bill, feeling dejected and unloved, and took the subway back home, no longer caring what an army of jostling people might do to her dress.

  “Some relationship expert I turned out to be,” she muttered dejectedly. “I try to help people find love all day, but I can’t even find a good match for myself.”

  By the time she reached her apartment, Zoey felt as if a storm cloud was hanging over her. She fell into bed and reflected that, aside from the sympathetic waitress, at least there were no witnesses to her humiliation, and that it was still possible, if unlikely, that Blake had an excellent excuse for not showing up.

  FIVE

  The next morning, however, Zoey woke up to a very long text from Blake, explaining where he had been the previous night. As it turned out, about two hours before the date, he had discovered the Facebook page of a woman he used to know, named Elmyra. In high school, Blake had allegedly carried a torch for the girl, but he’d never had the courage to tell her so. He had messaged her, and the two had talked for several hours. It had been long past midnight when the conversation ended, and only then had he remembered his rendezvous with Zoey. He apologized for standing her up, but even more, he was sorry to report he and Elmyra had decided to go out on a date.

  Zoey’s face crumpled as she read the message. She had been forgotten. Just plain forgotten, and dumped via text message. She couldn’t decide whether to cry or break everything within reach, so she settled for swearing furiously every few moments. She called the agency and told her mother she was sick because she didn’t think she could face looking at another human being.

  Zoey remained at home all that day and the next one, seething at being so horribly cast away. Her phone lay on the floor in several pieces—she had thrown it against the wall when Blake texted to ask if she could recommend a good hookah bar for him and Elmyra to meet at.

  By the morning of the third day, Zoey felt reasonably sure she could get back to work without breaking down at her desk, so she got ready and hopped on the subway.

  She would have been stuck standing the entire way to Manhattan, except the five-year-old kid from a few days ago was there again, and she talked her into taking her seat. Half a dozen people praised the girl for doing what any of them easily could have, and he took the accolades in her stride, giving most of the credit to her mother for teaching her manners.

  Zoey thought about what her mother was teaching her: cynicism, deception, apathy and greed. She had to admit that Melinda had been a much more loving person a long time ago, befo
re her relationship with Zoey’s father had started to go south. But Zoey didn’t want to spend her commute thinking about relationships—she would have enough of that to do when she got to work.

  She picked up her smartphone and went to her favorite news site. Almost immediately, she saw something among the top stories that made her sigh.

  “Spotted at the city’s exclusive Three Rivers restaurant: real estate magnate Stelios Zakiridis and reality television star Brie Hudson. Speculation is that the pair are dating, though neither could be reached for comment.”

  The article was accompanied by several paparazzi photographs of Stelios and Brie in the vicinity of the restaurant. Zoey couldn’t help noting that her client wasn’t smiling in any of them.

  “Melinda Forde strikes again,” she muttered. “Well, at the very least this will get my mother off my back for a while. She might even be in a good mood for once.”

  And yet, Zoey felt a nameless sort of worry, like another boot was about to drop. She tried to ignore it, instead focusing on the old guy a few seats down. He was singing and old soul ballad in an effort to try and woo a woman half his age. She was listening politely, but it was obvious it wasn’t working. Nearby, two teenagers were filming the whole thing for YouTube. Zoey briefly toyed with the idea of belting out the old Carmen Sandiego theme, but in the end she decided she had enough problems already without a train full of people looking at her awkwardly.