The Right Swipe

by Alisha Rai

  “You can do the last session with Rhiannon later, and we can make some room in your schedule for another date. I don’t want you to miss this woman. So pretty and such a high percentage match, dear.”

  Samson could tell she wasn’t going to budge on this. What did it hurt, to go film a fake date with another woman? Rhi wouldn’t care.

  You wished she cared.

  He grimaced. “Sure. Did you watch the videos with Rhi?”

  “I did. And I know you and the company didn’t need my blessing, but Tina and I talked about the change in the campaign, and I was on board.” There was a defensive lilt to those words.

  William must have really made her feel guilty for going off the grid for a while. “Teaming up with Crush wasn’t so much a change as it was a detour. The campaign that you came up with will go on after.” He emphasized the fact that she had come up with the idea to put him on the site. Aunt Belle wasn’t a bad businesswoman. She was just different.

  Aunt Belle’s voice warmed. “I like the idea of working with our competitor for mutual gain. The world has become far too cutthroat. Not to mention, that Rhiannon girl is lovely.”

  “Rhi’s great.” He thought about what Rhi had confessed about her fear. “Have you heard anything about her?”

  “Oh, no. Tina says she’s a good person, and that’s all I need to know.”

  Phew. “You know, she’s actually the reason I left you a message. She wants to meet you.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  “She wants to talk to you about buying Matchmaker.” When the silence stretched, he rushed to fill it. “Of course, it’s talk. It doesn’t mean you have to sell.”

  Her voice was very small. “William said he has at least three buyers interested in the business as well. He recommended I consider selling if I wasn’t interested in running the company like it deserves.”

  Fresh annoyance struck Samson. “Well, William has no say in that. It’s your company.”

  “He’s not wrong, though. I understand Jennifer was far more hands-on than I ever could be. No doubt William misses her. Of course the sharks have been circling since she passed.”

  Samson hated hearing his aunt so sad. “You’ve had a hard year, losing Jennifer and then Joe. You don’t have to decide this right away.”

  “Oh, trust me, my instinct would be to procrastinate on this forever. But people’s jobs are on the line, if the company continues to do poorly. An ad campaign is nice, and William says we’ve seen a boost in sign-ups and traffic since we started this—especially since you released those videos with Rhiannon—but that’s a temporary fix. Jennifer wouldn’t have dillydallied if she’d ever considered selling. She would have ripped the Band-Aid off immediately. Or at least, met with the buyers to see what they might offer. I could talk to them.”

  “I don’t think that would hurt. You don’t have to commit to anything.”

  “I don’t, do I?” She paused. “Are you free next weekend?”

  “Yes. You want to meet them that soon?”

  “Like I said, Jennifer didn’t dillydally.”

  “You don’t have to be Jennifer, Aunt Belle.”

  “I want to do right by the employees. I’d like you there if I meet with a potential buyer. You do have some stake in this, after all.”

  A very small stake. Against Uncle Joe’s wishes, Aunt Belle had transferred her partner 5 percent of the company. Samson had inherited that when his uncle died.

  Should he disclose his and Rhi’s personal relationship? Only he didn’t know what way that might sway Annabelle, and he didn’t want Rhi to not get a fair shake. He’d simply recuse himself from advising her on Rhi’s offer. “Okay.”

  “I have to think about how I’ll do this, what I feel most comfortable with. You know I don’t much like conventional meetings and lunches and so on with people.”

  “I know.” Before his dad had gotten sick, it hadn’t been uncommon for Aunt Belle to ring their doorbell at midnight for an impromptu tea, or come and stay for a couple of weeks because she was craving domestic life.

  Like business, Annabelle socialized according to her mood. Or horoscope. He had no idea how she’d handle meeting with potential buyers. “Tell me what you need from me. I’ll be there, wherever there is.”

  “Don’t say anything to Rhiannon for now. I have to consider what I’m doing.”

  He didn’t love that. If Rhi really had come over last night just to make sure he spoke with Annabelle, this was clearly a big deal for her.

  He wondered why she hadn’t gone to William now, actually, if the other buyers had felt free to do so. Had she felt that the CEO would have heard shit talk about her? “I won’t say anything, but it’s already Friday, so if you want to do something next weekend . . .”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll speak with Tina right now. Goodbye, dear, and don’t forget that we’ll have to schedule a date for you during the week too.”

  He hung up and grabbed his now cold coffee. It tasted like ashes in his mouth, and he knew that wasn’t because it was cold.

  He didn’t want to go on another date with another woman from Matchmaker. He wanted to see Rhi. In bed, in her car, on a rooftop. She was his Green Eggs and Ham, he’d take her anywhere.

  He really did need to get up and shower now, but instead, he killed some time scrolling through the news headlines. Finally, his fingers tapped their way over to what he really wanted to do and opened his messages with Rhi.

  He wouldn’t tell her Annabelle was going to meet with her. But he could calm some of her anxiety. Also, he’d slept with her yesterday, and temporary or casual or whatever, he didn’t feel comfortable not texting her today.

  Spoke with Annabelle, and she’s thinking about it. No promises or guarantees yet. Don’t worry, she’s only heard good things about you.

  He stared at that. There. That was practical and businesslike and he didn’t have to say anything more. Nothing that would betray Annabelle. Nothing that was too personal, nothing about the mind-blowing sex they’d had, nothing about how his sheets still smelled like her, and nothing about how he’d pressed his pillow against his nose last night to capture the scent of her body.

  That would all be too much.

  He hit send and put the phone down. Then he snatched it back up when it dinged immediately.

  Thank you.

  He swept his thumb over the words. Also stilted and formal. Colleagues. Not lovers.

  He scowled. Scratched his belly. Finally, he typed, unable to help himself.

  Yesterday was amazing. Let me know when you want to meet up again.

  There. She could take that however she wanted. Meet up could mean sex, or it could mean their final, contractually obligated videotaped thing.

  Business or pleasure. Her choice.

  Of course, when his phone remained silent—at least when it came to texts from her—for the rest of the weekend, he realized he’d played himself.

  Because she could easily choose neither.

  Chapter Seventeen

  RHIANNON STAYED in L.A. for the weekend rather than traveling back up to Katrina’s home. Partially because she wanted to bury herself in work and partially because she was still feeling low-key ashamed for her meltdown in front of her best friend, though she knew Katrina would never judge her.

  She didn’t want to dissect her feelings about Matchmaker or Samson or Peter. She wanted to work.

  An impossible task. She tried hiding her phone so she wouldn’t check every two minutes for updates from Samson. When she did cave and grab it, she found herself staring at Samson’s last text to her like an infatuated teenager.

  Yesterday was amazing. Let me know when you want to meet up again.

  What the fuck did that mean? Meet for what? Did the fact that he’d used a period convey something extra serious? Serious as in business serious or serious as in personal serious? Why was there no flirty emoji? Had he texted the mysterious Janet? Had he used a period and a flirty emoji in his text to her?

>   Gah.

  Monday morning brought with it a host of issues to deal with, and given that they were on the West Coast, Rhiannon started her day playing catch-up with New York. There was a reason Peter had moved Swype to Manhattan and it wasn’t only because, as Katrina had hypothesized, his soul was too dark for the California sunlight.

  So, yeah, she had a ton of shit to do, and she ought to be obsessing over whether Peter was slithering in to take over Matchmaker while she waited around for Annabelle. But here she was analyzing Samson’s lack of flirty emojis to death.

  A knock came on her office door and she dropped the phone on her desk in a clatter. Hopefully, she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. “Yes?”

  Lakshmi stuck her head in. “Um, can you come out here for a second? Something was delivered for you.”

  Rhiannon didn’t like that odd, suppressed glee in her friend’s voice. She warily got to her feet. “Is it April Fool’s?”

  “No. Come out here.”

  Rhiannon followed Lakshmi out of her office. The problem with open layout was that everyone could see everything. About twenty or so of her employees were gathered around, with the others craning their necks from their desks.

  The attraction was a giant cake sitting in the middle of the floor. Actually, giant was probably an understatement. At least five feet tall, six layers, it was made of Styrofoam, decorated in purple and pink and white, with fat flowers on top.

  The small, youngish blonde standing next to it was familiar, but as unexpected as the cake. She stepped forward. “Ms. Hunter.”

  Rhiannon slowly accepted her hand. “Tina, right?”

  “Yes.” Her smile was rueful. “I am so sorry for this disruption. I told Annabelle you wouldn’t love it, but I couldn’t talk her out of the idea. I figured I would come with, to minimize any trauma.”

  “I’m fine with some disruptions but . . . wait, did you say trauma?” Rhiannon looked around but her employees were no help. Though at least half of them had their phones out and up. “What is this?”

  Tina bit her lower lip. “It’s an invitation.”

  Rhiannon took a step closer to the cake. She leaned forward to read what was on top. “An invitation to—”

  She staggered back when the cake exploded. “Surprise,” shouted the well-built man in tight leather pants who now stood in place of the cake. He tossed something in Rhiannon’s direction, and she recoiled at the puff of glitter.

  “What the fuck?” she yelped.

  The man cleared his throat and unfurled a piece of paper. “Hear ye, hear ye. Rhiannon Hunter, you have been invited to the home of Annabelle Kostas to take part in a corporate extravaganza. You have a week to prepare your presentation and pitch for you know what. Please me, and perhaps you shall be pleased. Signed, Annabelle Kostas.” The man rolled up the paper and presented it, with a smaller cake, an edible replica of the giant fake cake. “You can eat this one,” he said with a wink.

  When no one moved, Lakshmi accepted the offerings. “Um, thank you.”

  “God, I’m so sorry.” Tina wrung her hands.

  “I’m not eating a cake that was closed up with a sweaty man for God knows how long,” Rhi heard someone murmur as the guy clambered out of his cake and started wheeling it away.

  “Fuck, it’s cake. I’ll eat it,” another employee said.

  Lakshmi looked around. “Lin, would you like to take this, um, man cake to the break room. And everyone get back to work.”

  There was good-natured grumbling as the crowd dispersed, one of the employees snagging the cake from Lakshmi. Rhi turned slowly to Tina and enunciated each word. “I have glitter in my hair.”

  Tina grimaced. “Uh, yes. Would you like me to . . .”

  “Help me remove the herpes of crafts from my hair?” Rhiannon nodded. Glitter tumbled to the carpet.

  Lakshmi handed her the note and brushed at Rhiannon’s curls. “At least it’s your favorite color,” she remarked.

  True. Unfortunately, she wore a black sweatshirt today, which meant the pink glitter was showing up really well. “I don’t like any color glitter.”

  “Again, I am so sorry,” Tina said. She timidly dusted at Rhiannon’s shoulder. “Annabelle is . . . eccentric.”

  Rhiannon glanced around to make sure no one was listening. She trusted all her employees, but no need to get anyone’s hopes up if nothing would come of this. “What that stripper was saying . . .”

  “Not a stripper,” Tina said hastily. “I nixed that idea.”

  “What is Kostas’s deal?” Lakshmi wondered out loud. “Is she nuts?”

  Tina drew herself up to her full height, and haughty arrogance replaced her contrition. “My employer is not nuts. She’s a woman who has a whimsical, fun sense of humor. She’s not stuffy.”

  Lakshmi straightened, too, and glowered down at the smaller woman. “You know, there’s a pretty broad spectrum between stuffy and a stuffed cake.”

  Tina’s nose twitched, as if she agreed with Lakshmi, but her stubborn chin didn’t waver. Which was good. Rhiannon respected that, and she bet Lakshmi did too. Lakshmi might argue with her in private, but she’d defend her until the death to a third party.

  Rhiannon cleared her throat to bring them back on track. “This party next weekend. The pitch and presentation. Is that for what I think it’s for?”

  “It’s an introductory meeting, yes.” Tina nodded at the piece of paper Rhiannon held. “Those are the details. Dinner on Friday evening, pitches on Saturday. It’ll take place at Annabelle’s beach house in Cayucos. Driving is probably the best way of getting there.”

  “I’m familiar with the place,” Rhiannon murmured, because she couldn’t admit she’d stalked the shit out of Annabelle already.

  “Great.”

  “Will there be multiple interested parties?”

  Tina nodded. “Four at the moment.”

  Fuck. She could guess for sure who at least one of those four were. “Can you tell me their names?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Rhiannon backed off. No need to badger Annabelle’s assistant. “Were they all sent glitter-grams, though?”

  Amusement danced in the blonde’s eyes, and Rhiannon wondered if she hadn’t taken some enjoyment in this unconventional invitation, despite her profuse apologies. “No. They were sent couriers with invitations. The glitter-gram, as you call it, is a token of Annabelle’s affection for the recent partnership our companies have enjoyed.”

  Rhiannon nodded. More glitter rained down. “Lucky me.”

  Tina’s tone turned businesslike. “Can I relay your acceptance for the weekend?”

  “Yes. Of course. I’ll be there Friday evening.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Tina turned to leave and Lakshmi launched into motion. “Let me see you out. We’ve talked on the phone, but I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

  Tina nodded, but didn’t look entirely ready to forgive Lakshmi for her jab at her employer. “I know who you are. The Lakshmi with no last name.”

  “Correct.” Lakshmi smoothed her loose tie. She wore a slim fit pinstriped three piece suit today. “À la Beyoncé.”

  Rhiannon left her assistant to handle Tina and escaped to her office. She closed the blinds, placed her hands over her mouth to muffle the noise, and squealed.

  Yessssss.

  She grabbed up her phone, no longer capable of thinking about things like periods and a lack of emojis. Samson’s low, husky voice came on the line, and Rhiannon’s brain went a little soft. “Rhi. Hi. I’m so glad you called.”

  “I am covered in pink glitter,” Rhi blurted out.

  There was a beat of silence. “I am not.”

  She suppressed her laugh.

  His voice deepened. “Is this slang for something? Does glitter mean something other than glitter?”

  “No, actual glitter. Your aunt. Your aunt is the reason I’m covered in pink glitter.”

  A longer pause. “Uh.”

 
Rhi quickly brought him up to speed.

  “Ahhh,” Samson drawled. “Aunt Belle does love sending ridiculous invitations. It was singing telegrams for her sixtieth birthday, I believe. To my locker room.”

  “I bet your teammates got a kick out of that.”

  “You have no idea. I’m glad Tina was there to clarify, at least.”

  “Did you have an idea she was planning this?”

  “She asked if I was free next weekend, but other than that, no. If I’d known what she was planning, I might have given you a heads-up. Or at least talked her down from the glitter.”

  Samson would be there. She suppressed the thrill of excitement. Business. This was business. “Do you know who the other guests will be?” Even if Tina couldn’t tell her, maybe Samson would.

  Manipulative.

  Yeah, this was veering into conflict-of-interest territory. Samson’s first loyalty was to his aunt and the company he had a stake in, and she didn’t want to force him to inadvertently betray the woman. She almost retracted her question, but he spoke first.

  “I don’t, I’m sorry. She said there were three others who were interested in buying the company, but I don’t know the details.”

  The others, one of whom may be Peter. She opened her mouth, and the toxic bitter words were there in the back of her throat. Words like evil and harassment. But she bit them back.

  The best revenge is success. Even if Peter was there, she’d kick his ass. She didn’t need Samson’s assistance.

  She picked at some glitter on her hoodie. “Cool. Anyway, I’m busy, so I’ll go. Gotta work on my pitch. I wanted to thank you for talking to Annabelle.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She shivered, hating how beautifully he said that word. Pleasure. She wondered if he’d invite her over again, for more sex. She didn’t have any time between now and Friday, but she wanted him to invite her anyway.

  “I’ll see you next weekend then. I don’t think I’m going to get a glitter-gram with my invite. I guess that’s a good thing.”

  She grinned. “It’s a very good thing.”

  “Put together a great pitch, Rhi.”