The Right Swipe

by Alisha Rai

  Damn it, no. She ought to be able to win this company on her own merits, and not out of sympathy. “I’m happy to answer any questions about my past,” she said simply.

  William grunted. “I think we’re at the end of our time here. Do you have any more questions, Annabelle?”

  Annabelle thought for a moment. “Tell me, Rhiannon, why do you want Matchmaker?”

  A million corporate-speak answers rose to Rhiannon’s tongue, but she went with her gut again. “I want my company to be the best in the business. I want to be so big, no one can ever threaten my livelihood again.”

  Annabelle dipped her head. “You don’t like failure.”

  “Does anyone?”

  Annabelle smiled. “I suppose not.”

  “I’ve tasted failure. I like success more.” Rhi shifted. “I have worked hard to get where I am, Annabelle. I will not purchase your company and fail.”

  “And the employees?” William interjected. “You pride yourself on a high percentage of women employees. What will you do with all our men?”

  Castrate and murder them. She almost rolled her eyes at that stupid question and bit back her snarky reply. “We pride ourselves on hiring the best. If your people are the best, they’ll be retained. I’ve outlined our full plan for employees in the proposal, as well as timelines for any layoffs we might have to make. I’m not in the business of destroying lives. My people will tell you, I am a good employer.”

  “You’re quite the self-made woman, Rhiannon,” Annabelle said. “And I do like your emphasis on ethics and fairness. Unusual to see in a company in this day and age. Tell me, if you could do anything other than what you do right now, what would it be?”

  Rhiannon blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I wouldn’t do anything else,” she said, honestly. “If I couldn’t do this, I’d be lost.”

  “Interesting.” Annabelle pursed her lips, and Rhiannon wasn’t sure if she’d passed that odd test or not. The dismissal was apparent, though.

  Rhiannon rose to her feet and dipped her head to both of them. “Thank you for your time.”

  She was almost out the door when William called her name. She glanced over her shoulder.

  William cocked his head. “I understand you’re in a personal relationship with Annabelle’s close family friend. Please understand Mr. Lima has no say in our decision-making process.”

  Rhiannon’s face went hot, then cold as she stared at William’s smug face. He looked like a well-groomed cat that had eaten a particularly delicious treat.

  Annabelle slowly faced her CEO. “Uncalled for, William. Putting current business aside, Rhiannon and Crush are friends of ours, or we wouldn’t have partnered with them recently. Also, please understand that you have no say in my decision either.”

  Ugh, if only she wasn’t so mortified so she could properly appreciate Annabelle’s burn.

  Annabelle smiled at her, and there was a hint of steel in it. “Apologies, Rhiannon. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon. Please gather in the rose garden at five. I’ll be announcing any definite no’s then.”

  Rhiannon’s face was cold, matching her emotions. It had been a long time since someone had accused her of essentially fucking her way to the top.

  She exited the room and stood there for a second, attempting to process. She could go out to the deck or the beach and find Samson. He’d told her where he’d be when he’d left her with a kiss this morning. That was what her gut wanted her to do.

  No. Not right now. Given the thinly veiled accusation William had spouted, she had to keep some distance. No need to add fuel to the fire. She wouldn’t, couldn’t be accused of sleeping with the man to get ahead.

  This house was too big and expensive, she decided as she went upstairs. Easy to feel that too-familiar loneliness, like she didn’t belong, in here. If only she could go back to Samson’s cozy beach house with its old-fashioned floral patterned sofa.

  Text him.

  No. She’d hole up in her room. At the very least, she could comfort herself with how annoyed Peter must be to have to sit around all day waiting for Annabelle’s decision.

  When she was in her room, the churning loneliness still hanging over her like a dark cloud, she pulled out her phone and typed I love you.

  Then she copy-pasted it to her mother, brother, and Katrina.

  Before she could put her phone in her pocket, her phone chimed three times:

  I love you too, but didn’t we just talk about how you’d call me more? It’s been almost a week, Rhiannon. I could be dead. In fact, maybe I am. My ghost will haunt your phone, daughter.

  Hey Sis, love you. Anything up? I’m sorry if Mom’s bugging you about the engagement party, I’ll tell her to cool it.

  I love you most! How’s the weekend going? Call me whenever.

  Rhiannon swallowed the lump in her throat and tugged the sleeves of her hoodie down.

  The people I loved, I chose wisely. When I did reach out, they were right there.

  Her sweatshirt hugged her, and Samson would hug her better, but to be honest . . . she tucked her phone away. These texts had accomplished kind of the same feeling.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  SAMSON FOUND Annabelle in her office. “You wanted to see me, Aunt Belle?”

  Annabelle half turned from the window. The dying sun lit up her red hair. “I did.”

  Samson took a seat as she paced the floor. He folded his hands in his lap, though his mind was screaming in impatience.

  It was twenty to five. In no time at all, Annabelle would decidedly eliminate one or more of the contenders for her business in her beloved rose garden.

  According to the staff, Rhi had asked not to be disturbed all afternoon, so he’d refrained from knocking on her door or texting her. He had seen Peter, for exactly one minute, in the hallway, before the other man had caught sight of him and scurried away. It had taken every ounce of self-control in Samson not to chase him and smash the rat’s teeth in.

  He wanted Rhi to win, but he was aware he might be too biased at this point to function as a proper adviser. One thing was certain, though, Peter couldn’t buy his aunt’s life’s work. The man didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve winning anything, but especially not at Rhiannon’s expense.

  The only issue now was how to make sure Peter got cut without breaking his promise to Rhi.

  “Chris is out of the running,” Aunt Belle blurted out.

  “Oh?” Odd. The older man had seemed legit.

  “He said he only came to see me again.” A light flush colored her cheeks. “We may have had a slight fling once upon a time.”

  Samson coughed. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Before I met Joe. Our match percentages weren’t that high, so I ended things.” His aunt’s brow was furrowed deep. “But his test from yesterday shows a higher match. Perhaps we’ve both changed.”

  Or the test wasn’t that big of an indicator of relationship success, though he wouldn’t tell Aunt Belle that. “Are you going out with him?”

  “I don’t know. It would be a date. Or I suppose that’s what dinner at a nice Italian place is? That’s what he proposed.”

  “Which place?”

  “Oh, I don’t know Rome that well.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s a date. How do you feel about it?”

  “He’s very handsome. And his accent is rather sexy, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Oh dear.” She twisted her fingers together. “I don’t know much about dating anymore. I haven’t . . . not since Joe.”

  He softened. “I didn’t know much about dating these days either. I think it’s more work to really be able to communicate above all the other noise out there, but otherwise, I don’t think it ever really changes.”

  “Joe’s only been gone a few months.” Annabelle poked her finger into a hole of her knit shawl. “Dating someone before his diagnosis is even confirmed? No. People will say it’s too soon.”

 
“Since when do you care what people say?” He took a deep breath, and this time the words came easy, possibly because he’d already broken the seal with Rhi. “I didn’t want to mess you up this weekend, but the doctor called and confirmed the CTE yesterday.”

  Her lip quivered, but she bit it. “Well.” She straightened her shawl. “That’s amazing. Good. He’d be so happy. We talked about this.”

  “You did?” His uncle had only briefly informed him about the donation plans he’d made.

  “You didn’t? Of course you didn’t. He probably thought it would bring up too many painful memories about your father.” She drifted to where he sat and touched his shoulder. “Joe had the most generous heart hidden under all that bluster. The second he got sick, he said to me, Belle, if the tests come back positive, you make the biggest stink the world has ever seen. Don’t let them sweep it under the rug like they tried to do with Aleki.” Her eyes grew misty. “He didn’t want anyone else to go through what his brother and nephew did.”

  He had to blink hard a couple times. You made your industry better for the young men who came after you, and the older men who came before you. He didn’t know if Rhi’s words applied to him, but he wanted them to apply to his uncle. “I guess we’ll have to make a stink.”

  She squeezed his shoulder, as if she sensed his lingering apprehension. “I’ll have Tina work on our joint statement. You will not be alone in this.”

  “Right.”

  “This is good. Closure.”

  “Closure,” Samson repeated. He shifted, and his shoulders did feel lighter, like he’d shed a weight. “Back to your question, I’d be concerned if Chris was flirting with you to get to the company, but if he’s no longer in the running, and you want to, you should go out with him. If Rome is too far, we have Italian restaurants here.”

  Annabelle mulled that over. “Yes, I was concerned he might have ulterior motives so I told him if I did date him, he would have to withdraw his offer for the business.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  His aunt blushed. “He said he didn’t come here for that anyway. I dismissed William during Chris’s presentation time slot and we simply chatted.”

  Samson smiled. “Joe would have wanted you to be happy, more than anything.”

  “I think so too.” Annabelle sat down at her desk, adjusting her shawl. She folded her hands on the table. “Back to business. That leaves Rhiannon and Peter.”

  No, not Peter.

  Samson waited. No need for him to say anything if Annabelle had already decided against Peter.

  “I like Rhiannon,” she finally said. “For some bizarre reason, William has the most terrible impression of her. He’s a good executive, but not a good judge of character when it comes to women. He’s been married and divorced four times, you know, and I warned him each time that he wasn’t suited to any of those lovely ladies.”

  “I like her too.”

  “I know you do.” She paused. “You have a close relationship, don’t you?”

  He remained silent and she smiled. “No need to answer. I know you do. Would you like me to tell you your match percentages?”

  “Nope.”

  “Very well.” Annabelle played with her pen. “On paper, Peter is the better choice. He’s offered more money than Rhiannon.”

  “Counter Rhiannon.”

  Annabelle steepled her hands in front of her face. “Why would I counter Rhiannon when I could just take Peter’s money?”

  “Because you don’t want to do business with that man.” He braced himself, ready to launch into an argument that didn’t betray Rhiannon, but to his surprise, his aunt nodded.

  “I agree. Something about how Rhiannon parted from Swype left a bad taste in my mouth. I dug harder and found some rumblings about Peter from a couple of women. One of those women got back to me today. Her story was . . .” She shook her head, distaste written across her face. “I directed her to a lawyer. I’m unimpressed with Peter.”

  Samson tugged at his earlobe. Did Rhiannon know there were others Peter had treated poorly? Based on what she’d said, he didn’t think so. “What did you say to the woman? What were her allegations?”

  Annabelle waved him away. “That’s private.”

  “Okay.”

  “If there’s anything you want to add, though . . .”

  Samson bit the inside of his cheek. As much as he wanted to spill out Rhi’s story, he couldn’t do that without talking to her first. “I believe them. Whoever you talked to. Whatever they alleged. I believe them. Listen to them.”

  “You don’t even know what they said. Or if anyone corroborated their account.”

  He thought of Rhi’s face last night. Of Peter’s barely leashed aggression.

  Of what might have happened if she hadn’t sent him that text. When a person felt free to cross one boundary, they often felt comfortable crossing multiple boundaries. “I don’t need to know what they said. I believe them.”

  Aunt Belle studied him for a long moment and pursed her lips. “Well. I suppose my decision is fairly easy then.”

  THE ROSE GARDEN was on the west side of the house, the garden Rhiannon had seen from the library. Rhiannon imagined Annabelle had been peeved not to do this bit of theater when the roses were in full bloom, though they were still pretty lovely, the sweet fragrance teasing her nose the second she stepped outside.

  Peter stood in the clearing. Rhiannon didn’t turn around and leave, or trip over her own feet, or back down.

  She squared her shoulders and walked into the rose garden, hands down and relaxed at her sides. Now that she was clear-headed following a restful night of sleep, she understood it didn’t matter if she fidgeted or stuffed her hands in her pockets, Peter wouldn’t see it as a weakness. Peter had never been able to pick up on the nonverbal cues of when she was discomfited. Or the verbal cues, for that matter.

  Samson could tell after a couple weeks. He also held her properly. Peter had never cuddled her like that.

  Think about Samson later. Business now.

  “Peter.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her cool tone. As usual, he was buttoned up and down in a suit, though he’d left his tie off, probably as a nod to the weekend and casual atmosphere. “Rhiannon. How did you sleep last night?”

  This fucker. “Like a log, thank you.” She beamed at him, the better to irritate him.

  He picked a piece of lint off his sleeve. “And Samson? I saw him briefly today, in gym shorts no less. What exactly is that meathead’s job when he’s not filming dumb ads?”

  “Talk a little louder. I’m sure Annabelle would love to hear you calling her close family friend a meathead.”

  Peter bared his teeth. “Ready to lose?”

  “Nope.” Her smile was thin, and she hoped she looked every bit as confident as she didn’t feel. “Won’t happen.”

  “I guess we’ll see.” He checked his watch, his annoyed frown lifting her spirits a little. For all that she rolled her eyes at this drama, it was satisfying Peter hated it more.

  “I’m here!” Annabelle swept into the garden. The older woman had changed out of her casual clothes. She wore a glittery pink evening gown that clung to her curvy figure. Her hair was caught in a sparkly headband, and her earrings were flamingos.

  Annabelle beamed at them and motioned them closer so they stood in a triangle. “Update: Chris has opted to withdraw from bidding on Matchmaker.”

  “And then there were two,” Peter murmured, and he gave Rhiannon a smug smile.

  How strange. Chris wasn’t the type to drop out of any race. Rhiannon wondered what had happened. She couldn’t tell if Peter had known about Chris, but he clearly didn’t think it affected his chances either way.

  Annabelle took a deep breath and Rhiannon prepared herself to wait. If the older woman stood true to form, she was going to drag this out until kingdom come. Were there cameras? Was she going to pin roses on their lapels?

  Annabelle looked Peter dead in the eye.
“Peter. I’ve opted to decline your offer.” She switched her gaze to Rhiannon before either of them could react. “Rhiannon, come to my office.” And with that, she swept out the way she’d come.

  It took a second for Rhi’s feet to move. Holy shit. Had she . . . won? Was that what had happened?

  “What just happened?” Peter wheezed.

  So she wasn’t the only one in shock. “I think . . .” Rhiannon said slowly. “I think you got rejected.” An unholy glee took over her shock. “I know you don’t handle that well, but hopefully you can refrain from melting down like you did when I rejected you.”

  Rhi started walking away, to follow Annabelle, but Peter blocked her path. She cocked an eyebrow. “Move. I have a deal to close.”

  An angry red flush suffused Peter’s face. How had she ever thought this man was attractive? Or good for her?

  Because you didn’t know better.

  When you were in a stew of toxicity, sometimes you reached for the least bitter piece of meat. She wasn’t going to beat herself up for how good he’d been at tricking her.

  “If you think this somehow makes you better than me, you’re mistaken,” Peter hissed.

  It was probably unwise to taunt a man who looked as angry as Peter did, but . . . eh. Fuck it. “I don’t think I’m better than you,” Rhiannon explained. “I know I’m better than you. And pretty soon the whole world will know it, too, won’t they?” She dropped her gaze to Peter’s fists. “Do you want to hit me?” Exhilaration made her brave, or maybe reckless. She took a step closer to him, on the path she’d follow to speak with Annabelle and claim her crown. “Go on. How will you explain a black eye? That I was asking for it?”

  Slowly, he unclenched his fingers.

  Tough talk aside, the knot of apprehension in her chest eased. She nodded. “Now move.”

  They waited in a tense standoff for a few seconds, but Peter finally budged. She could feel his gaze on her back, drilling a hole, but with each step she took, pride and accomplishment took the place of her fear and nervousness.