by Laura Burton
“Welcome ladies. Thank you so much for coming. You all look wonderful. My name is Emily Stewart, founder of Find My Companion.”
Holly turned and laid eyes on the most dazzling woman she had ever seen. She was petite, with a figure to die for. Long, sleek, black hair reached her waist and she wore a beige Gucci dress. Emily Stewart had a reputation in the city. She was a British sweetheart, and had set up shop in New York as the most talented matchmaker in the East Coast. Not only that, but she was also well-connected and had impeccable taste.
“Right. We have cameras all set up and they will start rolling as soon as we enter the reception room. So, talk amongst yourselves, smile, and act natural. Remember, we already have your dates, so your job is to have a few drinks and just look like you’re having a great time.”
Emily beamed at the crowd. “Any questions?” she asked. No one made a sound. Holly noticed that half the models were shooting daggers at Emily, while the other half were gazing at her like they had just stumbled on a rare unicorn.
“Come on then. Follow me.”
The models crowded Holly, pushing her forward as they erupted into millions of conversations. Meanwhile, Holly walked along like an island floating in the sea.
The reception room was actually a big hall with lots of small tables and comfortable chairs scattered around. A bar stretched along the entire room and shelves of bottles adorned the walls.
Holly perched on the edge of a bar stool and one of the bartenders handed her a drink.
“Thank you,” she said, picking up the stem glass. If Emily knew about her record, she would have banned Holly from being anywhere near glass. Holly smirked at the thought as she took a sip.
“We have our three bachelors here, and this room full of gorgeous, single ladies. Now we’ll let our singletons mingle and see which one of these beauties catch our bachelors’ attention.” Emily posed in front of a camera crew and delivered her lines perfectly. She stood less than six feet away from Holly. She was so close Holly could smell Chanel No.5.
Three men entered the room and strolled through the groups of women, like a pride of lions observing their prey.
One of the men had burly arms; his biceps were bursting out of the seams of his jacket. The second man had a scruffy beard and a mane of wiry brown hair, which he had pulled back into a bun on the back of his head. Despite his smart shirt and suit pants, he looked completely out of place in the setting.
Holly leaned back to catch a glimpse of bachelor number three. She choked on her drink and almost fell off her stool when she saw that it was William.
Holly lunged forward and grasped a menu from the bar, propping it up to obscure her face as the bachelors walked by. The cameras followed their every move and Holly didn’t dare take a breath. She peeked over the top of the menu and watched William engage in a friendly conversation with one of the women across the room.
Good. He didn’t see me.
Then Holly inwardly laughed at herself. Here she was dolled up; fake lashes and hair flowing free. There was no way William would recognize her.
Seeing him talking to other women sent her stomach into knots, though. She slinked off the stool, smoothed out her dress and edged away, heading for the exit.
“Where are you going?” murmured one of the camera crew. She was a small woman. Holly was head and shoulders taller. And all that was standing in the way of her freedom was this camerawoman. She figured if she needed to, she could take her down.
“I have to go to the restroom,” Holly whispered, pretending to be desperate. She hopped from foot to foot, and the camerawoman rolled her eyes.
“It’s down the hall to the left,” she whispered, stepping aside. Holly could have punched the air and given the woman a hug. Her faith in humanity was restored.
“Thank you,” she mouthed and hurried out of the room.
Holly’s brisk walk slowed as she returned to the entrance hall, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerve.
“Holly. What are you doing? Get in there.”
Thatcher rushed to her side and grabbed her arm.
“Oh! I didn’t see you,” Holly said, eyeing the massive camera in Thatcher’s hands. “I was feeling sick, so I came out for some fresh air.” It wasn’t a total lie. Seeing William again did make her feel nauseated. And she couldn’t figure out why. Thatcher’s frown faded and he glanced over his shoulder.
“I’ve got to go and take some pictures, see you in there?” He clapped Holly’s shoulder and she gave him a nod.
Leaving the hall was not the best idea. Now Holly was stuck in the empty entrance hall with no idea what to do next. She could dash for the door and make a break for freedom, never looking back. Or she could pull up her big girl pants and go back inside.
So what if William was there? Even if he did recognize her, he was on the show looking for a match, and Emily had made it very clear that the models were off-limits.
All she had to do was fade into the background, get the job done and pick up her check at the end.
It wouldn’t look good for her if she bailed in the middle of a job. With Thatcher moving to Paris, she needed to build bridges. Not burn them.
With a deep sigh, Holly resolved that she needed to go back inside. Time to grow up and step outside of her comfort zone.
On Holly’s return, she noticed the three bachelors seated in different areas of the reception hall. Each one was surrounded by gorgeous young women. All cameras were focused on them, so Holly was able to slip into the room unnoticed.
Meanwhile, Thatcher hovered in the background, taking pictures from every angle.
As with most modelling jobs, there was a lot of standing around bored. The other models participated in chit-chat, but Holly hated small talk more than awkward silence. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried to fit in and make small talk. It was just that she was terrible at it.
During her very first shoot, she had tried to engage but it all went horribly wrong. The other girls were talking about a celebrity who had been photographed with a twig in her hair. Which reminded Holly of a funny story, about the time she went to a Halloween party with a big spider in her hair, and no one told her because they thought it was just part of her outfit. When it crawled down to her shoulder, she panicked and emptied the bowl of punch over herself. She finished the story with a hearty laugh at herself. But the other models looked at her blankly, without even a hint of a smile. Then they had turned back to each other and continued their conversation.
It was one of the reasons Holly had never made friends in the modelling world. No one talked about anything Holly was interested in.
She didn’t fit in. But her naturally skinny frame and angular face photographed well. And Holly figured Thatcher had always been able to pull some strings to get her on the same jobs he did.
The chatter in the room became more animated and Holly realized she had been staring out like a zombie for several minutes, buried in her thoughts.
Josie’s right. I’m bad at being present in a situation.
“Hey there.”
Holly stiffened and blinked at the gentleman with the man bun who was standing less than a foot away from her. His musky cologne was stifling, and it took all of Holly’s resolve not to pinch her nose.
“Uh. Hi,” she said, glancing around the room. Why was one of the bachelors talking to her?
Then Holly noticed the camera crew were taking a break.
Holly fiddled with her gold bangle and tried to ignore the angry stares from the jealous models standing nearby.
“You must be tired,” the man said, batting his thick lashes at her with a smolder.
Holly froze. Was this man at the mixer last night too? She forced a smile. Not sure what to say. The man leaned in to whisper in her ear. Humid heat radiated from his cheek and Holly inwardly recoiled.
“Because you’ve been running around in my mind ever since I got here.”
He leaned back to flash her a grin. His words sat in the pit of Holly’s stomach a
nd began to effervesce. Her hands balled into fists, and her false nails dug into her palms.
“Is that supposed to be a chat up line?” she blurted. The man roared like a predator and dragged a heavy hand across his jaw.
“You’ve got attitude too. I like it.” He grazed his knuckles along Holly’s arm, they left a burning trail behind.
“What do you say we get out of here later, and go somewhere… private?” He added a not-so-subtle wink and licked his bottom lip.
“I’ll be busy… washing my hair,” Holly said dully. The bachelor chuckled and grabbed her hand.
“I’d love to help. A princess like you deserves to be pampered.” He leaned forward, lips pouted and primed to make contact, but instead collided with Holly’s clutch.
“I’m not feeling well; I think I need to leave.” She sidled away and made for the exit. The women began twittering to each other, but Holly paid no attention.
Being hit on was a common occurrence for Holly. But it never stopped making her feel like she needed to take a hot shower afterwards. She had just made it to the door when a hand grabbed her arm. She turned and with a thwack, her clutch purse hit her attacker over the head. Only, it was not the creep she had been talking to.
“Ouch.”
Holly bit her lip.
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that,” she said defensively. The dark-haired man was bent over, rubbing the side of his head.
“My bad,” he said. When he straightened and looked at her, his clearwater-blue eyes widened with recognition.
“You!” they both said at the same time.
Holly’s insides squirmed and a flurry of excitement flew to her chest as she stared at the man who she had attacked twice in the last twenty-four hours.
William Harrington.
Chapter Six
“You shouldn’t be talking to me,” Holly said to William. The whole room was quiet, and all eyes were on them. Holly glimpsed Emily standing on the other side of the room. She was staring at Holly like she was a deer in headlights.
“I know. Next time we talk I might end up with a concussion,” William said with a laugh. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Me? I didn’t get hit over the head,” Holly said, her face flooding with color.
“Right? What do you keep in that purse? Rocks?”
They shared a laugh. Someone coughed but Holly didn’t care.
“I’m so sorry. But the good news is, you’ve still got a handsome face. No marks.” Holly touched his cheekbone as she inspected the side of his head. William’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas.
“You think I’m handsome?”
Holly’s heart fluttered as she reciprocated his grin. The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, then someone started clapping.
“And that’s a wrap. Did you get that? Wow. That was perfect.”
A tall gentleman wearing a headset and spectacles approached them with a broad grin on his face. Emily hurried over to join them.
“No, there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said, flustered. “She’s not one of the contestants.”
The gentleman scoffed.
“Who cares? The chemistry between these two is electric.”
Emily opened her mouth and closed it again. Meanwhile, Holly looked around at the sea of faces, wondering what was going on.
“William, do you want to take this young lady on a date?” the cameraman asked. William looked at Holly and bit his lip.
“If she’s willing… yes.”
“You might need a crash helmet,” muttered one of the crew. A rumble of laughter followed.
“I’ll take my chances,” William said, shooting the sniggering group a look.
“Hold on. Let me look at this,” Emily said, springing into action. She pulled out a tablet and furiously tapped on the screen. Thatcher gave Holly the thumbs up in the background.
After a few minutes of everyone waiting, hardly daring to move as Emily worked on the tablet, she looked up and shook her head.
“I’m sorry. You two score twenty-one percent and that’s definitely not a good match.”
Holly frowned but it was William who walked over to Emily and craned his neck to look at the tablet.
“What is that?” he asked. Emily cleared her throat and turned official.
“This is the matchmaking formula. We take the profiles of two people and the app analyzes whether or not they would be a good couple.”
William’s brows shot up.
“Twenty-one percent isn’t that bad,” he said, rubbing his chin. A brunette stepped forward and raised a hand.
“But William honey, we’re a ninety-four percent match,” she said in a sickly-sweet voice.
Holly started backing away.
“I should go,” she said, perspiration gathering on her upper lip. She brushed it away and swallowed against the rising nausea. “I haven’t been feeling too good anyway. Don’t worry about paying me. This was all just a big mistake.” She continued to ramble as she edged away.
No one argued with her. It was a big mistake; everyone was thinking it.
Satisfied no one was going to follow, Holly turned on her heel and made a run for it. And she continued to run. She didn’t look back.
Chapter Seven
“Holly. Come on, open the door. You’ve been in the bathroom for three hours.” Josie banged on the door. Holly groaned as she sat in the bath and slid under the bubbles.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, turning on the tap for more hot water.
After a couple of seconds of scraping, the door flung open. Josie and Thatcher walked in, like a couple of cops ready to bust a criminal.
“What are you doing in here?” Holly shrieked, covering herself with her arms.
“Are you serious? The whole bathroom is covered in bubbles. I can see more flesh on Josie than I can see on you,” Thatcher said as he sat on the toilet. Josie crossed her arms and remained standing.
“This is an intervention,” she announced.
Holly sighed and let her head go under the water, dampening the sound of Josie’s ranting. When she broke the surface again, Josie had stopped.
“Were you even listening to me?” she asked, her hands on her hips. Holly gave her an innocent smile.
“Sure,” she said slowly.
“Don’t you want to know what happened after you left?” Thatcher asked incredulously.
No. Holly didn’t have even a tiny bit of curiosity about what went down. She dreaded to think what sensational stories would be passed around the models now. If she had any hope of getting work when Thatcher moved away, it was gone now. Her career was over before it truly began.
“Emily and Martin had a massive fight in front of everyone.”
“Who’s Martin?” Holly asked.
“You know. The guy who was talking to you earlier. With the headphones.”
Holly nodded.
“Right. Carry on,” she said, resting her head on the bath pillow and closing her eyes.
“William chose you. But Emily said it was against her policy. Martin stepped in and threatened to pull the plug on the show if she didn’t set you up with William on a date.”
Holly opened her eyes with a start.
“Wow.”
Thatcher nodded, a little more enthusiastic now.
“They settled on a compromise. William will take you and the brunette on a date.”
Holly wasn’t sure whether to burst into laughter or tears.
“You don’t look happy,” Josie said blankly.
“Why would I be happy? Now I get another chance to make a fool of myself? This time with cameras following my every move. Yeah. I’m not interested in getting my heart broken on TV, thanks.” Holly crossed her arms and pouted. This conversation was over as far as she was concerned.
“And that’s why we’re having this intervention,” Thatcher said, pinching the bridge of his nose. As if the situation was
far more tiresome than he had expected. Holly couldn’t help but laugh. What did he think she would do? Leap for joy because the billionaire bachelor had picked her?
“Holly, we love you. But you’ve got to stop running away from opportunities. So we’re not going to let you run away from this one,” Josie said. “Emily is going to give you a call, and you’re going to pick up and talk to her. You’re forbidden from saying no.”
Holly frowned as she looked from Josie to Thatcher and took in their serious expressions. No. This was no joke. Before she could reply, her phone started vibrating on the floor.
“Ah. Perfect timing.”
Josie picked up the phone and handed it to Holly.
“I’m in the bath!”
The excuse didn’t work. Josie rolled her eyes and answered the call, then handed Holly the phone. Holly’s blood turned cold as she raised it to her ear.
“Hello,” she said faintly.
“Holly Barratt? This is Emily Stewart here.” Holly’s heart didn’t know what to do. It half sank but also quickened.
“Hi there.”
“Holly, against my better judgement, I am calling you to ask if you will go on a date with William Harrington.”
Holly glanced at Thatcher and Josie who stared at her as if daring her to say no. She sighed.
No more running, Holly.
“I’d love to,” she forced out.
“Great. How about Saturday?”
“Sure.”
“A car will come to collect you. Oh, just so we’re clear. Portions of your date will be recorded and may be aired on national TV. I’ll have my assistant send you some paperwork that must be signed and returned ASAP.”
Holly clamped her teeth together.
“Great,” she said.
“Right. Well, enjoy your date and I’ll speak to you again with Mr. Harrington’s feedback.”
Holly hung up the phone and looked at her friends incredulously.
“Did you hear that? I’ll be given feedback! Like it’s going to be a job interview.”
Josie and Thatcher ignored Holly and gave each other a high-five.
“I’m proud of you,” Thatcher said, rising to his feet. “Now my job is done. I’ll leave you to enjoy your bath.” He waved and marched out. Meanwhile, Josie shook her head, and her dark hair swished across her face.
