CHAPTER SEVEN: Matchmaker! Matchmaker!!
1630 Words
I must be going crazy, Tina thought as she stared at herself in the mirror, tugging at the thigh-high slit of her gown, trying to make it look a little more decent. She was never one to preen in front of a mirror, yet here she was, double—no, triple—checking her makeup.
She never wore heavy makeup; she felt it made her look like a clown—make that a black clown, she giggled to herself.
Her hair was curled into the shape of a rose, held in place with a butterfly pin, giving her the look of a butterfly in a rose garden. The lilac gown clung to her like a second skin, strapless with a sweetheart neckline that made her neck look regal. A teardrop diamond choker graced her collarbone, and on her feet she wore multicolored sandals with ankle buckles and tiny charms that tinkled as she walked.
Turning to check for panty lines—none—she noted the way the gown, snug at the bust, flowed to her ankles, the slit teasing with flashes of her long, toned leg.
For a moment she considered changing into a different dress, but dismissed the thought. She’d promised Tate they would match, and she kept her word. Besides, the petty part of her couldn’t wait to see her colleagues’ faces when they realized she and Tate complemented each other perfectly. That would keep the office rumor mill busy for weeks.
Tina was adding a final coat of light pink gloss when the doorbell rang. She gave the mirror one last glance, grabbed her shawl and purse, and hurried to answer.
“Tate, just in time,” she cooed, striking a playful pose.
“Wow. Just… wow,” Tate whispered, taking her in. “Wow, T, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said shyly, as his eyes lingered on her. “Hey, Tate—you look dashing, like a groom. We match.” She tugged gently at his lilac bow tie. “Are those flowers for me?”
“Yeah, sorry—yes, the flowers are mine. I mean, yours.” He blushed.
“Oh, Tate, you shouldn’t have.” She lifted the bouquet to her face and inhaled carefully, mindful of her makeup. “Let me put these in a vase and we’ll go.”
“You look really beautiful, Tina. Just… wow.”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” She gave a mock curtsy, fluttering her fingers like a fan.
“Goofball,” he teased. “I’ll be the envy of all the men—you look like a dream.”
“Stop, you flatterer,” she said, swatting his arm.
When they arrived at their boss’s house, the driveway glittered with exotic cars.
“Uh-uh, we should’ve taken your Lambo,” Tate said, parking. “My three-year-old Camry looks pitiful next to these.”
“Very funny. You know I don’t drive that,it’s my brother’s. And there’s nothing wrong with your car.”
“Says the girl with the latest Jaguar.”
“That was a birthday gift. I’d drive a beat-up truck if it got me where I wanted to go. I think they’re overcompensating for something,” she murmured as they walked toward the mansion.
The place was a masterpiece, a mix of ancient Greek and modern architecture, lit from garden to rooftop with thousands of fairy lights. Classical columns and arches blended with sleek lines and glass panels. It was breathtaking, intensifying and expensive.
She drew a deep breath as they approached doors so wide a Mack truck could pass through. Inside, a chandelier caught her attention—a stunning blend of Greek motifs and modern design, with crystal droplets and gold accents scattering warm light across the room.
She didn’t notice everyone turning to stare at her and Tate , her thoughts were occupied by the elegance of the chandelier,until Tate leaned in.
“I told you you’re a showstopper, didn’t I?” he smirked, pulling her closer. you are a vision, and I am truly the envy of all men.
“Stop it,” she whispered. “You’re making me self-conscious.”
“You? Never. You’re the most confident person I know.”
“Hmm, if you say so.” She scanned the crowd. “Are all these people our colleagues? I don’t recognize anyone.”
“Not really.” He handed her a champagne flute.
“You know I don’t drink, Tate.”
“Come on, T. Just one. I can’t drink alone—I’ll look like a lush.”
“Tate…” She sighed. “I have zero tolerance for alcohol. I just want to sit on one of those couches and see if they’re as soft as they look.”
“Please? One glass, we’ll nurse it till we leave. And then we can test the couches—together.”
She reluctantly took the glass, sipping. “You owe me a dance. Salsa, not waltz—it’s boring.”
“I’ll do salsa, rumba, and tango after we find Janet. AJ’s in town—I know you’re dying to see them.”
“But of course.” She gave a regal wave.
As they mingled, elsewhere in the room…
“I’m in love,” Sam said dramatically, clutching his chest.
“Who?” Julian asked, irritated. He’d only come to make an appearance, but part of him hoped the elevator girl might be here. The thought of her with another man gnawed at him.
“Wow, she’s beautiful. Do you know her?”
“Who are you talking about? All I see is a burst of colors.”
“That goddess talking with your dad.”
Julian’s head snapped up—he knew before he saw her. She stood out in every way. Her dress, elegant and modest compared to the others, fit her perfectly, the color glowing against her skin. His gut twisted when the man beside her pulled her close, kissed her hair, and made her smile.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Really? You took a step before I stopped you.”
“She’s the one. The elevator lady.”
“Damn. No wonder you’re hooked.”
“Stop drooling over her.”
“Can you blame me? She’s hot. But… she’s taken.”
“I don’t see a ring. And something tells me they’re not what they seem.”
“Uh-huh. Matching outfits, constant touching… sure.”
“Maybe he’s gay. Who wears a lilac tie?”
“Says the man in a pink tie.”
Julian ignored him and crossed the room.
“There you are, son,” his father said. “I was just about to look for you.”
Julian barely registered the words—she was even more beautiful up close. Her eyes—black, bottomless—sent a shiver down his spine.
She smiled slightly. The man with her—Tate—pulled her closer. Julian growled under his breath.
“Son,” his father prompted.
“Hi,” Julian managed.
“Let me introduce you—Tina Peters and Tate Winslow. Tina’s the brains behind our moisturizing cream line.”
“Hi,” he repeated, cursing himself.
“Hi,” she said with a sly smile, offering her hand.
When their hands met, a current shot through both of them.
“Tina Peters. Pleasure to meet you,” Julian purred. “Though I must say, you’re not what I envisioned.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“I pictured someone older… with thick glasses. Didn’t expect to meet such beauty.”
“I like to keep people guessing. And I do wear glasses.”
“I bet they look cute on you.”
Tate cleared his throat.
“Oh—this is Tate, my date,” Tina said quickly.
Julian nodded, already plotting how to steal her away before the night was over.
Mr. Andrews excused himself, taking Tate with him. Tate whispered something that made Tina giggle, kissed her head, and smirked at Julian before leaving.
Julian’s jealousy spiked.
“You’re staring,” Tina said softly.
“Can you blame me? You’re exquisite.”
“Thank you. But it’s rude to stare.”
“Then maybe I should follow your advice—take a picture. It lasts longer, right?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, s**t—that was you. The bulldozer.”
“Hey, you can’t blame me. It was too early.”
“So why were you in the office?”
“Business with Dad. I’m shocked you didn’t recognize me.”
“Well, like you said—it was early, and you were in a hoodie.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Anyway… fate.”
“How is that fate?”
“We were meant to meet. And my imagination didn’t do you justice.”
“Of course we were. I work for your dad. We were bound to meet—though I could’ve done without the bulldozing.”
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope.” She winked, and Julian’s self-control wavered.
“You’re a very beautiful woman.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Are you and the guy you came with serious? Not that it matters—I want you, and I intend to have you.”
“And I don’t get a say?”
“Stop biting your lips. Only I get to do that… and you’re feeding me very impolite images for where we are.”
“That’s… forward.”
“I don’t play games, Tina. If I want something, I go after it. And I want you.”
- Writer
