Mummy, I want him: The Matchmaker’s Price

Lily.

The sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor signaled a presence long before the door opened. I didn't glance up from my laptop immediately; years of running Hearts Entwined had taught me not to flinch at unexpected interruptions.

My assistant, Claire, usually kept walk-ins at bay. But when the door to my office swung open without so much as a knock, I knew this wasn't a walk-in.

"Ms. Laurent?" a deep, smooth voice called.

I looked up and froze. The man standing in my doorway was... intense. Broad shoulders filled out a tailored charcoal suit, his dark hair slicked back, and his eyes... damn, a sharp, calculating grey, locked onto me like a predator sizing up its prey.

There was a coldness in his expression that sent a shiver down my spine. Claire wouldn't have lasted one bit.

"Yes?" I said. "Can I help you?"

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his movements deliberate and calculated. His hand dipped into his jacket, and for a split second, I thought about calling security.

Like they could get here before he splattered my brain parts to the wall.

But he pulled out an envelope, not a weapon, and placed it on my desk with a muted thud. What was happening here?

"My employer requires your services," He said with a calm tone, which left no room for arguments.

I raised an eyebrow. "Your employer?"

"Adrian Voss."

The name hit me like a lightning strike. Anyone who was anyone knew Adrian Voss. The billionaire and rumored mafia kingpin. He was a ghost, a myth, a shadow whispered about in circles far removed from mine. No one knew what he looked like... at least, no one who lived to tell the tale.

His name was synonymous with power, wealth, and an empire built on whispers and fear.

"I'm sorry, I think there's been a mistake," I said, sliding the envelope back toward him. "Hearts Entwined doesn't usually work with... well, we have a specific clientele."

The man didn't flinch. "We are well aware of your clientele, Miss Laurent. That's precisely why Mr. Voss has chosen you. Your agency has a reputation for being discreet and, more importantly, for its accuracy. He needs a wife, and you're going to find her."

I blinked at him.

This had to be some sort of elaborate joke. Adrian Voss didn't need me. A man like that could snap his fingers and have the most beautiful, powerful women in the world lining up for a chance to stand by his side.

"With all due respect." I folded my hands in front of me and stared back at him. "I'm not sure why someone like Mr. Voss would require my services. Surely, he has other ways to find a suitable partner."

The man–whose name I still didn't know–gave me a thin, humorless smile. "Mr Voss isn't interested in a parade of women vying for his attention. He's a businessman, and like any good businessman, he values efficiency. Your agency delivers results, and that's what he wants to pay for."

I couldn't suppress the frown on my face as I glanced at the envelope. "And if I refuse?"

He leaned forward slightly, placing both hands on the edge of my desk. His presence was suffocating.

"Refusal isn't advised, Miss Laurent. But if you feel truly compelled to decline, Mr. Voss will respect your decision..." Bullshit. "... he'll simply take his business elsewhere."

The weight of his words hung in the air. Take his business elsewhere? That should've been a relief. After all, I didn't want to get involved with someone like Adrian Voss.

The risks were astronomical.

But then my mind wandered–unbidden–to Rachel. My five-year-old daughter with her wild curls and boundless energy. Just last night, she'd been asking if we could finally move to a house with a backyard.

And maybe get a dog.

This deal could make that possible.

I picked up the envelope hesitantly, the heavy paper practically screaming money. "What's inside?"

"Everything you need."

With a deep breath, I opened the envelope. Inside were details about Adrian's requirements for a wife—her age, education, personality traits, and even physical preferences. The meticulousness of it all made my stomach churn.

"Mr. Voss is very specific," I said, looking up at him.

"Of course."

"And you think I can find someone to match... this?" I waved the paper slightly.

"I don't think, Miss Laurent. I know. Your reputation speaks for itself."

I set the paper down and crossed my arms. "Why does he want a wife now?"

The man tilted his head, as though deciding how much to tell me. "Let's just say it's a matter of business. An alliance. Nothing more."

I didn't believe him for a second. This wasn't just business. It couldn't be. But pressing him wouldn't get me anywhere.

I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming against the armrest. "This is high risk. Too high risk. If anyone finds out that I'm working for Adrian Voss..."

"They won't," he interrupted. "Mr. Voss values discretion above all else. Your name will never be connected to his."

The promise sounded hollow. People always found out. And when they did, it was the innocent who suffered.

"Miss Laurent," he continued, his voice softening just enough to be unsettling, "this is a challenge for your agency. An opportunity to elevate it to heights you've never even dreamed of. Surely, you can see that."

I could.

And that was the problem. The money, the prestige, the influence... it was all right there, dangling in front of me like a carrot on a string.

But the risks were just as real.

"I'll need time to think about it," I said finally, standing to signal the end of the meeting.

The man straightened, his expression unreadable. "Take all the time you need, Ms. Laurent. But not too long. Mr. Voss is a patient man, but even his patience has limits."

He turned and walked to the door, pausing just before stepping out. "And one more thing," he added, glancing over his shoulder. "If you do decide to decline, make sure it's for the right reasons. Regret is a heavy burden to bear."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the envelope and my spiraling thoughts.

I stared at the papers on my desk, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. The logical choice was clear: decline the offer, keep my distance, and continue running my agency as I always had.

But logic had a way of crumbling when faced with a little girl's smile and dreams of a backyard.

Still, I knew what I had to do. I reached for my phone and dialed Claire.

"Claire," I said when she answered, "draft a polite but firm refusal. Let Mr. Voss know that Hearts Entwined won't be taking on his request."

As I hung up, I felt a strange mix of relief and regret. The money would've changed everything, but some risks simply weren't worth it.

Or at least, that's what I told myself.

Lily.

The first inkling that something was wrong came when I noticed the black SUV across the street from my office. Which I brushed off. My agency catered to the elite; expensive cars were as common as overpriced coffee in this part of town.

But when I saw it a second time, parked at the corner when I went out for lunch, unease prickled at the back of my neck.

It stayed with me all day, even as I left the office and made my way home. By the time I walked through my front door, the sense of being watched had wormed its way under my skin.

“Mama! Look at my new drawing!”

Rachel's high-pitched voice was like a salve to my nerves. She came bounding down the hall, clutching a piece of paper covered in colorful crayon scribbles.

“What is it, baby?” I asked, crouching down to meet her.

“It's us!” she said proudly, holding it up. “You're the princess, and I'm the queen!”

Well, if that isn't a new way to look at monarchy.

I smiled despite myself, running a hand over her messy curls. “It's beautiful, sweetheart. Let's put it on the fridge, okay?”

“Okay!” she chirped, running toward the kitchen.

I followed her, shaking off the lingering unease. Whatever it was—stress, paranoia, or just an overactive imagination—I refused to let it interfere with the few precious hours I got with Rachel every evening.

Later that night, once Rachel was tucked into bed, I sat down with my laptop, a cup of tea in one hand and exhaustion weighing heavy on my shoulders.

As the founder and sole matchmaker of Hearts Entwined, my to-do list never seemed to end.

I scrolled through my emails, skimming past inquiries and thank-you notes from satisfied clients, until one subject line stopped me cold:

"Second Offer – Hearts Entwined Services."

I clicked it with trembling fingers.

Miss Laurent, Mr. Voss is willing to increase the payment to five million dollars in exchange for your continued discretion and assistance in finding his match.

This is a rare opportunity to elevate your agency to unprecedented heights. A response is expected within 24 hours.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Five million dollars.

The number on the screen seemed unreal, as though adding a zero or two to the original offer had somehow changed the entire weight of the situation.

I closed the laptop and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. This wasn't just an offer; it was a message. Declining the first time had been risky, but refusing a second time might as well be a declaration of war.

Still, what other choice did I have?

Accepting meant more than just facilitating a business transaction. It meant stepping into Adrian Voss’s world—a world of power, danger, and ruthless control. I'd done my research. I knew who he was, and I had no illusions about the kind of man I'd be dealing with.

And yet...

I glanced toward Lily's room, where her soft snores filtered through the closed door. Five million dollars would mean a better life for her. A bigger home, the best schools, security for years to come.

But at what cost?

No amount of money was worth risking Lily's safety—or my own. With renewed resolve, I reopened my laptop and typed a simple reply.

"I'm not interested. Please do not contact me again."

I hesitated for a moment before hitting send, my finger hovering over the trackpad. Once I clicked, there would be no going back.

I hit send.

***

The next day passed in a haze of paranoia. Every time I glanced out the window, I half-expected to see that black SUV again. When the mailman arrived, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

But the day came and went without incident. By the time I got home, I'd almost convinced myself that I was overreacting.

“Mama, Claire's coming over later, right?” Rachel asked as she colored on the living room floor.

“She said she'd stop by after work,” I replied, settling onto the couch.

Claire wasn't only my assistant at work, she was my best friend and Rachel's self-proclaimed favorite person on days when we weren't in the office. Having her over always made the evenings feel a little less lonely.

I prepared the popcorn they would snack on during their little sleepover, and juice for Rachel. Claire and I could have wine when Rachel dozes off.

This was the sleepover I had been waiting for a long time now, so when the knock came later that night, I assumed it was Claire.

“Claire!” Lily shouted, scrambling to her feet.

“Wait, Lily...”

She was too fast, her little feet padding across the floor before I could stop her.

I rose quickly, a chill creeping up my spine as I heard the door creak open. By the time I reached the living room, it was too late. Rachel had opened the door already.

“Hi, mister!” Lily's voice was bright and cheerful.

“Hello,” a man's deep voice replied, smooth and deliberate.

I froze.

That wasn't Claire.

Rushing to the door, I found Lily standing there, her head tilted up at a stranger.

Except he couldn't be a stranger.

Even before he spoke, I knew who he was. The expensive suit, the piercing eyes, the air of absolute authority... he could only be one man.

"Hello, little angel. How are you?" He asked my unsuspecting child who continued to beam at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world.

"I'm fine. Who are you?"

He let out a chuckle at how direct she was. "Didn't your mom ever tell you about me?" He asked, his lips curling into a faint, calculated smile. He stepped inside as if he owned the place, his piercing gaze locking onto mine.

"I'm Adrian Voss."