The Billionaire Matchmaking Club

“I'm a matchmaker, Aubrey,” I rolled my eyes, “not cupid.” But I wasn’t sure the message was getting through to her. Aubrey twirled her deep red hair, seeming unconvinced, sliding me another shot across the bar. I raised a brow, sighed, said nothing more and downed it quickly as I scanned the bar from the corner of my eye. The dim blue lighting wasn’t making it any easier, and the song was horribly distracting as the beat vibrated from the floor to my chest. “This could’ve been done better in the daylight.”

“Lily, please.” She sighed. “Just…size him up for me?”

“Do you not understand how we work?” I scoffed. “If I haven’t attended one social with this guy or even talked to him—”

“Take all the time you need!” she pleaded. “I just want you to get a first impression before anything else happens. I’ve heard you…you catch vibes?”

“Why do I feel like you talked to—”

“Alex Sherman?”

“Yeah, the Chad with the good weed, right?”

She nodded quickly.

“I don’t ‘catch vibes,’ Aubrey.” I threw up my fingers in quotation marks. “I notice patterns. My first word is often my final. I hope you know that.”

Taking in my surroundings of the bar again, I narrowed my eyes in on two men who had just slid into a booth across the room, and an alarm went off in my head. A hand clutched my forearm, and I knew I was looking at the right guy.

“Aubrey…” I almost groaned. “You can’t go after him.”

“Why not?” she whined, and I regretted taking her up on her special request.

“See here, this is why I ask for names.” I lightly pounded my fist against the table, giving her a stern look. “The world of billionaires can’t guarantee you anonymity. Especially not with me. Why do you think detectives approach me first when it comes to domestic violence issues?”

“Could you cut it out and just tell me?” she snapped.

“The guy’s married.” I slid the glass toward her, watching as it clinked against her own engagement ring. “In fact, I was the one who set him up in the first place!”

“With who?” she squeaked, but I shook my head. Aubrey was desperate, and I needed to make sure there was enough distance between her and her prey. Again!

Matchmaking wasn’t exactly being cupid, but I did ensure that my services gave someone value for their money. That meant keeping the couples I paired together for as long as possible. Aubrey Holland’s helpless romanticism wasn’t a secret in the industry. I wondered how many matchmakers she’d gone through before coming to me as a last resort. This was the sixth guy Aubrey had asked me to check out for her this year alone, and that wasn’t a good look for me. But while being engaged? That was a little new.

“What happened to Fernando?” I wagged my pen at her. She slid yet another shot glass toward me, but I pushed it back.

She’d definitely fucked up with him, hadn’t she?

Aubrey looked away, obviously holding back tears that were threatening to spill. With a large gulp of my rejected shot, she dabbed a tissue under her eyes, and I groaned internally, hoping I wasn’t in for another episode of her dramatics.

Why do I continue to put up with this? I sighed to myself before realizing she paid well, and consistently, too.

“I know he proposed and all but”—She sniffled lightly—“I think he might be cheating on me.”

Coughing a little, I waved the bartender over for some water. She quickly complied, and I downed it just as fast.

“Well, I did warn you.”

“But I really liked him.” Her voice was trembling.

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

She took it off and threw it on the countertop. I watched the amethyst and diamond-studded ring bounce off the marble, glint in the light, and drop onto the floor beside the bartender, who looked very sorry for Aubrey as she burst into sobs. And I wished I could feel as bad, had this not happened for the third time now.

But I wasn’t her therapist, nor was I her friend.

I was a matchmaker, and there were no matches here.

***

Kicking the door closed, I heaved myself onto the couch face-first. My heels fell off onto the carpet with a light thud, and I heard Holly’s snuffles around my feet. She must’ve been hungry, considering how long I had been out.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” I petted the collie who was giving me her largest puppy-dog eyes that prompted me onto my tired feet immediately. Holly needed food, and so did I.

“Alexa, play some music.”

The apartment was flooded in light upbeat music, but each day I walked in here it just…felt emptier than before. When I had felt this way five years ago, I’d thought it was because I’d just moved in and I needed to own the space. In an attempt to make it my own, I marked the walls with memories and topped the shelves with my identity. This was the first time I’d ever had something that was mine. It was a home, something that I’d believed was impossible to attain.

So, now that I finally had everything I wanted, why did I still feel so empty?

Holly barked at me, snapping me out of my reverie. I blinked into the open fridge, wondering how I’d gotten here. I’d lived a lot of my life on autopilot, as part of trying to survive. It wasn’t like that anymore, though, so why couldn’t I just be normal?

Sighing, I sifted through the items inside before realizing that I didn’t feel like cooking at all. I plucked my phone out of my pocket and surfed through Uber Eats, settling for Chinese takeout before going through my messages. Seeing Mom had messaged, I groaned and opened it, playing her voice note as I reached for the box of dog food.

“I know you’re busy with work right now, sweetie, but will you be free tomorrow night to drop by? I met this adorable family on the cruise you sent me on, and they’ve taken me up on my offer for dinner.”

“She’s back already?” I whined to Holly and filled her bowl, who only munched on her Kibble in response. I got up, determined to draw myself a nice bath. God knew it would be the last time this month I’d have the chance to relax for longer than an hour.

“They have a flight the next day so please don’t miss out on this. They have a son and he’s a surgeon! Very good looking, too.”

I groaned at her giggle, knowing she would’ve shoved my pictures in his face and begged for him to get to know me.

“Anyway, call me back! I haven’t heard from you in so long. Love you!”

Sure you do, I thought bitterly. Sometimes I wished I had the heart to treat her the same way she treated me before I hit the jackpot and opened my own business. It was hard work to run it, and today was only a reminder that it would get tougher.

Aubrey had taken a lot out of me. Against my better judgment like always, I’d stayed by her side and helped her work through her insecurities. As much as I tried to convince her that a break away from men would be a great idea, she wasn’t having it. I wasn’t exactly a therapist so I couldn’t pry out the reason for her dependency on men, but good lord, she had terrible luck with them. Also, terrible taste. I just wished she’d let me pick out someone for her instead of insisting on my help for setting her up with whomever she liked on a whim.

Did I know Fernando was a cheater? Yes. And I did religiously remind her of his past. It was just hard to leave Aubrey alone in this, because deep down, I empathized with her a lot. As ditzy and airheaded as she was, she was one of the few people that searched for genuine love and connection. I had to admire her energy to keep at it after all the heartbreak she’d been through. Bless her heart.

Eight years in this industry revealed that four out of five men had cheated on their partners, no matter what stage of the relationship it was in. When men had money, the sex would come rolling in. When they felt the time was right or the girl was worth it, they’d settle. There was no point in pushing such people into a commitment before then. Although many married men weren’t any better at keeping their vows, either.

The sad part about my job wasn’t making sure these men wouldn’t cheat, or that the couple would stay in love. It was all about keeping the money in the same place: within the elite. Calculating the couples’ values, interests, and psychological patterns to ensure what circumstances in their nature would allow them to thrive financially. Cheating wasn’t really an issue in most billionaire couples anymore. They had their sex parties, they had their younger boyfriends and girlfriends that they liked to spoil, and with a little communication between the parties, my couples’ counselor could convince them that it was just an honest, open relationship where everyone was happy without losing anything. Especially the money and their image. And think of the kids. Oh, the kids…

Money was just…so much more powerful than love, and I couldn’t blame anyone for it. I didn’t believe in love, I believed in power. And money was power. It was mine. It had gotten me out of a life that had almost collapsed in on itself.

If it wasn’t money…the next powerful thing was death.

I was alone and I had money. And Holly. What more could I want?

The party was in full swing by the time Aubrey and I arrived. The marble floor was glistening, chandeliers glittering with an array of precious stones (a beautifully commissioned piece) that cascaded the sunlight into rainbows against the walls. The wine was already flowing, although no one was drunk yet. There was light laughter and chatter in the air from people in soft, flow dresses and light suits. It all reminded me of a more casual and modern version of the Great Gatsby party—in pastel. I looked down at my mint-green chiffon dress, and bronze skin peeking from beneath the slit up my thigh. I’d made a good choice with this dress, especially in pairing it with gold minimalist heels and jewelry.

Aubrey gripped my arm tight, almost cutting off my circulation and pointed to the pool in the center of the large room where flowers and candles floated peacefully.

“Don’t worry.” I patted her hand. “There’s a plexiglass overlay on it.”

Aubrey’s acrylic nails pulled out of my skin, and I almost groaned from pain. One of Aubrey’s exes had gotten a little too drunk for her liking at a New Year’s Party and thought it would be a fun idea to push her into a pool as a prank. I’d warned her that the guy was notorious for humiliating anyone he was associated with, which was why so many people kept their distance. As charming as he seemed, he wasn’t socially adept enough to hold himself accountable or responsible for anything.

“Do rich people always need a pool at their parties?” she grumbled.

“I don’t know, Aubrey.” I chuckled. “You tell me.”

“My dad never had parties around pools,” she huffed.

“How old are you again?”

“Twenty-five. Why?”

The tinkle of delicate glass echoed throughout the room, drawing everyone’s attention to the center of the pool where a woman stood in a delicately embroidered cream-colored dress. Her honey-blonde hair was wrapped in a chignon much like mine, except it was neatly pulled away from her face, while some of my dark-brown strands framed my own.

“All right, remember what we came for.” I tugged Aubrey’s hand. She didn’t need a reminder. Her eyes were already scanning the crowd like a lioness hunting for prey. Aubrey had let her red hair fall straight in a bob around her neck, wrapped in soft pink tulle and a simple silver necklace. She didn’t hide her freckles, and her warm brown eyes were alight with excitement and nervousness.

“There he is,” she gasped and nodded toward the large window where a tall blond man stood in a gray pinstriped suit, flanked by a man and a woman who appeared eerily similar with pale skin, black hair, and blue eyes. The blond guy had eyes equally as bright and blue as the other two, but looked considerably younger. They had to be siblings.

“Wait, which one are you going for?”

“The blond one. His name is Jacque Dupont.”

It came as no surprise that I didn’t recognize them, as I’d gone through the invitation list and noticed that there were around ten people here I hadn’t heard of. Some were definitely foreigners from other countries here on business, but I hadn’t realized so many of them were so…young.

I guessed the parents had brought their kids along to socialize and become familiar with such gatherings. What was I saying? I’d only just turned thirty myself. I was certain the youngest here was Aubrey.

“Does Mr. Holland know you’ve invited me as your plus one?” I asked. “Don’t want the poor guy apologizing again for the next ten minutes when I see him.”

“Do you think I give him anxiety?”

I lifted a brow. “You have anxiety.”

“Fair. Now find out what you can.”

I nodded and made my way around to him, making sure to stay out of their line of sight. I needed to appear beside him out of thin air, as if I were just a forgettable bystander making small talk. Honestly, people like us could make great spies if given the opportunity. Minus life-threatening situations, of course.

Aubrey had seen him on Instagram, following a hashtag about this party to celebrate a new charity establishment as a result of the contributions of everyone in this very room. A state-of-the-art orphanage that ensured a bright future for all that found themselves there, with plans to extend the program further out and make it global. And, honestly, I didn’t want to be suspicious about something so generous, but the rich didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive or massive benefit to them.

This was Selene Alexakis and John Caron we were talking about, though—things could be different. Selene had a classic rags-to-riches tale where a rich man had fallen in love with her: a schoolteacher in an orphanage that had also worked night shifts as a bartender to make ends meet. But she was also cunning. As beautiful as Selene was, she knew she was just another exotic sidepiece for him to brag about on his yacht trips with his buddies. It hadn’t been the first time she had been taken home by a rich man for a night, but she’d learned enough to understand how to get through to one. All it took was a conversation.

No one knew of the words spoken between them that night, but he was smitten with her to the point of eloping, and only returning once his child was born. His parents had been furious at his rebellion, as their family matchmaker had plans to betroth him into the Chevrolet family.

Honestly, Selene had just gotten extremely lucky with John Caron because he was kind of a sweet guy: meek, not very confrontational, and also a pushover. It had been why his decision to elope was such a shock because he was normally completely under his parents’ thumb in all matters of his life.

I’d heard all this two years ago from the family matchmaker, Mrs. Beaumont, who was my former mentor. She’d admitted to being especially bitter at first, until she realized years later this was one of those rare instances that true love blossomed in the lives of the rich. Sure, Selene wasn’t from the wealthiest of backgrounds, but she’d managed to capture the heart of someone like John and inspired him to stand up for what he wanted. And that was magical.

Of course, I’d just scoffed and laughed at the time. She’d laughed, too.

“As many disappointments as we see in our line of work, just remember, mon papillon”— Mrs. Beaumont leaned in—“a heart cannot be swayed.”

Looking at John Caron moving toward his wife with a twinkle in his eye and love in his hands as they reached for her, I guessed she was right. For some lucky few, true love did exist. Selene was likely the kindest person to exist in the billionaire circles, so I hoped her plans would work the way she wanted them to.

That wasn’t going to be me, though, so I needed to move and get to the siblings before I missed my opening for small talk because I was being paid good money for this. I could only hope that maybe someone existed for Aubrey, and she would find love just like Selene and John.

I walked casually behind the refreshments table, making a beeline for the pillar and standing behind it to assess my surroundings. Most people were still fixated on the couple, some breaking away every now and then for a slice of dessert or a drink. The blue-eyed siblings were still by the window, with the blonde sitting on the sill, appearing bored and chewing gum.

Keeping behind the pillars, I finally neared the window they were positioned around. The dark-haired boy had resorted to using his phone to kill time while the girl seemed like she was searching for someone. She soon walked away after spotting another girl in the crowd, who turned around and hugged her, erupting in excited whispers.

Narrowing my eyes at the boy, I prayed to whatever entities that existed he wasn’t wearing air pods. Every time I was at a social and needed to assess the coming generation to profile them as suitors, I’d have to deal with that cursed invention. I once had to bump into a girl “accidentally” for her to take them off so we could talk. The young man was still too far away for me to get a good look at, so I dug into my purse for my tiny golden binoculars. I know, silly, but some things need to happen from a distance before making the first move.

No earbuds! I cheered internally and stuffed my binoculars away. Keeping to the wall and the spaces between people, I finally positioned myself about five feet away from my target. Noticing a server coming our way, I casually moved forward to pick up a drink off the tray and took a sip. I’d ended up just by the two men.

A round of applause filled the room, and the boys looked up to see what was going on. Observing from the corner of my eye, I found the blond man’s eyes fall on Selene and John.

“She’s beautiful, no?” I said, feigning distraction.

“She doesn’t age…” He trailed off absently, and I glanced over to see his narrowed eyes fixated on her. “That’s kind of suspicious. Do Greeks have vampires in their mythology?”

What even… I pondered in confusion, Good grief he’s probably an airhead…like Aubrey!

“W-what? No, I’m not aware of any.”

“But I know of Dracula’s existence.”

“That’s Romanian history,” I muttered with a sip to calm myself because I could feel the judgment coming on.

“Rome, Greece, same thing.”

I choked on my rose vodka.

Definitely an airhead. How on earth did this guy get into the University of Paris?

“I’m guessing your parents also contributed to the orphanage program to be here.”

“Kind of. They’re mainly here to fix ties with Uncle John and his wife.”

The surprise of it caught me off guard and I held onto the wall casually, trying to play it off. Mrs. Beaumont never mentioned this part of the story.

“Will it be awkward for you?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said thoughtfully. “We’ll see at the dinner party.”

“You’ll be pretty bored until then,” I suggested while tapping away on my phone and shooting Aubrey a message to bring herself over. This was so unconventional of me because it wasn’t what matchmakers should be doing at all, but I figured Aubrey’s anxiety had rendered her unable to communicate with strangers without assistance. Anyway, this was more like freelance than anything too serious. I was just doing what Aubrey wanted and being paid for it.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I don’t know many people here.”

“Would you like a tour of this place? It has incredible architecture.” I asked quickly and waved Aubrey over discreetly to stand next to me. “My friend Aubrey Holland has been here quite often. Her parents are best friends with John and Selene. She could show you around.”

I was hoping he would accept considering he was supposed to be studying architecture. I could see his eyes widen in curiosity and finally look over at us. He studied Aubrey’s face curiously, who appeared a bit flushed beside me. I pinched her hand and she shot it forward to him.

“Hello.” She greeted nervously. “You must be new here, huh?”

Jacque stood up and shook her hand softly, lips in a gentle smile as if trying to ease her.

“Yeah, I am. I’ve been wanting to take a look, but I didn’t know if it would be inappropriate to leave the room to snoop around.”

Jacque’s entire demeanor had changed in an instant. What was with pretty girls having this effect on men? Like a gentleman, he lifted her hand and led her away. I watched the two, slightly impressed. That went a lot better than I expected. I smiled at their retreating backs and turned around, taking a sip of my drink, deciding to enjoy the party and socializing with the others here that I hadn’t met before.

“Oof!”

People gasped nearby as I slipped from the impact against a literal wall and fell backward. I braced myself for the impact my poor butt would suffer but it never came. A strong grip around my bicep held me, suspended inches from the floor, and my nails dug desperately into the forearm of…

“Cristo?” I observed him carefully in confusion. How had he changed that much?

He wasn’t just tanned, he was a brushed deep golden color. His gray eyes were stormy and so intense, with stubble that highlighted his sharp jaw and lifted his bone structure like a Greek god. I mean, he was half-Greek so I could see it. He’d taken good care of his hair: dark and slicked back over his head, swept a little to the side. I was absolutely stunned. He’d aged better than anyone else I knew. I didn’t think anyone could be this good looking.

“Ah, you remember me.” He chuckled with a wag of his finger. “Oops.”

His grip disappeared and I finally found the floor, luckily it didn’t hurt as bad as it would have had he not caught me previously.

“I see you remember me, too.” I huffed as I pushed myself to stand. I felt a delicate hand at my bicep help me up. “Felicé, you gem, thank you. How’s Howard?”

“He’s doing all right.” She kissed my cheek in greeting. “Hope the fall didn’t hurt you too badly.”

“I’ll be all right.” I smiled and she walked away, waving to Cristo in acknowledgment.

“Did you have to do that?” I snapped and dusted myself off, reaching for the handkerchief in his breast pocket to wipe away the alcohol stain on the skirt of my dress. I avoided looking him in the eyes and kept my head down. He was so tall, around six foot one, I guessed. I would have to crane my neck to look him in the eyes and doing that for too long would be painful.

“Consider it payback. You have a strong arm, though,” he commented playfully. “I bet you punch harder, too.”

“That was one time.” I rolled my eyes.

Cristo Caron was the one and only son to Selene and John, and heir to Alexakis Enterprise. We’d only met once six years ago when I was tasked to profile him for an engagement request. We’d met at a quiet restaurant where he tried escaping from me by excusing himself to the bathroom. I’d waited for him at the back entrance of the kitchen with my arms crossed, unamused. I would’ve let him go if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Beaumont’s assignment. Part of the job was to learn to work with unwilling parties. They were usually the children of rich people.

I hadn’t been sure how he managed to get past me and escape, but he was so fast. I still wasn’t going to give up and followed him out, finding myself in a maze of dark alleyways. Ten minutes into the search, I’d run into a group of burly thugs and found myself cornered by them. Despite my fighting instincts kicking in, I knew I would die that day. It hadn’t been the first time I’d been beaten up by men, but there was only so much I would be able to bear. Plus, those guys had weapons.

The next second, I was roughly pulled around the corner by someone. In my defense, it was a natural reflex to punch whoever it was.

“Ow…” Cristo breathed. “That was a good punch, lady.”

“Cristo!”

“Leave this to me.” He shook his head and took his jacket off to wrap around me. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m sorry.”

The rest was history. I’d called the police, he’d ended up with a few bruises, but the other guys hadn’t looked any better. Selene and John apologized to me profusely after collecting their son from the station and dropping me home. Of course, I told Mrs. Beaumont everything. The only thing she’d been concerned about was where Cristo had gotten his speed and cunning from.

I’d still failed that assignment, though.

“What brings you back to New York?” I held his handkerchief out to him. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with your parents after what happened that night.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m in charge of designing the orphanages.”

“Huh.” I raised a brow. Why were so many rich kids interested in architecture these days? “Weren’t you becoming a sculptor?”

“Double major.” He grinned.

I couldn’t understand how he had such a playful demeanor at thirty. I knew rich men were either pretty cocky or sophisticated, but playful? He had this gleam in his eyes that held a childlike innocence that even teenagers didn’t have anymore. A server came over to hand him a suspiciously dark drink, who then fist-bumped him and went off.

I cocked a brow at him.

“Don’t worry.” He chuckled. “It’s just a berry mix. I’m allergic to alcohol, remember?”

“Oh.” I felt my face grow hot. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten. The reason I was so sought out was because I had an exceptionally good memory and remembered even the most insignificant details.

“What’s wrong, Lilith?” He cocked his head with a smirk. “Getting a little old for this job?”

I balled up my fist, giving him a pointed expression, irritation crawling up my chest. Although what he said was perfectly harmless, I was hearing a lot of it from my mom, too. Getting too old for marriage, too old for children, too old for men. That I would be alone all of my life if I didn’t find someone soon. It was the reason why I’d sent her on that cruise—to finally get some peace from the constant reminder that time was slipping by—and I still wasn’t happy like I should be.

“You’re too old to be fighting like this with Mark’s mother, too,” Her voice echoed through my head, “It’s been years, you know? Just let it go.”

The anger I was feeling was real, and I knew I was going to have to deal with yet another episode of PTSD on my own. I was angry at myself, too. How could something so small set me off so easily? I just wanted to have fun today.

I wanted to return with a snarky retort, but my mind had come up blank. All I could think of were vile responses that would be a little too personal for either of us. I wasn’t the type to do that, and I understood alcohol was a touchy subject for him because he’d almost died a few times due to his allergy.

So, I simply turned away from him and walked off, deciding to go home. I wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with him. I could feel his confused gaze burn into the back of my head.

“Lilith?”

I ignored him and kept walking.

I pushed open my apartment door, fell face-first onto the couch and let the heels fall off my feet. I cried. Holly sniffed around my feet and came to my face, with a curious yelp of alarm as she heard my sobs. I needed to be alone. It wasn’t even 3 p.m. yet, and I was already an exhausted mess.

Holly licked my hand, and I lifted my head and looked at her through tears.

“Do you think they’re right, Holly?” I sniffled. “Am I getting too old?”

She only barked in response and licked my cheek to wipe away the tears.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” I hiccupped, pushing myself up to sit and patting my lap. Holly jumped on and snuggled her face into my neck. I held onto her and cried, still feeling lonely. Maybe lonelier than ever before.

I knew I needed therapy, but it was so hard to open up to people at all. I guessed I wasn’t ready to try it yet. Medication? I was deathly scared of becoming dependent on pills, no matter how helpful they were. Trust issues were a given with everything I’d dealt with to make it here. But there was this glass wall between me and other people that I couldn’t seem to break. I couldn’t understand what was so different about me that caused me to feel this way. I had a fairly open-mind and could understand where someone was coming from. I could empathize with people easily and could hold a decent conversation with almost anyone.

Then why did I feel so alone? How did I know so many people but had no one to call a friend yet?

And what the hell was I going to wear to dinner at Mom’s tonight?