that Sergio was officially off the market.
The guests whooped with joy for the happy couple and the band segued to Earth Wind and Fire’s Celebration.
It was nearly 2:00 a.m. by the time the last guest filed out. Melanie locked the door, kicked off her shoes and went to join her family in the kitchen.
“We’re all crashing here tonight,” her nephew Vincent announced, draping his arm around his wife, Cherise. Veronica, his sister, and their cousin Jessica were seated at the table with their heads nestled on their folded arms.
“Fine with me. You know where your rooms are.” Melanie yawned.
Jessica stood and stretched. “Pretty great about Sergio and Valencia.”
They all hummed their agreement, too tired to do much else, and began to drift to their rooms murmuring their good nights.
Melanie set the alarm and turned out the lights. From the top of the stairs she looked out at the room that had been filled with happy, eager people searching for and in some cases finding love.
She turned and opened the door to her bedroom. Her work at least for tonight was done. Tomorrow was another full day. She yawned again. She was going to need every wink of sleep she could get.
Chapter 1
Melanie Harte reluctantly stirred from a deep sleep. She’d dreamed of Steven last night and the three beautiful years they’d spent together. It had been nearly a decade since his death. And although the loss did not feel as painful as it once had, a dull, nagging ache still remained. Widowed at the age of twenty-six, the tragedy had taken all the effervescence out of Melanie’s naturally bubbly personality like a soda gone flat. Like her mother and her grandmother, Melanie believed in everlasting love and that there was that special someone for everybody. With Steven gone, so was everything that she’d believed in. At least that is what she’d told herself.
So it was her grandmother, who she’d been named after, and her mother, Carolyn, who came to rescue their wounded darling and immersed her in the family business. Melanie was sure it had saved her life or at least saved her from a life of loneliness.
She worked side-by-side with her Gran and her mother, finding the perfect match for those seeking true love. But their clients were not your casual romance seekers. They were the elite, those rare birds who soared in the stratosphere of celebrity, wealth and high society, whose lifestyles, professions and often notoriety actually worked against them when it came to romance. So they turned to The Platinum Society, Melanie Harte and her expert team of matchmakers to find them that special someone—for a very large fee, of course. Her business afforded her the luxurious lifestyle to which she’d grown very comfortable and accustomed to—a mansion on the bluff of the historic African-American enclave of Sag Harbor in New York’s Hamptons, a private jet, a new car every year, a yacht, a hefty bank account, entree to premieres, parties and private dinners virtually in every city in the United States and Europe, an extensive wardrobe and friends around the globe.
It was a good life, she mused as she poked her head above the billowy taupe-colored comforter and squinted against the morning sun. Its intensity and beauty reflected across the water and beamed down through the skylight and the floor-to-ceiling windows of her bedroom. A beautiful summer day was on the horizon and Melanie was sure that the beaches, shops and streets would be teeming with tourists and locals out enjoying the day. She realized the temperature had risen considerably overnight as she sat up and planted her feet on the floor beside the bed. She stood and crossed the room to adjust the central air.
Tugging her silk robe around her, she scurried to the bathroom and turned on the bathtub jets for her morning soak.
She had a thriving business, she thought as she poured bath salts and a capful of baby oil into the bath water, a devoted family and more money than she could ever spend. She was happy. Wasn’t she?
By the time she emerged from the sanctuary of her bedroom suite, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and homemade biscuits tickled her nose. She’d reluctantly hired a personal chef, Evan, after a stellar recommendation from one of her clients. She usually only hired a chef and caterers when she was hosting a party. But she’d come to realize that after the end of a hard day and because she was alone, she rarely ate. And if she did it wasn’t anything healthy. As a result, she’d put on a few extra pounds in the past few months. Pounds that she was determined to shed with diet and exercise. Now she had the incentive to use her home gym.
Dressed in a pearl-gray sleeveless silk jersey top and pants, she walked into the kitchen—her three-inch heels clicking against the floor—to greet Evan and have breakfast.
“Good morning, Evan,” she said, swiping a flaky biscuit from the plate on the counter.
Evan turned around from the stainless steel commercial-grade oven with a spatula in his hand. “Good morning. I was preparing an omelet for you. Your nieces and nephew are in the dining room.”
“They’re here already?”
“They arrived about an hour ago. There’s fresh fruit on the table. Coffee or tea?”
Melanie grinned. “Tea.” She eased alongside of him to see if she could get a peek at the omelet ingredients. His omelets were to die for and so nutritious.
Evan immediately covered the bowl of ingredients. “Let it be a surprise. Go join the family. I’ll bring your breakfast shortly.”
Melanie made a face and walked away.
Vincent, Veronica and Jessica were seated around the dining table that could expand to seat ten.
“Morning, Aunt Mel,” they chorused.
“How is everyone?” Melanie asked as she poured a glass of orange juice.
“Good,” Vincent said. “I went over the accounts last night and—”
“I don’t know how Cherise stays married to you,” Veronica interjected with a mouth full of pineapple slices. “All you do is work.”
Vincent glared at his sister. “Trust me, I make sure my wife is very happy.”
“Cherise never complains,” Jessica said, putting in her two cents. “All of Vincent’s work seems to keep Cherise very happy.”
“You’re much too young to understand, Jess,” Veronica said. “A woman wants more than things. She wants to be wined, dined and romanced. Right, Aunt Mel?”
“You’re absolutely right, Veronica,” Melanie agreed. Jessica made a face at her cousin. “But Vince was taught by the best, Grandma Harte. I’m sure he knows how to take care of home.” She winked at her nephew.
Evan brought Melanie an overstuffed omelet and set it down in front of her with a flourish.
“Hmm,” Melanie uttered in appreciation. “Thank you, Evan.”
“Anyone need anything?” he said, looking around the table.
“We’re good,” Vincent said.
Evan nodded and walked back into the kitchen.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Melanie asked, cutting into her omelet
