Note to Readers
Megan
“HE WANTS YOU to do what?”
Heavy spring rain pummels the Manhattan streets, along with the café’s windows as I sip my mocha latte and take in Amanda’s wide-eyed stare. Thick, black lashes blink rapidly as she works to absorb this crazy turn of events; and for God’s sake if she doesn’t pick her jaw up from the table, she’s going to catch the fly buzzing around her jelly-filled doughnut.
“I know. Insane, right?” I say to my best friend, and give a slow shake of my head, still unable to believe what billionaire James Carson has asked me to do. Although, I have to admit, I’m more shocked that I actually agreed to do it. I mull it over for a second and a burst of unease moves through me as I think about putting his plan into motion. Am I making a big mistake? Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to it at all.
Amanda lifts her mug to her mouth and looks at me over the rim before asking, “Is the man losing his mind?”
“He’s ninety.” I flip my hand over. “So, I get why you’d think that, but after talking to him it’s clear he’s as sharp now as he was when I met him back in high school. Hard to believe he’s playing with a full deck, though, considering what he wants me to do.”
Every time the bell over the door chimes as it opens, my stomach does a little somersault. I’m far more nervous about this afternoon’s meeting than I thought I would be. It’s been eight years since I’ve set eyes on Alec Carson. Eight long years and I’ve never stopped thinking about him. Never stopped wanting to stab him in the eye with a fork.
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Amanda says. “James Carson wants you to find his grandson a wife?” She rubs her finger between her eyebrows, one of her cute quirks when she’s trying to wrap her brain around something. Her nose crinkles. “But you’re an event planner, not a matchmaker.”
“I know, and I don’t know the first thing about matchmaking. Cripes, the last time I used a dating site, I ended up with a narcissistic lawyer who probably feasted upon the dreams of innocent children.” I give a low, slow whistle. “Not going there again.”
Amanda laughs, and my stomach comes alive when the bell jingles again. By the time Alec arrives, I’m going to be a jittery mess. I need to keep it together, but facing the boy I once loved, the boy I gave my virginity to, is messing with my mind and body in the worst kind of way. Then again, he’s not a boy anymore and I’m not some innocent, naive love-struck teen. Truthfully, I never expected the grandson of billionaire magnate James Carson—a sweet, generous old man who always put family first—to walk away from me after a beautiful prom night in St. Moritz, without so much as a backward glance. We spent nearly all of senior year together, and I thought he was different. I thought we had something special. Thought he didn’t care that I was from the wrong side of the tracks.
I thought wrong.
He always teased that I was the girl-next-door type, and I thought he liked that about me. In the end, however, it was just another thing I was mistaken about. I guess bigger and better, more glamorous, was waiting for him at Harvard. He didn’t want the poor, parentless girl from Philly holding him back. Now he’s a financier at Blackstone Venture Partners, working his way through the ranks at the multimillion-dollar holding company, one harsh corporate takeover at a time.
Ah, what was that you just said about feasting upon the dreams of innocent children?
“And Alec actually agreed to this?” Amanda asks, her damp blond hair brushing over her shoulder as she shakes her head, incredulous.
I run my hand over my own curls, a frizzy mess from the weather, and work to make myself presentable. Jesus, am I seriously preening for the jerk? Suppressed anger surfaces as I reach for my latte, take another fast sip, irritated with myself.
“His granddad set this up, and Alec is meeting me here, so he must have agreed,” I say.
“I get why you’re doing it. You find him a wife and throw him the royal wedding of the century, no expenses spared.
