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I hated what that action of hers did to my dick and resisted the urge to shift to get more comfortable.

“Help with what?” she asked, finally meeting my eyes.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t know if you heard my assistant, but I am in danger of missing my monthly quota. My boss demands a certain number of successful matches and happy customers with glowing reviews.”

Reaching down to open my top left drawer, I grabbed a large stack of folders, all black.

“Each folder is a client that has yet to find their ‘happily ever after,’ ” I nearly gagged saying the trademarked phrase, but Diana insisted. Always. “And there are many, many more, but these will do for now.”

The witch’s eyes lit with a mild spark of interest as her hand twitched toward a folder.

“Go ahead,” I encouraged, picking up a red folder.

“As you see, the folder contains basic demographics, likes, dislikes, etc. of all our clients and what they’re looking for.”

I yanked open my top right hand drawer, with a much smaller pile of pink folders. Black and pink. Aydan was hilarious. “This is our current stable of available women.”

She eyed the large, disorganized pile of black folders, then the neat, tidy, few pink ones.

“Seems...balanced. Perhaps that’s the reason you’re not meeting your quota.”

I didn’t want anyone’s opinion on why I was falling behind...least of all someone who just walked in my door minutes ago.

But I wasn’t my brother, Pride. I wouldn’t look a gift horse—or witch—in the mouth.

“I need ten couples before the month ends in ten days. Want to split them?” I asked.

Her lips parted in surprise.

“Split? I’ve only just got here! I don’t know your policies or procedures, and?—”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

The folder she’d been holding fell to the ground, spilling its papers everywhere. A heavy-set, red-headed woman with a homely face stared back at us from the floor, her expression resigned and miserable.

That poor woman’s chances of landing a guy were about the same as me pulling off this quota—nearly impossible.

The woman’s eyes also hovered on the photo as she bit her lower lip, considering. I reached for the folder.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” She scooped up five of the pink folders, including the one with the red head. Not that I would fight her for that one. Some people were just...harder to market.

I blinked, remembering my roles.

“Fantastic,” I managed, flashing a brilliant grin. “Swing by the second door on the left, Marguerite will set you up with everything for HR.”

She stood, grasping the folders tightly in her arms. She glared at me as though I’d said something offensive.

“Great. If that’s all the instruction I get...”

I took great care to offend people constantly. I’d know if I’d have said anything to merit such a look, and I hadn’t.

I think.

I nodded and sat, rifling through the black folders to pick my five lucky men to work on.

“You’re such an ass,” she shot out, turning around and giving me a great view of hers as she stalked out of my office, her hips swaying in her righteous indignation.

She paused in the hallway, whipping around and staring at me hopefully.