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Thea's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "Trust me, he’s the real deal.”

Later,I curled up in a large armchair, surrounded by the cozy cottage that somehow already felt like home. The work laptop that Lust ‘kindly’ allowed me to borrow balanced precariously on my knees as I toggled between venue websites and pack territory maps.

A cup of peppermint tea sat cold beside me–my third today as part of my self-declared ‘cleanse’ until my first paycheck comes through next week. After everything Diana had done for me–the perfect cottage, a closet full of clothes that fit like they were made for me–I couldn't bring myself to ask for more. The late spring breeze carried the scent of the thyme and oregano still thriving in the garden, mixing with the earthy scent of fallen leaves.

"Requirements for a supernatural mixer venue," I read from my notes. "Vampire-friendly lighting. Soundproofing for banshee clients. No windows facing public areas." I tapped my pen against the notepad, adding, "Absolutely nothing in or near any pack territory." The barn venue on my screen was Pinterest-perfect, all exposed beams and twinkly lights. Also completely useless unless I want smartphone footage of werewolf drama going viral before the event ended.

The next venue listing made me snort. "Because nothing says 'supernatural mixer' like floor-to-ceiling windows facing a public park."

A gentle knock interrupted my venue critique, bringing with it the most heavenly smell of melted cheese. Diana stood in my doorway, looking effortlessly elegant in a casual sweater dress, holding a picnic basket that made my stomach perform an embarrassingly loud symphony.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, the picnic basket swaying gently in her grip. My stomach's orchestral response made her laugh.

"Just wrestling with work problems," I said, trying to maintain dignity while my body betrayed exactly how long it's been since I last ate.

"May I come in?" She waited for my nod before entering, her movements graceful as she settled onto a chair in the living room. "On your first day? That seems rather eager of them."

"You really didn't have to..." I started, but she was already unpacking what smelled like heaven itself onto the coffee table. "Let me get us some bowls," I said, heading for the kitchen.

"The good spoons are in the drawer by the sink," she called after me, still unpacking containers that definitely shouldn't fit in that basket. "I was testing new recipes and made far too much. Besides, I realized that I hadn’t considered that you would have no money to buy food. I’m so sorry. You must be starving!" She handed me a bowl of tomato soup that smelled like late summer gardens. "Now, tell me what has you wound up so tight?"

I should feel defensive about accepting more help, but there was something about Diana that made it feel...safe. Like she genuinely wanted to know, rather than collecting information to use against me later.

I hesitated, but the scent of tomato soup broke my resolve. "Work project. We are hosting a mixer, but finding a venue is..." I accepted the bowl she offered, trying not to look desperate. "Complex."

"A mixer?" Her eyes shifted from sea-green to storm-gray, sudden interest flickering across her perfect features. "Tell me more?"

The soup warmed me from the inside out. I took another spoonful, weighing my words. "Actually, it was my idea. The client base needs more diversity for proper matching."

"And what specific requirements make finding a venue so...challenging?" There was an edge to her voice now, like she was teasing out a secret.

"The lighting needs to be..." I paused, my fingers from one hand finding a lock of my hair to twist while I figured out how to put this correctly. If she wasn’t part of the paranormal community I couldn’t just blurt this out, but what are the chances that she knows Lust and he owes her a favor when he runs a paranormal matchmaking agency without being part of it? I can’t imagine him owing anyone anything if they were just a normal person.

"Adjustable?" Her voice softened. "For those who prefer the shadows?"

My hand froze.

"And I imagine," she continued, "you'll need exceptional soundproofing. Some voices carry rather...distinctively. Plus neutral ground, of course. Can't have certain groups feeling territorial."

My spoon clattered against the bowl. "How do you know about–"

"About your little supernatural matchmaking dilemma?" Diana swirled her spoon through her bowl, looking suspiciously pleased with herself. "Let's just say Lust is absolutely terrible at running a matchmaking agency. Which is entirely my fault, but watching him fumble through it brings me joy."

"Your fault?"

"Mm. He owes me." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though watching him try to match supernatural couples while being constitutionally incapable is..." She chef-kissed the air. "Pure entertainment."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped. "That...actually answers a few questions I've had about things."

"Do tell," Diana settled deeper into her chair, stirring her soup with evident delight. "I rarely get to share the more...entertaining aspects of Lust's predicament."

"Well, from what I've seen so far, his client database is..." I paused, searching for a diplomatic word, "Limited. Mostly male clients, barely any background information collected. After spending all day going through the files, I'm not even sure he's managed any successful matches."

Her laugh filled the room. "Watching him try to understand the concept of 'romantic compatibility' is rather like watching a cat attempt calculus."

"And yet he runs a matchmaking agency."

"A punishment that keeps on giving." She tore off a piece of her sandwich, dipping it in her soup. "Though I must admit, your mixer idea has potential. Fresh blood, as it were, in the dating pool."