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Three more men entered, one stumbling when he caught sight of Astrid. Lust sighed.

"Don't tell me," I said. "The stumbling one's file just says 'likes shiny things'?"

" 'Appreciates natural beauty,' actually."

"I hope you know that you are literally the worst at this." I watched another potential match fumble his greeting to Astrid.

"If you want better, work for Cupid," he sniffed. "They're picky about their clientele, expensive as hell, but they have good results."

I tapped my finger on the side of my thigh, an idea forming. "Speaking of results, we need to discuss our original deal. You said ten couples in ten days for ten thousand, but you only had five women available for matching. Either I need to find five more women, or we renegotiate the terms."

His jaw tightened slightly. "The agency is always acquiring new clients?—"

"Right now, tonight, I have five women and you have," I gestured at the crowd, "way more than five men. So that's five thousand for five matches, not ten. Except you set me up to fail from the beginning with your terrible files and missing photos." I crossed my arms. "I'm thinking seven thousand is more fair compensation for cleaning up your mess."

"You've been here a week, and you're already renegotiating?"

"I'm efficient like that." I flashed him my sweetest smile. "How about this? Six thousand for getting all five matched tonight. And if any of them turn into actual love matches that last longer than a month..."

"You're pushing your luck."

"And you're missing the quota. Better than letting Aydan handle your emergency matches."

He studied me for a long moment, that sin energy making the air between us feel thick. "Five thousand five hundred for the matches."

"Six thousand, and I won't mention your terrible filing system at the next staff meeting."

"Five thousand seven hundred and fifty, and you stop smirking every time someone mentions quotas."

"Deal." I extended my hand. "Shake on it?"

His palm met mine, warm and electric. For a heartbeat too long, neither of us let go.

"You do realize," he said softly, "that betting with a sin is dangerous?"

I withdrew my hand, ignoring the lingering tingle. "So is taking a job at a matchmaking agency when you don't believe in love, but I think we both know how that's going to work out."

His eyes sharpened with sudden interest, and something in that predatory focus made me shift uncomfortably. I caught Diana's eye across the crowd and she gave me a subtle thumbs up, saving me from whatever questions were forming behind those too-perceptive eyes.

I took my place near the fountain, smoothing down my sweater for the tenth time.

"Thank you all for coming, and special thanks to Diana for letting us use her beautiful garden for tonight's mixer." Diana inclined her head gracefully from where she stood near the roses.

"For those joining us, we'll start with an hour of mingling and refreshments." My voice came out steadier than expected, though my fingers kept fidgeting with my glass. "After that, each lady will select up to three gentlemen for private conversations in our designated areas."

I cleared my throat. "Just a few ground rules to keep things civil: no compulsions, no shifting without warning, and please—no territory marking." That last bit earned a laugh from Elena, while Ruby rolled her eyes. "Remember, everyone here is looking for a genuine connection."

Vivienne caught my eye and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, her attention already drifting to the dark-haired vampire who kept pretending not to notice her. Astrid's presence alone seemed to be drawing half the room's attention.

"Well then," I lifted my glass, hoping nobody noticed how my hand trembled, "let's begin."

As the crowd broke into smaller groups, I caught Lust watching me with that infuriating smirk. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. Right. Time to prove I could make better matches with my week of experience than he had with his years of practice and questionable filing methods.

The evening air settled around us like a comfortable blanket as conversations started to flow. I leaned against the fountain's edge, watching Vivienne pretend she wasn't watching the dark-haired vampire. Something flickered at the edge of my vision—a weird smoky haze that reminded me of heat waves rising from summer pavement.

I blinked hard. Too much stress, obviously. Except...there it was again. Soft lavender mist clung to Vivienne's shoulders like expensive perfume.

"What's wrong with me? Why does this keep happening?" I muttered, rubbing my temples. The vampire—Marcus, according to his file—had his own haze. Deep violet, like twilight just before full dark.