Page 14 of Falling for My Matchmaker (The Matchmaker Files #1)

“Welcome back to Crimes and Consequences ,” the host said into the mic.

“I’m Elliot Graves, and our today’s guest is Diana Martin.

She made headlines six months ago when what started as a promising third date turned into a locked-room situation involving a fake name, missing cell signal, and one very unsettling conversation.

You might’ve heard the memes. You might’ve shared them.

Either way—she’s here, she’s safe, and she brought company. ”

Elliot turned to me. “So, Diana, take us back. Last time we talked, the story had just hit the news. How are you now, six months out?”

“Alive, solvent, moderately famous in the niche category of Women Who Intimidated Their Captors Into Fleeing ,” I said. “And also off the dating apps. Permanently.”

“Because...?”

I turned slightly toward the man sitting beside me—calm, buttoned-up, smiling like he knew all the secrets of the room.

“This is Nate. Formerly my matchmaker who tracked down the kidnapper. Currently my fiancé.”

Elliot leaned into the mic. “Plot twist of the century.”

Nate raised a hand. “Hi.”

“So let’s talk logistics,” Elliot said. “You were off the grid. Drugged. No signal. How did anyone even find you?”

I glanced at Nate, who nodded like I had full clearance to tell it.

“Well,” I said, “I texted Nate just enough for him to panic responsibly. He went straight to Claudia, who had previously seen that my date was suspicious—which meant she had to go full FBI with only a first name, three emojis, and a blurry profile pic.”

“And?”

“She built a psychological profile and location estimate before lunch.”

“And then?”

“And then Nate looped in Alex—Matchbox’s new systems engineer-slash-data wizard—who somehow used metadata, behavioral patterns, and something involving a spreadsheet with no vowels to narrow down my possible location.”

Elliot turned to Nate. “You guys tracked her by vibe?”

“Technically by ping decay and triangulation modeling,” Nate said calmly. “But yes. Vibe.”

I shrugged. “And then Nate drove out, got the cops involved, and kicked down a metaphorical door. I don’t remember much after that, except Sprite, fluorescent lights, and Nate arguing with a paramedic because they wouldn’t let him stay in the room.”

Nate nodded.

“As for the guy?” I said, turning back to Elliot. “Let’s just say there was a plea deal and I’m not legally allowed to go into detail. But I did get a very nice weighted blanket and enough hush money to pay off my student loans and fund a honeymoon.”

Elliot let out a low whistle. “Not bad for a trauma redemption arc.”

“Not bad,” I agreed. “Wouldn’t recommend the method.”

He chuckled, leaning into the mic. “So what’s the moral here? Trust your gut? Background checks and pepper spray? ”

I grinned. “Date with your brain on. And if something feels off? It probably is. Call a friend, or call your matchmaker.”

He nodded. “Listeners, turns out survival makes a solid foundation for romance.”

The theme music swelled.

Somewhere out there, another woman was going on a terrible date.

But me? I had a lawyer, a fiancé, and the rest of the afternoon off.