Page 3

When I hear the word “fiancée” roll off Mark's tongue, my heart starts to race. Fiancée? Is he crazy? I barely know the man, and now he's claiming we're engaged? A thousand thoughts race through my mind—the main one being that this man is utterly insane. But one thought stands out: His intervention is ridiculously timely.

The gears in my head crank into overdrive. If playing his game means dodging Charlie's sleazy advances, then let the charade begin.

If I contradict him now, it'll only make things worse with Charlie, who has made me uncomfortable since the moment I met him. He hasn’t taken no for an answer and has ignored every attempt of mine to keep this professional.

So, I plaster on a smile, hoping it looks genuine, and lean into Mark. No harm can come from this lie, given that Mark definitely isn’t into me. How could he be? We’ve only spoken for five minutes.

“Fiancée? Is that so?” Charlie's voice drips with suspicion.

He narrows his eyes at Mark in utter disbelief.

I can tell he feels he’s been dealt an unexpected hand and is desperately trying to call a bluff, but he simply doesn’t know how.

“Of course,” Mark says, removing his arm from my waist and casually draping it over my shoulders, as if we’ve stood in this position a million times already.

His confidence is infuriatingly attractive—it practically oozes from him like some kind of pheromone.

“Quinn here has been the light of my life for quite some time. Haven't you, Darling?”

I force a smile, trying to make it as warm and bright as a mid-July sunny day, hoping it hides how my hands tremble as I lie. “Absolutely,” I purr, leaning into his side. It feels like cuddling up to a marble statue. But damn, does he smell good.

“Really?” Charlie probes, clearly unconvinced. There's a twitch in his jaw, which I take as the subtle tell that he’s on edge. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone, Mark.

”

“Didn’t realize you still had tabs on me, Letvin,” Mark replies, his tone icy enough to chill me to the bone.

My gaze shifts between the two men, and I start to understand that, somehow, they know each other.

Mark wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close.

“Besides, it's a recent development,” he says smoothly, his lips brushing against my temple. “We wanted to keep it private, didn't we, Babe?”

I nod, leaning into his embrace despite the voice in my head screaming at me to get out of this ridiculous situation. “Y-Yes, it's all very new.” My voice wavers slightly, and I sincerely hope that Charlie doesn't notice.

”Congratulations,” he says, but there's no warmth in his words. “Your brothers must be very happy, considering you’re not one to play the knight in shining armor. I thought you were more the ‘love them and leave them’ type. “He gives me a pointed look, as though he’s revealing some big secret to destroy our supposed relationship, before turning back to Mark.

“I guess I never found the right one until Quinn,” Mark retorts sharply, pulling me closer, almost possessively. “A woman as incredible as her is hard to come by.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the motion, at the defensiveness in his voice for me, a complete stranger.

I glance between them, sensing a history I'm not privy to. The way they stare each other down and the barely concealed hostility in their words make it clear that they know each other well and that there's some bad blood between them. But now is not the time to pry. I have bigger problems to deal with, like the fact that I'm now apparently engaged to a man I barely know.

The ‘ love them and leave them type?’ I’m not surprised, seeing how goddamn confident, handsome, and clearly successful Mark is. I have no doubt he’s had a colorful past.

Not that it’s any of my business.

“The wedding is going to be intimate ,” Mark lies smoothly, his fingers digging into my hip.

“Family and close friends only.”

“Close friends. Intimate wedding,” Charlie repeats, the word dripping with doubt.

“Right. Whatever you say.”

“ Whatever I say? Unlike you, Charlie, I don’t have to lie about a thing,” Mark laughs in his face.

“Now what the hell do you mean by that?” Charlie bellows, his voice rising so high that a couple of patrons look in our direction.

Okay. Clearly, there’s a history of rivalry here that runs deep, and somehow, I’m caught in the crossfire.

“What I’m saying is, I choose to live my life with dignity. Unlike you, who needs to hire people like my fiancée to help you improve and learn to be the kind of man a woman might be slightly interested in. Knowing you, you’re going to have to weasel your way into a relationship, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you, Mark,” Charlie says, his face turning red with anger.

“I doubt a marriage with an asshole like you is ever going to last.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about my future,” Mark laughs .

“ I could always hire a little matchmaking service like you did.”

The jab hits its mark.

Charlie bristles, the vein in his neck throbbing with indignation.

“Careful, Mark. Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.”

“Glass houses?” Mark chuckles, the sound dark and menacing. “My dear Charlie, I prefer fortresses. Keeps out the riffraff.”

Their words are sharp, each sentence delivered to cause a hit to the other’s pride. I stand there mute, too afraid to help calm this situation down, and mildly curious about how all this will play out.

Charlie scoffs, shaking his head. “We'll see about that. Fortresses aren’t all that strong.” He turns to me, his gaze raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I'm afraid I'll have to cancel our meeting, Quinn. It seems you have your hands full at the moment.”

I feel a rush of relief, followed by a twinge of indignation at how creepily he’s staring at me, as if I'm some object he wants to pick up. But I force a professional smile, nodding curtly.

“I understand, Charlie. Maybe another time.”

Just then, Mark intervenes. “Now, if you'll excuse us, my fiancée and I must get going.”

Mark turns around, pulling me with him. I stumble slightly, caught off guard by the sudden movement, but his arm around my waist keeps me steady. I glance up at him, taking in the hard set of his jaw and the anger in his eyes. In this moment, he looks like a very dangerous man indeed. One whom I wouldn’t wish to cross under any circumstances.

As Mark leads me away, I can feel Charlie's gaze boring into my back. My hands feel clammy and my breaths come out rapid. I may have lost a client. But I avoided an uncomfortable situation and can only bring myself to feel relief.

Once a little away, I pull away from Mark’s gentle hold on me. He looks down at me, his expression unreadable.

“Are you alright?” he asks in a gruff voice.

I nod and crane my neck to look him in the eye. “I'm fine. Thank you, for...” I gesture vaguely, unsure how to put my gratitude into words.

He shrugs, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don't mention it. I couldn't let that slimeball put his hands on you.”

I arch an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. “Oh, so you were looking out for me, were you?”

Mark's eyes hold a glint of amusement as he looks down at me. “You think I'd let someone like him ruin my chance of having a stunning fiancée by my side?” His tone is teasing, but still, my heart races at the strange thought that he might be flirting with me.

I’m just imagining things, I tell myself.

There’s no chance he means it.

“Well, lucky for you, I can play the part of a devoted fake fiancée,” I retort, smirking at him.

The banter feels oddly comfortable, given the circumstances.

”But the show is over, and I’ve already taken up too much of your time.

”

I start to leave, but his strong hand grips my wrist and pulls me back.

I turn, my breath catching at the touch.

Mark leans in, his breath warm and heavy against my ear.

“We should move to another table and pretend we’re on a real date. Charlie might try to follow you home.”

I stiffen, my heart skipping a beat at the thought.

“You really think he'd do that?”

“I wouldn't put it past him. He's not used to being told no.”

I hesitate, weighing my options. On one hand, the idea of spending more time with Mark is strangely alluring, but at the same time, it also makes me nervous. I don’t know who he really is, and while he did help me, he’s also unbelievably arrogant. Do I want to be stuck with him for an extra hour or even more? On the other hand, the thought of Charlie stalking me home makes me very, very nervous.

“Alright,” I say and glance up at Mark with a resigned expression. “Lead the way.”

He takes my hand, his fingers lacing through mine as he guides me through the crowded bar. I can't help but notice the way people part for him. He doesn’t even know the effect he has on those around him.

We settle into a booth in the back corner, and the angles of his face appear even more pronounced in the shadows created by the dim lighting. “Comfortable?

” He leans back, one arm stretched along the top of the booth, his posture the epitome of casual arrogance.

Yet, his eyes are anything but relaxed.

They scan the crowd like a predator on the hunt, never quite settling.

“Sure,” I lie, crossing one leg over the other as I attempt to match his nonchalance.

My heart races, betraying the falsehood I’m trying to convey.

Our gazes meet for a moment, and I feel myself caught up in his, the seconds passing us by.

An electric charge fills the air, a push and pull that dances between us, daring either of us to make a move.

“Thanks for... again… you know,” I start, breaking the silence that had begun to throb with unspoken words, realizing I’m repeating myself.

“Playing your knight in shining armor?” he smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Something like that.” A reluctant smile tugs at my lips, even as I roll my eyes at his ego.

“Well, they say the third time’s a charm,” he says, now leaning forward, his hands interlaced on the table.

“Third time’s the charm?” I ask, confused.

“For you to thank me.” He gives me a wink.

Oh, so he noticed my little goof-up.

I blush and say nothing.

To my surprise, he catches on and changes the topic.

“So, what should we drink?”

“I wouldn’t mind a wine,” I say, twirling a strand of my hair around my finger for comfort, a habit I’ve had since I was a little girl.

He raises a hand and motions at the waiter.

“A bottle of…?” he questions, looking back at me.

“White, please.” I give him a smile.

“Bring me the 1996 Chapoutier Ermitage Blanc and some of those lovely salmon tarts,” he says, handing the waiter a bill as an advance tip.

Meanwhile, I’m still reeling from the fact that he ordered a bottle of wine without even glancing at the menu.

I quickly skim through it and quietly notice it costs five hundred dollars.

I choose to say nothing.

When the bill arrives, I’ll pay my share.

God knows I earn enough and rarely get to spend it.

After the adventure tonight has been, I might as well regard it as a night to remember.

“Of course, Sir,” the waiter says and wanders off.

“So,” he says, his voice low and rough.

“Tell me about yourself, Quinn. What made you decide to start a dating agency?”

I blink, taken aback by the question.

“I... I wanted to help people find love,” I say, my voice wavering slightly.

“I know how hard it can be to put yourself out there. To be vulnerable.”

He nods, his eyes never leaving mine.

“And have you? Found love, I mean.”

The question is so damn loaded and I wonder why he asked it.

It’s just curiosity, I assume.

It takes me by surprise and I find myself at a loss for words.

Just then, the waiter returns with the wine and pours us both glasses, giving me time to think.

He raises his glass and we cheer, before taking a sip.

”So?” he sets his glass down.

I swallow hard, my heart racing beneath my ribs.

“No,” I whisper. “I haven't.”

“Maybe you've been looking in the wrong places.” His gaze softens with kindness, an emotion I didn’t expect from him. It takes me by surprise, compelling me to speak the truth.

“If only I’d been looking, that is.”

”Oh?” he inquires.

”My work. It keeps me busy,” I shrug. “Never had much time to indulge in a love life.”

”Well,” he shrugs back. “It’s not too late. You’re young.”

I watch him closely and sip my wine. “I am,” I say, watching as the waiter lays down the salmon tart. Mark leans forward and puts one on my plate before serving myself. That’s when I notice the little grey on his stubble, the crinkles around his eyes.

He’s handsome, but definitely has a decade more in life experience.

”What about you?” I ask. “You’ve found love?”

”Trying to buy yourself a new client, are you?” He breaks into the most heartbreaking grin.

He leans back, laughter dancing in his eyes as I blush furiously at the thought of setting him up with someone else. For some reason, that idea seems odd.

”Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask,” I laugh, poking at the salmon tart on my plate. When I look up to meet his gaze, his eyes are locked right on me, as though he’s trying to see right through me.

”To answer your question,” he says as he looks at me intently, “I wasn’t lying earlier. I haven’t found the right woman.”

To my surprise, he reaches over and gently caresses the back of my hand. I look up in shock, trying to pull back, but he only holds on to it tighter and whispers through a smile. “Charlie’s watching.”

I keep my gaze on him, trusting him, and tilt my head, giving him the sweetest smile ever. “Thanks.”

He takes my hand to his lips, gives it a small kiss, before setting it down. My skin burns from the contact, and my heart races like a girl way in over her head.

This is all a show, Quinn, I tell myself. From the corner of my eye, I see Charlie head to the bar for another drink.

”He’s not looking anymore,” I say, and pull my hand away from him.

Mark frowns and leans forward to whisper conspiratorially. “You have no idea who you're dealing with, Quinn. Charlie's not just some wealthy client. He's dangerous.”

I lean forward, meeting his gaze head-on. “I know, but I can handle it.”

But he chooses to be unrelenting. “This line of work you do. It doesn’t seem safe.”

”My clients are perfect gentlemen, and I can handle myself,” I say, annoyed by this assumption he’s making. I’m running a matchmaking service, for god’s sake. Not peddling drugs!

”Ah, but you forget, I'm the one saving your pretty neck from Charlie's less-than-gentlemanly intentions.” His voice is low and teasing, yet there's steel underneath. “Surely, you can hire someone else to handle these meetings?”

Just then, Charlie wanders by the table, observing us from a distance.

”Tonight was a one-off and it doesn't give you the right to question how I run my business.” My hushed tone is sharp as a knife, even though it slices through a grin.

”Of course not,” he concedes with mock sincerity.

“You handle your affairs so... adeptly.”

”Mark.

” I glare at him, knowing this was an underhanded comment regarding the situation we find ourselves in now.

”Quinn.” He mirrors my tone, the corner of his mouth twitching.

The act is back on, and we're suddenly the picture-perfect couple to anyone looking our way. His hand finds mine across the table, his fingers intertwining with a possessive strength that sends a slow, delectable shiver down my spine.

“Smile, Darling,” he murmurs with a wink, as if we're sharing an intimate joke.

“Like this?” I bat my lashes exaggeratedly and flash an exaggerated fake smile, hoping it looks genuine from a distance.

”Perfect,” he deadpans.

“If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Next thing I know, you’ll be asking for a kiss,” I warn under my breath, aware of the eyes skimming over us.

“We only need people to think we're together, not that we're about to elope.”

“Wouldn't dream of either,” he jokes back.

I roll my eyes and glance around the room, only to see Charlie turning his back on us. I can tell he’s getting ready to leave. He hands the waiter some bills, shoots us one last angry look, and walks out of the bar, slamming the door shut behind him.

Mark’s hand, however, still lingers on mine. I turn to face him and find him fixated on my face.

“He’s gone,” I say.

”What?” he asks, as though he were lost in some thought.

“Charlie. He’s gone,” I say again.

He nods, his eyes clearing, and slowly pulls back his hand before reaching for the wine.

There are a few brief seconds of silence between us, creating a lingering tension.

“I think we should ask for the check,” I finally say, realizing there’s no reason for us to continue sitting here together.

”The night doesn’t have to end quite yet,” he suggests slowly, testing the waters.

I tense, my mind racing as I try to figure out his angle. Is he simply bored? Or is it something more?

The idea of something more seems unimaginable. He and I? We have nothing in common. Besides, tonight was an accident, and despite the sparks I likely imagined we felt, this isn’t going to lead anywhere.

Not after what Charlie said—that he’s a love-them-and-leave-them kind of a guy.

“I have an early day tomorrow,” I finally say, even though a wave of disappointment washes over me. Why the hell do I feel like sticking around? The wine has probably gone to my head.

”Of course,” he says, acceding and calling for the check. I reach for my wallet to take out my share, but I feel a sturdy hand over my shoulder.

“I insist,” he says, his eyes blazing fiercely. I try again, but he shakes his head in warning.

I put away my wallet with a nod. “Thank you,” I say softly.

”Anytime,” he says, turning to get the check.

Once done, we both stand. I turn to walk away, only to find him by my side.

“It’s alright,” I say. “I’ve got it from here.”

“I’d rather see you to a cab,” he insists.

I nod, trying to ignore the flicker of what appears to be concern in his stormy blue-gray eyes. We walk side by side toward the door. He holds it open for me, letting me pass.

To my relief, there’s a line of cabs outside without much of a wait.

I turn to him. “So I guess it’s goodbye then,” I say with a smile.

“I guess it is,” he says, and walks me to the cab.

”Can't believe I owe you one,” I mutter as a parting joke, reaching for the handle of the backseat of the cab.

“Just so you know, this doesn't mean I'm signing up for your protection services or anything.”

”Of course not,” he scoffs, taking over and holding the door open with an exaggerated flourish as if I were royalty.

“But let's be honest, Quinn, you're not exactly cut out for handling this stuff.”

”Excuse me?

” I stop in my tracks.

“Just what kind of stuff do you think I deal with? I run a successful business, thank you very much, and I’ve been doing it for two years now. I really don’t need any more of your advice or judgment.”

He smiles in a way that annoys me even more, but his eyes are soft, as if he’s enjoying every moment with me, even in the middle of a god damn argument.

“I never doubted your business acumen, Quinn. I was referring to the dangerous situations it might land you in.”

”There’s nothing dangerous about a matchmaking service, for the love of God!

I help people find love; that’s all!

” I say, somewhat annoyed.

I brush past him and hop into the cab, gripping the door.

“As I said earlier, tonight was a one-off and I host my meetings in public places for a reason. Stop making up the worst-case scenarios in your head based on the only snapshot you’ve witnessed!”

And with that, I slam the cab door shut and ask my driver to take me back home.

Just when I thought he could be redeemable, that arrogant judgment had to show up all over again!

Well… good riddance.