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If I’m not mistaken (and I rarely am), the man I’m meeting today belongs to that second category. His reputation as a hedge fund manager precedes him, and the same can be said of his sexual escapades. Whenever you talk about Malcolm Bane, you also end up talking about money and sex—and that in the same breath.
“Your eleven o’clock is here,” my assistant tells me through the intercom. Leaning forward in my chair, I press the red button blinking there.
“Make him wait a couple of minutes and then send him in,” I say, even though I’m not doing anything right now. The first rule when dealing with men like Malcolm Bane is that you have to make them wait. And that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
I lean back on my chair, take a deep breath and drum my fingertips against the surface of my desk. Sun is streaming through the open blinders, flooding the spacious roo
m with its warm light, and I stretch lazily as I ready myself mentally for the meeting.
I take another deep breath and that’s when I hear a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I say, and then the door swings open to reveal one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve already seen pictures of Malcolm before, but he looks so much better in the flesh. If the Gods ever walked the Earth, I doubt they looked as handsome as this.
With a perfectly symmetrical face, his jaw seems to have been chiseled in stone. And the same can be said of his body—standing at least a head taller than me, his dark suit clings to his body like a second skin, hinting at a rock-hard layer of muscles hiding under the fabric. And his eyes … piercing and smart, they’re the kind of eyes than can make a woman grow weak in the knees.
“Welcome. I’m Athena Hawke,” I say, pushing my chair back and going up to my feet as I introduce myself. I offer him my hand and, closing the distance between us, he takes it in his.
“Malcolm Bane. Nice to meet you,” he replies, looking into my eyes and allowing his gaze to wander around the room, one of his eyebrows cocked. The décor in my office is minimalist and sleek, a warm and bright white coating the walls, just like the tight blue dress I’m wearing right now, and everything in this room was designed to appeal to the senses.
First impressions are important, right? Especially when you’re dealing with love and seduction. That’s why, when choosing an office for me, I settled on one that was both intimate and intimidating at the same time. Small and comfortable, but still big enough to tell everyone I’m meeting that in here, I’m the one in charge. “So, I’ve heard you’re quite the miracle maker,” Malcolm says as he sits down in the chair facing my desk, putting an end to the first niceties that are inevitable in meetings of this kind.
“When it comes to love, yes, that’s right. That’s what you want to find, right? Love,” I ask him, locking eyes with him and showing him the hint of a smile.
“Well, I had already given up on finding a woman I could love. But then I heard about you and your miracles … and, well, here I am,” he replies, but his tone is so confident that I can’t help but feel doubt stirring inside of me: did he really come here looking for love? Or is he after the guarantee I provide to all of my clients? If I can’t deliver on my promises, they receive a hefty payment. That's never happened, of course, and it won’t be Malcolm who’ll change that.
In truth, the payment has gotten larger and larger as each person who comes through the doors has found love. Nowadays, people come based on the payout itself - but they all leave with love.
“You came to the right place,” I say, allowing the grin on my face to fade slowly, letting him know that I don’t take the promises I make to my clients lightly.
“I want to sign up for 100 Days,” Malcolm says, looking me in the eyes. “I don’t think I’m going to fall in love and I have $100 million to prove it.”
“You come in here looking for love, you’ll find it, but I’ll take your money to convince you, Malcolm. Now,” I open one of the drawers under my desk and take one the questionnaires I have there, “please fill out this questionnaire and be as detailed as you can. The more details you give us, the easier it’ll be for us to find you a match.”
“Details, uh…” he mutters, taking the sheet of paper out of my hands and allowing his eyes to wander over the questions on the page. “Lots of questions in here,” he raises his eyes to meet mine, clearly not impressed with having to put in the work.
“That’s how it works. We have to get to know you before we can find you a match.”
“And are you sure you can do that?” he asks, raising his eyes from the page and looking straight at me with an expression that screams I doubt you can pull it off.
“Of course,” I reply, looking back at him, but there’s an insidious whisper inside of me that tells me that Malcolm is going to be a problematic one. Hotter than Hell’s cauldron itself, he’s more experienced with the opposite sex than most men that walk inside my office. He seems like the type of man who doesn’t really believe in love, and you can trust me when I tell you that I know the type. I fell for a man just like him before, and I’ll never make that mistake again.
“So, how does this work…?” he asks me, folding the questionnaire in half and placing it inside his jacket.
“You make the buy-in and then, according to your profile, we’ll arrange a few dates for you. Eventually, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“What if I don’t?”
“In that case, you’ll be entitled to $4 billion. It’s all in the contract you’ll sign.”
“That seems like a risky proposition … for you,” he says, lowering his voice and leaning slightly forward, his eyes never leaving mine. I mimic him, leaning toward him as well, and I notice his eyes being drawn by my lips.
“I never fail, Mr. Bane. Ever,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes as I feel the pressure in the room grow and grow, almost as if the air around us has become heavier.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we…?” he says, his voice so low that his words are barely a whisper. Leaning back, I notice his gaze hiking down to my cleavage, and he’s completely shameless about it.
“We’ll see about that,” I repeat after him, my heart suddenly picking up the pace.
Suddenly, I’m not so sure about this whole thing.
