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I open my mouth. “I’m not sure if—”
“Thank you! Ciao!” Ciara hangs up before I can let her down. It’s always a tricky thing to do, but I’ve learned to do it with tact, reminding clients that not every connection is a hit on both sides.
Now I’ll have to write her an email.
But first, I type Winter Hotels into the search bar of my computer. Contrary to our normal clients, I have nearly no information on Anthony Winter.
Pictures of a familiar sky-rise emerges. It’s one I’ve walked past multiple times in New York, a proud staple of Park Avenue. With over a century of history, the hotel is a veritable New York landmark. An institution.
He’s not just any old season. He’s a Winter.
Which means Anthony is as old money elite as they come. He hadn’t spoken out of ignorance or dislike when he derided our clients for being elitist or status-seeking.
He’d been speaking from experience.
I lean back in my chair and stare at the imposing image of the Winter Hotel, a pre-war building on Manhattan’s most expensive address. So I have to set him up with someone… well. He’d want someonenotof that world, judging by his comments.
But I’ve learned a thing or two about what peoplethinkthey want, and what they actually do.
They’re rarely the same thing.
Anthony needs someone he can take home to that old money family of his, but not someone who takes it too seriously. Someone with one foot in and one foot out. A woman who appreciates his sarcastic sense of humor and can draw him out of his shell. A woman comfortable with money and prestige without placing undo value on it.
In short, he needs a female client we don’t currently have at Opate. How am I going to pull this off?
Ace rises from his sprawl half an hour later and heads to my closed office door. Three sharp knocks sound a few seconds later.
“Come in!”
Ace’s tail wags softly as Anthony Winter takes a step inside. He looks down at my dog, a frown on his face.
“He’s always here, isn’t he?”
I turn away from my computer. “He’s good for business.”
Anthony doesn’t comment, but he runs a hand over Ace’s head, his fingers smoothing over one of the floppy ears. “A matchmaking company with a mascot,” he mutters.
I straighten in my chair. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes,” he says. “I came by to speak with your aunt and wanted to ask you about the bet. Do you have someone ready to accompany me on Friday evening?
I meet the solid, dark gaze across the room. What did I agree to? Finding a woman this man will approve of is impossible.
“Soon,” I lie. “I think I’ve found the perfect woman for you.”
His lips tug. “Right.”
“I’d also like to apologize for Ciara. I admit that you were right about her not being a good fit for you. I’ve noted it down as another data point, and your next date will be much better.”
This time, he has to look away to hide a smirk. “Well, I’m glad you acknowledge that I can make my own decisions about partners.”
Damn. I make my smile wide and serviceable. “You certainly can, Mr. Winter. All I ask is that you keep an open mind.”
“I will,” he says. “You’ll send me details regarding whoever you choose?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” Anthony returns to my office door, his gaze on Ace. “I’m looking forward to seeing how this bet ends, Miss Davis.”
