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I close the door behind me and meet Anthony’s gaze. Across the room, in his suit, it’s like the other night never happened. Like I never stole pizza from him because I’d ordered too few slices for myself.
His fingers drum against the table. Dark stubble traces the sharp line of his jaw, and I wonder what it would feel like beneath my fingers.
“Our changes are outlined in the document. We’ve taken your request for personalization into account.”
Vivienne pushes a copy over to me and startshummingas she reads through it. I try to focus on the paper in front of me.
“A dating app,” I murmur, reading. “Singles parties in cities around the world?”
“You’re skeptical,” Anthony says.
“No, she’s not,” Vivienne interjects. “My niece is protective of the business, and to tell you the truth, so am I.”
“As you have every right to be,” Anthony says. “You’ve built this on your own, and you know it best.”
She nods. “Yes, and I understand the need for growth and expansion. But what makes us work is that we put clients together based on what they want, not what theythinkthey want.”
I smile down at the table. I’d told Anthony the exact same thing.
“Given complete free choice, most people will be far more selective on dating apps than they would be if they met the same person in real life. They don’t like her hair? It’s a no. His eyes aren’t the blue you’d always envisioned? It’s a no.” Vivienne gives an elegant sigh and crosses her legs. I’ve never looked up to her more than I do right then, as she pushes the paper with suggestions across the table to Anthony. It’s a clear rejection to the man who owns a fifty-one percent stake. “I’m not against digitalization or expansion, but we need to ensure there’s still an element of exclusivity and control. One where we might pair you up with someone. If not, our success rates will drop, and with them, our profits.”
Anthony’s jaw works as he flips the paper over. Jots down a few notes. “I understand,” he says. “You have a lot of experience in this field. How do you think we could digitalize while keeping the personal touch?”
It’s over thirty minutes later when our brainstorming session ends. I’ve caught Anthony rubbing his temples twice, resting his chin in his hand. There are rings beneath his eyes that speak of sleepless nights.
“I’ll take this back to our development team,” he finally says. “Thank you for your input, Vivienne.”
With the meeting finished, Vivienne thanks Anthony for his time and then turns back to her computer in a clear dismissal. I catch the wry twist of his lips at that. She might only own forty-nine percent of the business, but she won’t let anyone forget who started it.
Suzy isn’t in the reception when we come back out. I cross the space to my office and push my door open. “Want to come in?”
Anthony nods. I leave the door ajar, with another glance to where my aunt has shut hers.
I clear my throat. “I wanted to say thank you for the other night.”
“You’re the one who did me a favor,” he says. Sinks into the chair opposite my desk, a hand at his temple. Ace rises from his usual sprawl to say hello and leans his head against Anthony’s knee.
“You mean I stepped in as a replacement,” I say. “Anyway, the dresses, the car, the pizza… Thanks. I had a great time.”
“All for the rainforest,” he says.
“That’s right. Your business partners seemed nice.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Nice, yes. The two you met are nice.”
“The fourth isn’t?”
“Not particularly, no.” Anthony shifts his gaze back to mine. “Summer, I wanted to say—”
Suzy sticks her head into my office and announces in a sing-songy voice, “the delivery guy will be here soon!” Then she notices Anthony and gives us both a chagrined look. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Winter. Didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting.”
“That’s not a problem.”
She ducks out, leaving the door ajar.
Anthony looks down at his hand, curled around the armrest. “The delivery guy?”
“Oh. That’s nothing, really. She’s just… well. The delivery guy who comes each week asked me out a few days ago. I said no, of course. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
