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“Well, that’s something, I suppose.”
His gaze returns to mine. “Tell me more about your business structure, Miss Davis. I’d like to hear it from you.”
From me?
But I clear my throat and dive into an explanation of Opate Match, detailing clauses and structures he’s doubtlessly already aware of. Things he knows, or he wouldn’t have bought the business.
But Anthony just listens, occasionally tapping his fingers along the edge of his armrest. “At the moment, Opate is limited to the East Coast. New York specifically, even if you get a fair amount of clients who are just traveling through. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about expanding internationally?”
My eyebrows rise. “Internationally?”
“People paying this amount of money for prestige matchmaking services like the idea of exclusivity. Traveling around the world for a date with a similarly-minded person… well, that might only add to the appeal.”
“Yes, well, it might not make for lasting relationships.”
The look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t see that as a problem. “Ryan is a coder and programmer.”
“Oh.”
“He’ll start working on a prototype app.”
My hands drop into my lap. He sees it, another eyebrow rising. Almost as if he’s intrigued against his best wishes. “You don’t approve?”
“I can’t say I do, no.”
“Why not?”
“Our strength is our personal service,” I say. “We provide something you can’t get anywhere else. Weknowthe people who come to us, so we can actually set them up with people they have a chance of succeeding with. If we let people decide that themselves on the basis of self-generated profiles, all that swiping… Our success rates would plummet.”
“It would allow you to expand.”
“But at what cost?” I shake my head, but soften the gesture with a sunny smile. “If you’re asking for my opinion, that’s it. The personal touch makes Opate Match.”
He taps his fingers against the armrest again. “Right.”
“‘I know you don’t believe in it. Our services, I mean, or that people come here with good intentions.” I shrug. “Judging from our conversation yesterday, I mean. You’re very cynical, Mr. Winter.”
Both of his eyebrows rise at that. If there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, it’s there and gone so fast I can’t register it. “Cynical, Miss Davis?”
“I know the majority of our clients believe in love. They’re here filled with hope, and nerves, ready to try something new. The ones who open themselves up to the process are usually the ones most likely to succeed.”
“Right.” There’s a world of skepticism in that single word. It fills my office, multiplying and expanding.
A determined dog shoves the half-closed door open. Ace trots in and sits down on his haunches next to Anthony, his gaze fixed on the man’s face.
Anthony looks from me to the dog. “You have pets here.”
“That’s Ace. He’s great at getting clients to relax, actually. More than one nervous person has sat in here with their hand in his fur as they tell me about themselves.”
Anthony’s gaze turns from me to my dog, as if he’s doubting this. Ace keeps looking at him.
I can’t help but smile. “He’s waiting for a hello.”
“Hello,” Anthony says. But then he relents, reaching out and resting a large hand on the top of Ace’s head. His fingers sink into the golden fur and the telltale sound of Ace’s tail against the floor picks up.You brilliant traitor,I think. He has always had a knack for figuring out when someone needs a bit of canine distraction or comfort, another of the skills he’d kept from his guide dog training days.
