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“Fuck,” I mutter to myself. She’s the fourth woman that I’ve proposed to in the last twenty four hours and the only one remaining on my list of ex-girlfriends. Well, maybe not girlfriends. Hookups that I considered cool and levelheaded enough to even listen to my offer.
My brow furrows in frustration. I don’t understand why she would be so upset. I offered her half a million dollars in exchange for a quickie marriage and caring for my baby. I didn’t even get to the point where I explained that I could wire her half now and half upon the successful arrival of our child.
I fish my phone out of my suit pocket and send a text.
Come inside.
Not thirty seconds later, a small, balding man with a stylish sweater and tasteful dark gray corduroy pants appears. He looks around dramatically and arches a brow at me. "Did she leave, then?"
I frown and wave my hand at where she was sitting. "Sit down, Rob. And yes, she obviously left."
My personal assistant sits down carefully, crossing his legs, and places an electronic tablet on the table in front of him. He’s been waiting outside in my chauffeured SUV, right where I told him to be in case things went south with my proposal.
"I really thought that she would go for it." He looks a little perplexed. "With your money and good looks, you should be able to pull in any wife that you want. No matter what you’re offering,” he pauses; something obviously occurring to him. “How are you proposing the deal, exactly?"
I roll my neck again and grit my teeth. "Rob, shut up. I didn’t ask you to come here to give me dating advice or tell me how I should propose marriage."
"No?" He makes a face. "What do you need, then?"
"I want you to call a matchmaker. Not just any matchmaker. Find out who the best of the best is and hire them to bring me candidates right away. Make sure that the women are told that I want certain things: I want to marry right away, and I want kids as fast as possible. Not only that, but each woman needs to be the perfect candidate."
Rob pushes his cheek out with his tongue. He gives me a long look and opens the screen of his tablet, grabbing his pen to jot down notes.
"Okay, so what makes for a good candidate, in your mind?"
I wave a hand. "Oh, you know…"
"No, I don’t think I do know. What about Marilyn Jones?"
"The influencer?" I puff out my cheeks. "I don’t know. She’s very new age-y. And even though she looks good in photos, in real life she is very shy. Painfully so."
Rob makes a note. "So not painfully shy should be one of the requirements?"
I shrug. "I don’t feel good about Marilyn. Besides, I’ve never met her family. Who knows what kind of genetic pool she comes from? I wouldn’t want her to pop out a baby and the baby to take after Uncle Frank, who is bald and fat."
He looks at me for a long moment. "No fat babies," he adds to the list. "Okay. What about Marcia Shaw?"
My eyes squint off into the distance as I try to place the name. "Who is she again?"
Rob pulls out his phone and scrolls for half a minute. As soon as he shows me a picture, I wave the possibility off. "No. She’s the girl who got drunk every time I took her anywhere. I don’t want that. That's not exactly motherly material."
Rob purses his lips and gives me a funny gaze. "Never gets drunk," he murmurs. “Got it. So, can you give me a list of appropriate qualities, then?"
"That’s easy," I say. Steepling my hands, I consider the question. "I want someone who is born into an upper-class lifestyle. Someone who will not stand out but is still extremely good-looking. She’ll have a big family, so I know that she is fertile. I’ll have to have a good picture of her mother so I know who I will be marrying in twenty or thirty years. She’ll have to be willing to sign a prenup, and she’ll have to want to have at least one kid. Make that two kids," I squinted.
"Right." Rob scribbles a quick list.
"What, do you have a problem with my list?"
"No. I just wonder if a girl like this exists in reality. For a girl to have literally all these qualities... It just seems like she would really have to want your money to say yes to your proposal."
I dismiss his concerns with a wave of my hand.
"I'm not asking for too much, especially not for what I would offer and return. When I gain control of the company, she will automatically become one of the wealthiest wives on the planet. That’s not really anything to sneeze at."
"I just think you might be a little bit off base. If you gave up any of these characteristics, I'm sure there would be plenty of women lining up to be your wife. But this is a pretty specific list."
I give him a thin-lipped smile.
