Nine
“Yo, Ian,” came the seemingly distant sound of Pete’s voice.
Ian was at his desk, completely in the zone as he hammered out the first draft of a story on a trio of federal circuit judges who had been taking bribes from a consortium of banks that were embroiled in lawsuits for a whole host of unethical business practices.
Ian had been working on the story for months and finally had all the pieces of the puzzle in place.
The day before, he had received word from a confidential FBI source that the Bureau’s cyber forensics team had just discovered the mother lode – offshore bank accounts with digital fingerprints leading back to the consortium and all three judges.
Ian was the only reporter privy to this scoop, and he knew the story was going to blow the fuckin’ roof off the New York judicial and financial sectors when it hit the proverbial newsstand the following week. He could not wait to count the number of heads that would be rolling in the aftermath.
But first, he needed to craft the perfect narrative, so the story would be a thrilling read from beginning to end, with all the salacious elements of a pulp fiction crime novel – mood, suspense, heroes and villains. The kind of story a reader could not put down until she had read every… juicy… word.
Suffice it to say, the great Ian King was definitely getting his groove back!
Ian finished typing a cliffhanger of a paragraph about secret meetings at a members-only hunting lodge in Montana. Then he looked up to give Pete his full attention.
Pete stared at Ian’s laptop with a lopsided grin. “Man, I can’t wait to read what you just wrote.”
Ian’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, it’s good.” He leaned back in his chair. “So what’s up?”
“I thought you might be interested in this. A media advisory just came through that Brad Maylis will be speaking at a press conference at the Hudson Children’s Hospital tomorrow morning.”
“Mmm,” Ian uttered, pursing his lips. “I could definitely use a direct quote from him for the matchmaker story. Good call. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Also, the woman you wanted me to recon and secretly interview, her name is Ella Pruitt. She doesn’t have much of a routine beyond taking the train to work the same time every morning. So I plan to strike up a conversation with her on the train, pretending I’m relatively new to the city and looking for advice on the best way to meet people, specifically women, to date.”
“Sounds good. Keep me posted.”
“Oh and fun fact of the day, I did some digging online and, turns out, Ella is a gamer chick.”
“Gamer chick? As in video games?”
Pete nodded. “She’s crazy good. Goes by the handle, ENess29. And she’s a huge fan of Assassins 9, the game her boyfriend works on.”
“Elliot Ness, catchy.”
“1929 was the year Ness formed The Untouchables.”
“Demure attorney by day. Virtual assassin by night,” Ian said with a chuckle. “This is our bread ‘n butter, Pete… the fact that there’s always more to a person than meets the eye.”
The next day, Ian strolled into a corporate auditorium decorated with mood lighting and a half dozen rows of long, curved tabletops accented with plush leather office chairs. The tiered rows gazed down upon a sunken stage that was bare save for a podium and three leather armchairs spread evenly apart.
A handful of reporters milled about the room. Some were seated in a plush leather chair, munching on one of the pastries that were on hand to put them in a better mood. Others had elected to stand against the wall instead – which allowed for a speedier exit.
Ian’s gaze fell on the opposite wall where Vikki stood wearing a white pencil skirt and a teal top with a Mandarin collar, looking as sexy and high-maintenance as ever.
She was typing away on her phone, oblivious to the TV sports reporter nearby who desperately wanted to catch her eye… then her phone number.
Ian made his way over.
“Well, Mr. King, ” Vikki said upon his approach. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were following me.”
“I could say the same to you, Helena,” he replied, leaning his back against the wall. Ian was certain the sports reporter was secretly wishing he would get lost right about now.
“Poor Peggy Langdon,” Vikki said.
“Who’s Peggy Langdon?”
Vikki nodded at the stage. Ian followed her line of sight to a woman who had the unmistakable preppiness and peppiness of a public relations director.
“She turned white as a ghost the moment you entered the room.”
Ian chuckled. “She looks perfectly zen to me.”
“You see the guy she’s talking to? He’s the hospital’s COO. I’d hazard she’s alerting him to your presence. Because, if Ian King pops into a company’s press conference, that means something rotten must be afoot.”
Ian had not considered that he, a Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalist, would stand out like a rhinoceros in a china shop during an innocuous press conference about a citywide baseball tournament to raise money for children battling cancer.
“I doubt she knows who I am.”
“Every PR director in New York who’s worth their salt and paycheck knows exactly who you are. And they pray they’ll never have the displeasure of meeting you.”
“The displeasure, huh?”
“Mm-hmm,” Vikki replied, quite pleased with her pun.
Ian smiled. If that were true then, on the one hand, he relished that his reputation preceded him in the halls of corporate America. On the other hand, he would have to utilize Pete as his information-gathering wingman more and more in the future.
“Excuse me, Mr. King,” came the sound of a woman’s voice.
Ian turned his head to find Peggy Langdon standing next to him.
“Mind if I speak with you for a moment?” she asked.
“Sure thing,” he replied.
As he straightened his posture to follow Peggy Langdon to theassistant principal’s office, he glanced over his shoulder at Vikki, who pursed her lips in the universal expression for:
Told you so.
Moments later, Ian re-entered the auditorium, having reassured the nervous Mrs. Langdon that he was simply there to ask a question of Brad Maylis. Nothing more.
The press conference was in full swing and, for the next ten minutes or so, Ian and every reporter in the room tuned out the ego-parade of one C-suite executive’s boring speech after another; each more boring than the last.
Ian filled the void with thoughts of how he desperately needed to clean his room and do some damned laundry.
Then, for the first time ever, he considered that it was probably long past time he removed the darts and Meaghan’s headshot from the back of his bedroom door.
Then his mind shifted to how much he had enjoyed running in the park with Chloe by his side. He had learned quite a bit about her during their time together, including the fact that she was an only child and, when her parents divorced, her dad ended up buying a house two streets over so she could spend half of each week with him and the other half at her mom’s.
And, as they had dined on mouthwatering stacks of Lola’s award-winning, tropical pancakes, Ian also discovered that, in the years since the divorce, Chloe had successfully matched both her parents up with their respective soulmates.
When Brad Maylis finally walked onto the stage, the cloud of boredom lifted and every reporter, photographer and cameraman came to attention.
Maylis sat in one of the armchairs and gave a heartfelt speech about why eradicating childhood cancer was a cause close to his heart. Then he opened it up for questions.
“So how was the honeymoon?” Vikki asked before anyone else had even taken a breath.
Brad chuckled. “Let’s just say it was hard, very hard, for me to come back. And y’all know how much I love baseball.”
The room hummed with chuckles.
“Is it true you used a matchmaker?” Ian chimed in. “And if so, how did that all come about?”
Brad shook his head. “Man, I thought for sure once I got married, I wouldn’t get any more questions about my love life. But to answer your question…” he leaned forward and looked Ian square in the eye. “Yes, it’s true I hired a matchmaker. All I’ll say is, calling her was the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.”
The room rumbled to life as other reporters pitched baseball questions Maylis’s way.
Ian turned his head and noticed Vikki was eyeing him with bridled curiosity. He leaned close to her ear, briefly lulled by the sweet and expensive dulcet of her perfume.
“No offense to your stellar reporting skills,” he whispered. “I just wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth myself.”
Vikki’s gaze connected with his. “Trust but verify, eh?”
A slow grin spread across his lips. “Always, Helena. Always.”
Chloe slowly awoke to the warm rays of a brand new day.
It was Sunday, brunch day, and her first course of action was to peek into Jenna’s bedroom to ensure she was still fast asleep.
Jenna rarely rose before noon on weekends, which was a blessing in disguise as Chloe could forego having to dodge any questions as to where she was going and with whom.
Satisfied that Jenna was fully in the throes of REM, Chloe tip-toed back to her room and started getting ready for her brunch not-date with Alexander. She put on a peach dress with sheer, billowy sleeves that tapered to a delicate cuff around her wrists; a pair of pearldrop earrings; and practical ballet flats.
She wore her hair down, as she normally did, and applied nothing more than a raspberry gloss to her lips.
She was in the dark as to where they would be brunching, but she knew Alexander had a penchant for eating outdoors whenever possible, so she had dressed accordingly.
He also had a penchant for arriving early; so ten minutes before ten, she made her way down to the stoop of her building, holding a purse in one hand and a shawl in the other.
Date or no date, Alexander was old-fashioned and a gentleman. She knew that, upon arrival, he would have rung the doorbell to her apartment. And the last thing she needed was Jenna waking up to the sound of door chimes. So she was pre-empting all of that by standing outside instead.
Moments later, she watched as a vintage convertible turned onto her street. The top was down and Alexander’s perfectly coiffed hair flirted with the breeze as he slowed to a stop in front of her.
He glided out of the car and greeted her with that movie star smile of his. “I’m not late am I?”
“No. Jenna’s asleep and I didn’t want the doorbell to wake her. Plus, it’s so nice out today.”
Alexander was dressed dapper-casual in a blue-grey summer knit top with the sleeves rolled up mid-arm; paired with crisp, white trousers and grey-suede loafers.
“You look beautiful as always,” he said, giving her a kiss to the cheek.
“And you are complimentary as always.”
“I never give a compliment unless it comes straight from the heart,” he said, his eyes connecting with hers.
Most women would have swooned at that, but Chloe knew this was just Alexander’s way. He had a genetic trifecta of looks, voice and charm that made even the mundane sound swoon-worthy.
“Chloe, allow me to introduce you to Bertie, the love of my life,” he said, opening the passenger side door for her.
“Ah, and is it a requited love?”
“Every time I ask her how she feels about me, all she does is hum in reply.”
Chloe laughed as she settled into a soft leather seat that was as cozy as a warm hug. Alexander rounded the car, glided back into the driver’s seat and turned to face her.
“Top up or down?”
“Definitely down,” she said, knowing full well it would wreck havoc on her hair, but not caring in the least.
“And, on a scale of one to ten, how hungry are you?” he asked.
“I had a bowl of cereal earlier, so I’d say I’m about a four right now.”
Alexander shifted Bertie into gear and she purred as they pulled onto the street.
“Where are we headed?” Chloe asked.
“Greenwich.”
“The Village? So, in other words, we’re going to spend half an hour looking for parking.”
He chuckled. “Firstly, I would never be so cruel as to park my dear, sweet, sensitive Bertie on the street.”
“Oh gawd,” she said with a roll of the eyes.
“Secondly, we’re going to the other Greenwich.”
Chloe furrowed her brow. “In Connecticut?”
Alexander nodded.
“That’s like an hour away.”
“That’s the great thing about Bertie,” he said with a grin as he shifted to a higher gear. “She’ll get us there in half the time.”
Twenty-five minutes and no speeding tickets later, Bertie rounded the circular driveway of a seaside restaurant that looked like it had teleported in from the south of France.
Alexander left Bertie in the care of a seasoned valet and escorted Chloe into the restaurant’s foyer, which was abuzz with couples, families and brunch buddies, all in wait and want of the next free table.
“Good morning, Frederick,” Alexander said, having committed the maitre’d’s name to memory, as was his way.
Frederick’s face lit up. “Alexander, good to see you again.” His eyes shifted to Chloe. “And who is this?”
“This is Chloe.”
“Mademoiselle,” Frederick said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Please, let me show you to your table.”
They followed him though the restaurant to the semi-secluded nook of an expansive, outdoor patio with sweeping views of the marina – where alabaster yachts bobbed like gulls upon the sea.
The day was warm, with just enough breeze to keep everyone comfortable and in high spirits.
They proceeded to order that which caught their fancy on the menu, alongside a bottle of Madeira rosé.
“My mother says hi, by the way,” Alexander said when the waiter left them alone with a ramekin of housemade, herbal butter and a basket of fresh croissants.
“Oh, how’s Evelyn doing?” she asked, touched that his mother still remembered who she was. They had met on two occasions and Chloe had found her to be as posh as she was lovely, the product of an Upper West Side upbringing paired with years spent working in the Peace Corps and for the United Nations. Evidently, Evelyn had a gift for remembering names and faces, just like her son.
“She’s good. She’s currently obsessed with urban farming,” he said with a prolonged sigh. “And you know how she gets when she’s obsessed. Right now, I have more fruits and vegetables in my fridge than I know what to do with.”
Chloe laughed. “That’s rich seeing how you’re always traveling.”
“She has a fresh batch delivered the moment I get back in town, even if I’m only here for a few days at a time.”
“She just wants you to grow up to be a big, strong boy,” Chloe teased.
Alexander chuckled softly as he took a sip of rosé.
“So are you still loving this jet-setting lifestyle of yours?” she asked.
“Some days, yes. Other days I think to myself, why am I paying so much for an apartment I’m hardly ever in. Once I made partner, I was hoping I’d be able to command a bit more balance in my life, but so far I’ve been swamped putting out one international fire after another.”
Chloe frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Luckily, knock on wood, I think things are starting to calm down a bit, so maybe I’ll get my wish in a month or so.”
“When do you fly out next?”
“Wednesday to Buenos Aires, then Berlin, then back to Hong Kong.”
Chloe sighed as she gazed up at the big blue sky. “I envy you and I don’t envy you.”
Alexander’s eyes smiled. He leaned back in his chair, fully relaxed as though he were on siesta on the shores of the Mediterranean.
“So tell me about this consultancy of yours,” he said. “I’m glad to see it’s going well.”
“How can you tell,” she asked, meeting his gaze.
“Because you’re happy.”
Chloe considered that for a moment, then a serene grin spread across her face. “Yeah, I am.”
As his question continued to hang in the air, Chloe was at a crossroads as to how she wanted to answer.
Alexander was the colleague she had been closest to during her time at Werner + Ball. The work buddy in whom she had confided her trials and her triumphs when it came to clients, bosses and everyone in between.
But in spite of this, she had never shared her secret with him. Or with anyone at work for that matter. Taking a cue from a World War II propaganda poster that hung on the wall of her grandfather’s study – ‘Loose Lips Sink Ships’ – she had always kept a distinct demarcation line between work and personal, to keep the latter from negatively affecting her success and reputation with the former.
For she knew everyone was as not as open-minded about gifted matchmakers as her soulmate-seeking clients were.
Back before she had decided to quit her job and devote herself to matchmaking full-time, she feared and knew in her bones that if certain colleagues, clients and higher-ups found out she was moonlighting as a matchmaker for hire, they would question her credibility; or her mental acuity; or her dedication to the job.
It was hard enough being a woman in corporate America. She thought it best not to add more fuel to the fire.
She was not sure why she had never shared her secret with Alexander. It was not due to a lack of trust on her part. Alexander was an upstanding guy; the kind of guy who would take a friend’s secrets to his grave.
Yet, even during her final days at Werner, she still had not confided in him about her real reason for leaving. Saying only that she was planning to do some boutique consulting work; giving him and everyone else at the company the unspoken impression that she would be working with business clients… not people in search of true love.
She supposed she had done so out of habit. And also out of a strategic fear that if her foray into full-time entrepreneurship did not go as well as she hoped, she could return to the world of corporate consulting, her stalwart reputation still intact.
Now here she was, three years later. Business was going quite well and, gods willing, she had no intention of returning to corporate America. Yet, inexplicably, a part of her was still reticent to share her secret with Alexander.
She decided it would be best to take baby steps; to first gauge his appetite for the abstruse.
“Do you believe in Fate?” she asked, her heart beating faster than normal.
“I do,” he said without hesitation, his gaze unwavering.
Chloe blinked, she had not expected him to answer so quickly or so confidently.
“Case in point…” he continued. “Us sitting here right now. We haven’t seen or talked to each other for years, then we cross paths on a random street, on a random day, under circumstances that will never repeat themselves during our lifetimes.”
“You think that was Fate?”
“I do.”
Given his sentiment, Chloe was surprised the topic of Fate and Destiny had never come up during one of their lunches.
“Have you always believed in Fate?” she asked. “Or is this a new POV for you?”
He mulled it over for a moment. “I think I’ve come to believe in it more as I’ve gotten older. When I look back over my life thus far, I can see how all these little pieces and experiences have fallen perfectly into place. Order amidst the everyday chaos and uncertainty of life.”
Chloe looked down at her hands and cleared her throat.
“Do you think the weavings of Fate apply to love as well? Romantic love I mean.”
“Are you asking if I think Fate dictates who we fall in love with?”
“Yes.”
He studied her for a moment. “What do you think?” he asked, volleying the question back to her, his curiosity piqued.
Chloe smoothed a few strands of hair behind her ear as her heart quickened its nervous pace once more.
“I believe that, in the weavings of Fate, soulmates are inextricably linked to one another and they are destined to cross paths at least once in their lifetimes, sometimes without realizing it.”
“I see,” he said, his face unreadable. She could not tell what he was thinking; whether he was intrigued or secretly itching to get the check.
And in that moment, Chloe realized she was much more concerned with what Alexander would think, and how he would react, than she had anticipated. She did not know why. They had been out of touch for a few years. And she had shaped an entrepreneurial life for herself that she was proud of. One in which she had the honor and pleasure of making a true and lasting difference in people’s lives. She was living her purpose, she was happy. That was all that mattered.
She lifted her gaze to meet his, mentally squared her shoulders, and breathed away the nervous beating of her heart.
“My consultancy… it’s a matchmaking agency. I help people find their soulmate.”
“Huh,” came the sound of Alexander’s voice as he sat there, taking it all in.
Chloe watched as he began to slowly nod his head. “Chloe the Matchmaker,” he said at long last. “I can see that.”
She blinked with surprise. “Really?”
“I remember once, we all went to happy hour to celebrate Veronica’s birthday and there was this guy there, Darryl from accounts payable. I remember how you sidled up to him halfway through the night and steered him to the other end of the bar where there was a group of women sipping sangria. And next thing you know, Darryl’s smitten with one of the women, phone numbers were exchanged and a year later, they were man and wife.
Chloe’s jaw dropped. She had no idea Alexander had been paying attention to her shenanigans that night. Was she not as subtle as she thought she had been?
Despite her creed to keep her gift secret from her co-workers, on occasions when the thread of kismet suddenly made an appearance during a business meeting, holiday party, happy hour or the like, she felt just as compelled to nudge the wandering soulmates together, if need be. To maintain her professionalism, however, she had had to figure out subtle and creative ways to do so, such as pretending to be a fun-loving wingwoman to Darryl from accounts payment, just to get him to talk to and ask out Tyra, the pretty woman he had been eyeing from afar for over an hour.
Tyra had been surrounded by four other women. It was hard enough for a shy guy like Darryl to work up the courage to approach a woman one-on-one. There was no way he was going to approach a group of five women; not without some help.
Since Chloe and Darryl worked at the same company, she could not tell him outright: I’m a matchmaker and I know who your soulmate is. Instead, she had to present herself as nothing more than a temporary wingwoman; just a work colleague wanting to help a brother out.
But, apparently, Alexander had seen through her ruse.
“I always thought that was a nice thing you did for Darryl,” Alexander said. “Did you know they have two kids now?”
“No way!”
“The youngest is named Chloe…”
Chloe gasped, bringing a hand to her heart.
“Well, it’s her middle name. But still,” he added.
Chloe could not believe they had named a daughter after her. Assuming they did not have a Grandma Chloe or Great-Aunt Chloe in the family, she was honored beyond words.
“And I remember that time you became laser-focused on the keynote speaker at that innovation conference we went to in Seattle…”
She frowned. “Was I that obvious?
“No, I’m just very observant.”
The waiter returned with a cornucopia of mouthwatering appetizers.
“I thought it was just a fun hobby of yours,” Alexander said, placing a cloth napkin in his lap. “I didn’t know it was something you wanted to do full time. Is that why you left Werner?”
She nodded.
“Well, good for you,” he said with a smile; and Chloe knew him well enough to know the smile was sincere.
“How many matches have you had thus far?” he asked.
“You know what,” she said, blushing with embarrassment. “I don’t keep count, actually.”
“Then business must be really good.”
Chloe grinned. Business had indeed been really good of late.
“You’ll have to ask Jenna,” she replied. “She’s always keeping a tally in her head.”
“Glad to see you two are still thick as thieves.“
“Yeah, we are,” Chloe said, trying to ignore the pit of guilt in her stomach.
She had been lying by omission to her best friend for over a week, even going so far as to tip-toe around the house earlier, like a thief in the morn.
She promised herself she would tell Jenna everything later that week… once Alexander had jetted off to his next round of corporate fire fighting and wine-and-dines, on three continents.
Hours later, Bertie slowed to a stop in front of Chloe’s apartment building.
During brunch, a subsequent stroll in the marina, and the drive back to the City, they had talked about everything under the sun, just like old times.
Chloe was beyond relieved that all of her nervousness going into the brunch had been for naught.
Alexander got out, rounded the car and opened the door for her.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“It was really nice catching up,” he said. “We should do this again sometime… presuming I didn’t bore you to death.”
Chloe smiled. “You didn’t and I’d like that.”
“I almost forgot…”
He popped the trunk and pulled out a sturdy canvas bag filled to the brim with a seasonal assortment of fruits and vegetables.
“For you and Jenna, courtesy of my mother… by way of my refrigerator.”
Chloe laughed. “Why thank you.”
He leaned in and gave her his signature kiss to the cheek. “Have a great week.”
“You too. And have a safe flight… or rather, series of flights.”
He grinned. “I’ll send you some pics from Buenos Aires.”
Then he glided back into his beloved convertible and, with a wink and a wave, jetted off into the distance.
Chloe stood there for a moment, not sure how she felt or wanted to feel as his parting words echoed in her head:
We should do this again sometime.
Sometime was vague and noncommittal.
Do this again was just as vague.
Alexander was normally very precise with his words. And she was way past the age of dissecting a cute guy’s words like a moonstruck teenager.
If she took those six simple words at face value, then he was simply saying he would like to have another friendly brunch with her at some indefinite time in the future.
Could be weeks, months, years from now.
Which meant there was a ninety-nine percent chance that, despite Jenna’s incessant assertions to the contrary, Chloe had been right all along – Alexander was and always had been interested in being justfriends.
Yet, as she stood there by the curb, his cologne still lingering in the air around her, a small hidden part of her was a wee bit disappointed by this definitive discovery.
She chalked it up to the fact that it had been a good long while since she had spent a fun and relaxing day in the company of a gorgeous man who was not a client. Male attention could be incredibly intoxicating, especially when it was showered upon you by a man like Alexander Turin.
And now that he was gone, she felt like her day was suddenly a little less sunny.
Chloe took it as a sign that having a summer fling with a Mr. Right Now who was cute, fun and in no way interested in anything long-term was precisely what she needed right now.
She smiled to herself as she stepped into her apartment building, excited to find out just who her Mr. Right Now would be and what kind of adventures they would get up to in the heat and vibrancy of a New York City summer.