Nasir pushed into the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton in downtown Los Angeles, taking a deep breath of the pleasantly sterile air. Los Angeles was a madhouse that evening, but it didn’t even touch the raucous interior of his mind. Work had been hell, even for a Monday—but during the cab ride on the way to the hotel, Cassandra had texted. Finally. He wouldn’t look at it until dinner was over. He couldn’t let it cloud his time with his family.

If he looked at it now, he’d be liable to skip the family dinner entirely and meet her wherever she stood. In the elevator, his fingers itched to pull out his phone all the way to the twenty-fourth floor. In his mind’s eyes, all he could see was her: the perfectly heart-shaped face, the glossy blonde hair that smelled like flowers, her plump, pink lips that nearly pushed him over the edge. He could imagine those lips doing a lot of things. Her short, toned frame looked like it wouldn’t have much of a problem doing a lot of other things, too.

He strode toward the restaurant, his shoes tapping quietly on the tiled floor. Best not to think about Cassandra too much before the family dinner. As soon as he crossed the threshold into the moodily-lit restaurant, he spotted his mother and youngest brother tucked into a corner overlooking the cityscape.

He waved as he approached, weaving through heavily padded chairs to reach the table. He pressed a kiss to both his mother’s and brother’s cheeks before he settled in, smoothing the napkin over his lap.

“You’re early,” he commented, creasing a brow. “Usually I’m the early one.”

“Yes, well, we had some matters to take care of downtown, so I thought we’d come and enjoy the view once we finished.” His mother Safiya’s perfectly painted lips turned up at the corners. Her gaze glittered like a dark gemstone. “I see you so infrequently. These dinners are practically the only way I know I have an eldest son.”

Nasir shook his head, sipping at his water glass in lieu of responding. His youngest brother Basri laughed. “Mother, it’s only been a couple months. Please.”

Safiya seared him with a look. “Are you seeing somebody, Nasir?”

The question fell like a boulder over a precipice. His mother would never let up on the quest for his wife, but at least she spared him some of the meddling she’d reserved for Asim. Being her favorite had its perks, and this was one.

“Of course not, Mother.” Nasir tutted. “I don’t have any time. You know this.”

“He’s married to his desk,” Basri quipped.

Safiya glowered at her youngest then turned her piercing gaze back to him. “That’s not very reassuring. I don’t want you to sacrifice your life just to uphold the legacy of your father. Of this family.”

“I’m not sacrificing my life. Quite the contrary.” He smiled politely to the waiter who arrived to take his drink order. He asked for a glass of red wine. “I’m quite enjoying my life and would rather immerse myself in work.”

“Perhaps a matchmaker is in order.”

Nasri sighed, turning the glass of water between thumb and forefinger. “It’s not necessary.”

“Matchmaker like…what? Pre-Tinder?” Basri’s brow shot up.

“Don’t tell me you use that dangerous stuff,” Safiya warned, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course not,” Basri said, hefting with a laugh. Nasir fought a smile, until his mother shifted her attention back to him.

“It would be good for you,” Safiya said, reaching across the table to pat his hand. “You’re so busy, let the professionals do the work. You just show up and meet a lovely person and then decide if you like her. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Nasir clenched his jaw as he thought it over. It sounded like a nightmare, but he couldn’t tell his mother that. She’d never understand—he was meant for work. Even if he sort of, somewhere, deep down might be open to a relationship, the whole premise was flawed. Being with a woman required attention and dedication, which he couldn’t spare from the business. It could never even out.

So why are you so excited to hear from Cassandra?

His fingers twitched as he considered swiping open his phone to read her message, but he stilled himself. “Mother, I don’t think I have time to do that right now.”

“Oh, come now. What do you spend every day doing? Working. You won’t survive forever like that. You must learn to get fresh air and meet people and be with women.”

Her forceful words rang between his ears. Was she secretly calling him gay? Maybe his own reticence had pushed her to this assumption. “I just went to a wedding this past weekend, I’ll have you know. I got plenty of fresh air.”

The waiter arrived with his wine, which he received gratefully. He took a sip as his mother responded.

“Hiring a matchmaker won’t hurt. I’ll pay for it. Just say yes.”

Basri’s eyes widened at his mother’s side—a look of empathy. Their mother was incorrigible, and each brother suffered in their own way under her whims.

“Fine,” he said, taking another sip of wine.

Safiya grinned like the Cheshire cat. “I knew you’d see reason.”

“You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?”

Safiya’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Why would you think that? I’m heading to the powder room, boys. I’ll be back.” She stood and sashayed toward the front of the restaurant, leaving a tense silence between the two brothers.

“Has she been harping on this?” Nasir asked, fishing out his phone. He couldn’t wait any longer—he was desperate to see what Cassandra had written. After two full days of waiting for a word, a sign that he hadn’t imagined her. Like an ethereal blonde princess haunting his memories.

“Only for the past ten years,” Basri intoned, swirling his beer. He took a long chug, and then flagged down a waiter.

Nasir sighed, swiping to his messages. Cassandra’s text, an unknown number, shone back at him: Hey Nasir…this is Cassandra. Hope you remember me from the wedding… How was the rest of your weekend? I’m still hearing the funeral dirge in my head. Is it haunting you like it is me? Hope you’ve had a great Monday using your Harvard business degree.

Nasir grinned like a fool, rereading the message two more times.

“What’re you reading?” Basri leaned over to peer at his screen. Nasir frowned and put the phone facedown on the table.

“Nothing.”

“You are seeing someone!”

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat, trying to erase the remnants of…that feeling, the one that had seared through his chest like a lightning bolt while reading her words. He had to get back to neutral. Even-keeled. “We just met. It’s a friend.”

“She or he?”

He paused. “Sh— he.”

“Bullshit.” Basri laughed haughtily, taking another pull from his glass of beer. “It’s a she.”

“It doesn’t matter. We just met. It won’t go anywhere.” He shrugged. The words were as much for himself as his brother. “I don’t have time.

He swiped to his email, like it might clear his head. An unknown new arrival: Welcome to Lasting Connections! He squinted at his screen, reading through a welcome e-mail to some service. Right before he wrote it off as spam, he realized: his mother had already signed him up for the matchmaking services, way before bringing it up tonight. That, or she’d worked fast from the bathroom.

“Time for what?” Basri pulled him back into conversation.

“A relationship.”

“You don’t need to have a relationship to get laid, brother. And I’m sure you have time for that.”

Nasir rolled his eyes. With ten years between them, it was almost a joke that his twenty-three-year-old brother was giving him advice about sex. “Thanks for the tip.”

Basri smiled smugly, but it fell quickly when his gaze moved across the restaurant. “Here comes mother.”

Nasir cleared his throat, straightening his posture, a reflex that persisted even into his thirties. Like Safiya might appear behind him and straighten it for him, just as she had during his adolescence. Basri’s words still echoed in his head, reminding him of a sad truth: he might be the eldest, but he certainly got laid the least. Maybe it was time for a little jaunt. Something to take his mind off work for once.

He wouldn’t let his mother know, no matter how excited she’d be about the prospect of him reaching out to a woman. Neither of them needed to know about his private time…or just how excited he was at the idea of seeing Cassandra again, no matter where it led.