Page 29 of Face Off With Fate

NINE

GRACIELLA

OVULATION WAS PROBABLY AT THE SCENE OF THIS BAD DECISION, TOO.

Ari

So, are you ready to play matchmaker?

Me:

I’m not playing matchmaker.

Me:

This is an interview for these women…I’m a professional

Ari:

You broke into someone’s house to threaten them into giving you their promotion

Me:

MY PROMOTION

Itze:

I’m not sure saying that makes it better…

My butt cheeks tingled, and my left foot felt staticky from sitting for two hours, but I refused to get up and join Monroe.

He paced the wall of windows in the conference room like a caged animal, his reflection following him. Five more minutes and there’d be wear marks in the navy carpet. The faint lemony scent of wood polish, mixed with whatever cologne he liked to wear, wafted through the room.

He stopped and folded his arms over his chest, glaring at me. “That makes two who won’t work.”

I studied the glossy walnut table and the ring of condensation surrounding my half-drunk iced coffee. The liquid was dangerously close to the pile of papers. Not that it’d matter if they were ruined. They were rejects.

“So she was a little…older.” I kept the concern out of my voice and busied my hands with arranging my notebook for the millionth time so I wouldn’t pick at the sparse remnants of the polish I’d done that morning.

“She was the same age as my mother.”

I tamped down my wince. “People love an age gap. She’s well established—a former actress making her way back into the limelight.” I knew damn well she wouldn’t work, but his bad attitude was pissing me off. “And she looked amazing for sixty-three.”

That part was true. It took all my willpower not to switch the questions over to her skincare and anti-aging regimen.

“And the first one?” He threw his hands in the air. “She’s divorcing some guy involved with the mafia up in New York?”

“Allegedly.” I waved my pen at him. “The ‘alleged’ part is really important in these situations.” The harsh line of his lips didn’t move. I sighed. “Okay, you’re right. Probably better to avoid her in case they put a hit out on you.”

I was joking…mostly.

Monroe’s thick brow ticked up higher than I thought possible, since it was almost always pulled down. “Remind me again why I’m trusting you with my future?” His deep, hollowed laugh filled the conference room. “Oh, that’s right, because you shoved your way into my business and now I’ll potentially lose my job and my livelihood. Maybe even my life with the women you’re setting me up with.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Not that he saw, since he was back to doing laps.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Monroe.” I sounded confident, but inside, my stomach churned. The pressure of what was riding on these interviews settled on my shoulders. This hire had to happen today, and two of the three were already out. With the dinner next week and another article dropping after the meeting with Tommy, we needed to make some offensive moves.

Every time Josh’s name was mentioned somewhere online, I got a notification. This morning, I had the pleasure of waking up to Josh Monroe: Youngest Coach to Win the Cup and Youngest to Retire?