Chapter 1
“I hear you can find the perfect match for anyone.”
Annoyed, I looked up at the visitor who had walked in without knocking, fully intending to remind him of basic manners. But instead, I just froze.
“You’re not Monsieur Nivarr,” I blurted out, dumbfounded. The man had already made himself entirely too comfortable in the guest chair.
“What’s with the sudden accusations?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “My last name is Nivarr, and I have a ten o’clock appointment.”
It was a blatant lie. I knew exactly who was sitting across from me. We hadn’t seen each other in five years, but to my great misfortune, I remembered that face in vivid detail. His image was permanently etched into my brain, like a punishment for some past sin.
“Well?” he prompted, evidently tired of the silence. A smug smile ghosted across his lips. The bastard—having clearly decided to ruin my mood first thing in the morning—probably thought I was staring because I was swooning over his unearthly good looks. And I was swooning. Or rather, drowning in the sudden ocean of panic that had flooded my veins the second I laid eyes on him. “Are the rumors true?”
Gods, how do I look? Is everything in place? He couldn’t possibly recognize me… right?!
“They are,” I replied, forcing my features into something vaguely resembling a welcoming smile. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to just fall through the floor and escape! Actually, no. Better he crash straight to the deepest pits of Sakarra and dance with the demons for the next few centuries.
“I’d like to use your services,” the man stated, oblivious to the wicked thoughts swirling in my head. “Find me a wife.”
I cleared my throat nervously.
“A… a wife?”
“Is there something else you do here?” he asked dryly. “Or is this not a marriage agency?”
“Forgive me,” I offered a flimsy apology. “It’s just that you’re so…”
A scoundrel.
“…young, handsome, and obviously wealthy. Why would you need a matchmaker?”
He leaned forward abruptly. Thick eyebrows drew together, icy blue eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. It took everything I had not to shrink back into my chair. Did I slip up? Did he recognize me?
But no. To him, the woman sitting across the desk was just a stranger, the owner of a renowned marriage agency who had just annoyed him with unnecessary questions. He was merely a prospective client, I was the service provider, and that was that.
“He who pays the piper calls the tune, isn’t that right?” the visitor tossed out, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “My reasons for being here are none of your concern, Mademoiselle Tomasi.”
“My apologies.” I gave him a placating smile.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to rein in the storm raging inside me. To hell with the panic. This was a professional challenge, not a personal drama. This man was going to be just another name in my database.
I clasped my hands together on the desk and stretched my lips into a polite smile.
“Alright then, Monsieur Nivarr. Tell me, exactly what kind of wife are you looking for?”
In reality, his name was Orian Fréhel. And he truly was impossible to forget. The man who had ruthlessly trampled all over my heart.
***
Welcome to my new story, I’m so glad you’re here! Your support means the world to me. If you enjoyed the beginning, please don’t forget to add it to your reading list. I’d also really appreciate any comments and likes. Thank you!
