“Destiny Gitwieler,” I answered automatically. “Harvard Business School graduate, runs her family’s foundation, speaks four languages, and has been featured in Vogue’s ’30 Under 30’ list.”
“Boring,” Kris yawned. “Marry the wedding planner instead. At least she has fire.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks as Callan laughed. “Don’t tempt me. She’s already threatened my life twice this week.”
“Only twice?” Morgan seemed impressed. “You’re slipping, man.”
“We’ll let you get back to your bride hunting,” Chance said. “But weekly updates are required. Terms of the bet.”
“And photographic evidence of all meetings,” Kris added. “No claiming you met with someone when you were actually just getting lap dances at Scores.”
“That was one time, and it was your bachelor party,” Callan protested.
“Still counts,” Morgan said. “Good luck, Anica. You’ll need it.”
The call ended before I could respond, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.
“So those are my friends,” Callan said cheerfully. “Charming, aren’t they?”
“That’s not the word I’d use,” I replied, still processing what I’d just witnessed. “Are they always like that?”
“That was them on good behavior,” he assured me. “Usually there’s more profanity and at least one reference to the Stanford incident, which is legally prohibited from being discussed in public.”
Despite myself, I was curious. “What Stanford incident?”
“Nice try.” He winked. “That information requires at least level seven friendship clearance. You’re currently at level two: ‘reluctant professional acquaintance with homicidal tendencies.’”
“I’m at level ‘client who’s testing my patience,’” I corrected, turning back to the board. “Now, about tonight. Destiny is ourbest option. She’s smart, accomplished, socially connected, and most importantly, looking for a strategic relationship.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I actually spoke to her, unlike some people who just make snap judgments based on photographs,” I replied. “She was quite candid about wanting a partnership that would benefit her foundation. I was clear about the... unusual circumstances.”
“You told her about the bet?” He seemed surprised.
“I told her you were seeking a marriage of convenience on an expedited timeline. She doesn’t know the specific motivation.” I handed him a folder with Destiny’s complete profile. “She’s interested enough to meet. Dinner tonight at Le Bernardin, eight o’clock. Wear a suit.”
He flipped through the folder, his expression unreadable. “She seems perfect on paper.”
“She is perfect,” I insisted. “Attractive, intelligent, independent, and realistic about marriage. Exactly what you claimed to want.”
He closed the folder. “We’ll see.”
Something in his tone worried me. “Please don’t sabotage this meeting.”
“Would I do that?” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.
“Based on my limited experience with you? Absolutely.”
He grinned. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”
“Somehow that’s not reassuring.” I gathered my notes. “I’ll email you the details for tonight. I’ll be at a nearby table to observe and provide feedback afterward.”
“Playing chaperone?”
“Playing wedding planner who doesn’t trust you not to blow this opportunity,” I corrected. “Destiny is highly sought after. Don’t waste her time.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted, then wandered back to the wall of profiles, studying them. “You really did put a lot of work into this.”
