But I remember her. The way she looked at me with righteous, furious anger.
As if she already had me figured out.
I close the file and pull up my secure email. The message from Talia sits at the top of my inbox. Elite Relationship Solutions - Confidential Intake Packet.
If I fill out the forms, I can delay the press conferences for a few weeks.
It proves I’m addressing the perception problem, even if I don’t follow through.
By the time they circle back, the press cycle will have moved on. The investors will have calmed down. And this entire ridiculous marriage scheme will be forgotten.
I open the email.
I finish the forms efficiently, answering questions about lifestyle, deal-breakers, timelines.
When I reach the end, there's a submission button and a note:Once submitted, an ERS consultant will review your responses and contact you within 48 hours to discuss potential matches.
I hover the cursor over the button.
This isn't a commitment. It's paperwork.
I click submit.
The confirmation screen appears:Thank you for completing your confidential intake with Elite Relationship Solutions. A consultant will be in touch shortly.
I close the browser and sit in the silence of my office, looking out at the city below.
I pour another glass of water and return to work.
The forms are submitted. In forty-eight hours, ERS will call and I'll decline politely.
This conversation will be finished, and I can get back to actual work.
Chapter three
ERS
The next morning, Tessa Bloom sits at her desk in ERS's quiet offices, two intake forms displayed side-by-side on her dual monitors.
On the left: Seamus O'Malley, billionaire CEO, requested by his board for image stabilization.
On the right: Rosanna Lopez, children's book illustrator, seeking security without losing herself.
On paper, they're a terrible match—different worlds, different values, different everything.
But Tessa has been doing this work long enough to know that paper doesn't tell the whole story.
She scrolls through Seamus's responses, noting the careful, controlled language. Every answer is precise, measured, revealing nothing while appearing to reveal everything.
It's the kind of intake form that makes her job harder because the client is so busy protecting himself that he can't articulate what he actually needs.
Until she reaches question seventeen:What qualities are most important to you in a partner?
His answer is longer this time:Someone who sees possibilities instead of limitations. Someone who is "sunny side up". They don't ignore the difficulties, but face them with hope anyway.
Tessa sits back in her chair. "Sunny side up." That's... specific.
Unusually specific for a man who's been giving generic answers about compatibility and shared values throughout the rest of his form.
