The subscriber brightened. “Really? That’s hopeful. Well, thanks. So far, I’ve definitely gotten less dick pics on Crush than I do on the other apps.”
“That’s not a bad legacy to have attached to my name, I guess,” Rhiannon murmured, as the woman waved and walked away.
Rhiannon took another big gulp of her wine and surveyed the crowd again. The back of her neck itched, but it shouldn’t. Lakshmi had vetted the guest list before hackingit for Rhiannon. No Swype employees were at this event, let alone its Chief Executive Asshole. Of course, that didn’t mean everyone in this room liked her.
Her gaze lingered on a small woman not far from her, caught by her strange attire—all black and lace, with a weird hat and a veil that hid the upper half of her face, like she was some kind of old-timey widow—but then the band stopped playing. Rhiannon glanced away for a second, and when she looked back, the crowd had shifted, concealing the woman from view.
That nagging feeling of being watched disappeared, and Rhiannon was so grateful for that, she exchanged her empty wineglass for a full one. The applause died down and a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out onto the stage, took the mic, thanked the band, and smiled a Colgate smile at the audience. “Hello, all. Thank you for coming tonight. My name’s William Daniels, I’m the CEO of Matchmaker.” His smile widened when people clapped.
Rhiannon rocked back on her heels. She’d seen William around before, but his vaguely dismissive attitude had discouraged her from getting to Annabelle via her executive management.
A huge screen descended onto the stage and flashed a light blue, Matchmaker’s big white M glowing.
“Over two decades ago, Matchmaker was created by a pair of sisters out of a small office in San Francisco.” William paced the stage deliberately, a showman in his natural habitat. “Annabelle and Jennifer Kostas had a vision, to take their successful brick-and-mortar matchmaking business tothe new frontier of the internet, to help more people find love than ever before. And they did. The small office in San Francisco may have turned into our current, much larger headquarters in Los Angeles, but we remain committed to you. We remain committed to our hundred-point matching system. We remain committed to helping you find the high of love, not the high of swipes.”
It was an indirect dig at Crush and Swype, but Rhiannon didn’t take it personally. She’d heard this spiel a million times, and William couldn’t deliver it with Jennifer’s charm. The kind-faced matronly woman had filmed commercials proclaiming the same a few years ago.
Rhiannon could afford to be magnanimous to the company she hoped to buy.
“We are so proud of our track record, with tens of thousands of successful matches.”
Rhiannon clapped along with everyone else. Crush’s headquarters were also wallpapered with engagement and wedding and birth announcements from the last three years. She treasured all of them. Not because she was a sentimental person, but because they represented dollar bills. Hope, man. Hell of a drug.
William’s face turned grave. “This has been a year of change and reflection and regrouping for us after the death of our beloved founder and my predecessor CEO, Jennifer. I know many of you were hoping to see Annabelle here tonight, but unfortunately, she’s not feeling well, and will not be able to address you.”
Murmurs ran through the crowd. Rhiannon shared theirdisappointment but she’d half expected this. Two appearances at one conference from a woman who had managed to stay out of the public eye for over twenty years had seemed like a lot.
There’s still the interview tomorrow. You’ll have your chance.
William spread his hands. “However, we’re excited about what we have in the works. I won’t take up your time tonight with talk about that—you’re here to party, after all—but I hope you’ll come to our open house tomorrow to find out more. Tonight, I’d like you to meet a friend of the company. As we say at Matchmaker, ‘You never know who you’ll find.’” William smirked and Rhiannon leaned closer, her competitive side engaged. That was totally the self-indulgent, smug face of a businessman who was about to reveal some new toy to the audience, and if Matchmaker had a toy, Rhiannon wanted it.
“Our slogan is appropriate, because to be honest, you really will never know who you’ll find on Matchmaker. The love of your life, your next best friend. A doctor. A teacher. A scientist. A carpenter. And every now and again, a former football player. Please welcome our newest spokesman and Matchmaker client, two-time Super Bowl champion, son of a proud football dynasty, former linebacker for the Portland Brewers, Samson Lima!”
Rhiannon reared back, her heart thudding in time to the applause of the other people in the room.
Wait.
Waaaaait.
Lots of men are named Samson.
Lots of men who are built like linebackers are named Samson.
Lots of men who are built like linebackers and look exactly like the man whose face is on the screen now are named Samson.
Lots of men who are built like linebackers and look exactly like the man whose face is on the screen now, the face of the man who kissed you one night three months ago under a moonlit sky whose name was also Samson, are named Samson.
Oh, fuck. No. That was taking the train to Coincidence-Land a little too far.
Rhi scanned the smiling headshot on the giant screen, hoping to find some way to differentiatethisSamson from the Samson she’d met on a beach more than a thousand miles away from here. The man who had kissed his way down her body, then filled her up with his body.
The man who had asked, no, begged, to see her again... and hadstood her the fuck up.
Rhiannon didn’t realize she had fisted her hands until her nails dug into her skin, and even the pain couldn’t get her to relax, especially when the man, thebastard, walked onto the stage.
He’d worn faded jeans and a shirt when they’d met, his hair pulled back into a stubby ponytail. His scruff had scraped her inner thighs when he’d gone down on her, when he’d licked her up and down like she was a melting ice cream cone, when he’d whispered against her body that she tasted so delicious.
His massive body looked even bigger and stronger tonight in a tailored suit. His face was clean-shaven, nothing to hide his smile, his teeth flashing white against his brownskin. He’d cut his long hair short. But it was still him, even all cleaned up and respectable looking. Slick and shiny and so charming now, when he’d been rough and ready and sweetly hesitant with her that night.
