“What are you doing?” I ask, voice low.
She glances up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Exactly what you told me. I’m compiling a shortlist based on your criteria, starting with background and family connections. If I’m going to be efficient, I need as much information as possible. Unless you want me to just pick at random?”
A sigh escapes me, half annoyed, half impressed. “No. That’s fine.”
She taps the screen a few more times, then lifts her gaze, studying me with an intensity that makes me want to look away. “All right. So, some of these questions might seem personal, but they matter. Compatibility isn’t just about money and family, you know. What are your non-negotiables? Any dealbreakers? Do you want someone with a career, or do you prefer someonewho’s comfortable at social events? And… children? You mentioned needing an heir, but are you looking for a mother or just a partner?”
I almost smirk at her directness. “That’s quite a list.”
She shrugs, not the least bit apologetic. “I know you don’t believe in love, but at least let me find you someone you won’t hate sharing a life with. Trust me—it’ll be easier for everyone.”
“No,” I say.
“This is the only way I can get it done on time.”
I scowl. The last thing I need is an interview, but she’s right. We’re running out of time. “Okay, fine.”
She readies her stylus. “Let’s start with basics. How old is too young? Too old?”
I arch a brow. “Twenty-five minimum. Forty would be pushing it.” I pause. “I’m forty-two.”
She nods. “Height, preferences? Blonde, brunette, redhead?”
I almost smile. “I’m not that picky.” My eyes linger on her a second longer than they should.
She grins, not missing a beat. “Any dealbreakers? Politics, smoking, religion, cats versus dogs?”
“No smokers. I don’t care about religion. Cats, fine. Dogs… as long as they’re small and don’t ruin my suits.”
She laughs softly, scribbling. “Allergic to mess. Noted.”
She glances up, eyes searching. “Would you ever relocate for a partner?”
“I doubt it,” I admit. “My life is here.”
Her pen stills. “What about kids? More than one, or just an heir to tick the box?”
I hesitate, then shrug. “I didn’t grow up in a warm family. I want to do better. Maybe more than one, if things work out. But an heir is non-negotiable.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “What does ‘do better’ mean to you?”
It’s a deeper question than I expect. For a second, I see something genuine in her—curiosity, maybe even hope.
I clear my throat. “It means not making a child feel like a business transaction. Or a pawn. They should feel wanted.”
Her expression softens, and for a heartbeat, the air between us changes.
She presses on. “Do you want a woman who works? Or would you prefer someone who’ll focus on the home?”
I consider. “I respect ambition. But she’d have to understand my world is complicated. Privacy, discretion… not everyone’s built for it.”
She nods. “So, brains and backbone. Got it.” She smiles, a little crooked, almost shy. “Anything else? Must love high-rises, brooding men, and the occasional Russian dinner?”
That pulls a quiet laugh from me, unexpected and rusty. “That about covers it.”
She leans back, tapping her stylus on her lips, eyes locked on mine. “You know, you’re not as impossible as you make yourself out to be.”
Her words hang in the air, charged. For a moment, all I can think about is how close she is, how easily this conversation could turn to something else—something neither of us is ready to name.
