Saved By the Boss by Olivia Hayle
Summer
The summer rain is a torrent outside my office window, stronger than New York has experienced in weeks. It’s needed, but I still don’t like it. Not when I know what it’ll mean for the windows in my apartment.
No matter how many rolled-up towels I stuff against the window frames, water still finds ways to seep through. I might applaud its ingenuity, if I wasn’t living with the consequences.
I sigh. Ace looks up at me from his sprawl at my feet, eyebrows raised the way only a dog can.
“Nothing’s up,” I tell him. “Excited to go to my parents this weekend?”
He gives a huff and settles his head back on the floor. Manhattan’s not the place for a dog, and my parents would be more than happy to add him to their little pack upstate, but…
I want him here with me.
“You’re the real matchmaker, aren’t you?” I tell him. My door is closed, with neither Suzy nor my aunt here to witness just how often I talk to my dog. “Clients take one look at you and they melt.”
Ace turns on his side and pushes his snout against my ankle, his nose cold.
“That’s right. Now, if only you could charm Anthony Winter too.”
Ace doesn’t reply. Smart move, too, because the man seems utterly resistant to charm of all sorts. And utterly dismissive of the women I’ve set him up with.
How do you win a bet against someone who is determined to play unfairly? He might say otherwise, but I doubt he gave Isabelle a proper shot. Ciara, well… that’s a different story.
Which reminds me.
I reach for my phone and put on a wide smile as I dial Ciara’s number. She’d asked me to call her back.
“Summer,” she says. “I’m so glad you called.”
“I’m here to help.”
“I just want to touch base about the date last week.”
I grit my teeth. We’ve already spoken about it. “Absolutely. What about it do you want to discuss?”
“Like I said right after, I’d really like to go on another date with Anthony. The date ended so quickly, he didn’t have a chance to grab my phone number.” She laughs, like that had been a silly mistake on Anthony’s part.
“I see,” I say. “Well, it’s always up to both parties if they’d like to schedule another date.”
“You’re right, and I think in this situation, it is certainly mutual,” she says, voice lowering. “Honestly, I’m a bit impressed, Summer. I’d heard great things about Opate but I couldn’t imagine my first date would be with Anthony Winter!”
I frown. “Were you aware of him before you went on a date with him?”
“Okay, I admit I wasn’t. But I Googled him before, of course. Did you know his family owns Winter Hotels? You know, the giant chain?”
I didn’t. I clear my throat. “Well, we do pretty extensive interviews with clients when they join.”
“Oh, that’s right. Of course you know.” She sighs, a tad dreamily. “He wasn’t very talkative, but that’s okay. There are more important things. Would you be so kind as to give Anthony my number and let him know I’m available? That’d be lovely. Oh, I have to go.”
I open my mouth. “I’m not sure if—”
“Thank you! Ciao!” Ciara hangs up before I can let her down. It’s always a tricky thing to do, but I’ve learned to do it with tact, reminding clients that not every connection is a hit on both sides.
Now I’ll have to write her an email.
But first, I type Winter Hotels into the search bar of my computer. Contrary to our normal clients, I have nearly no information on Anthony Winter.
Pictures of a familiar sky-rise emerges. It’s one I’ve walked past multiple times in New York, a proud staple of Park Avenue. With over a century of history, the hotel is a veritable New York landmark. An institution.
He’s not just any old season. He’s a Winter.
Which means Anthony is as old money elite as they come. He hadn’t spoken out of ignorance or dislike when he derided our clients for being elitist or status-seeking.
He’d been speaking from experience.
I lean back in my chair and stare at the imposing image of the Winter Hotel, a pre-war building on Manhattan’s most expensive address. So I have to set him up with someone… well. He’d want someone not of that world, judging by his comments.
But I’ve learned a thing or two about what people think they want, and what they actually do.
They’re rarely the same thing.
Anthony needs someone he can take home to that old money family of his, but not someone who takes it too seriously. Someone with one foot in and one foot out. A woman who appreciates his sarcastic sense of humor and can draw him out of his shell. A woman comfortable with money and prestige without placing undo value on it.
In short, he needs a female client we don’t currently have at Opate. How am I going to pull this off?
Ace rises from his sprawl half an hour later and heads to my closed office door. Three sharp knocks sound a few seconds later.
“Come in!”
Ace’s tail wags softly as Anthony Winter takes a step inside. He looks down at my dog, a frown on his face.
“He’s always here, isn’t he?”
I turn away from my computer. “He’s good for business.”
Anthony doesn’t comment, but he runs a hand over Ace’s head, his fingers smoothing over one of the floppy ears. “A matchmaking company with a mascot,” he mutters.
I straighten in my chair. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes,” he says. “I came by to speak with your aunt and wanted to ask you about the bet. Do you have someone ready to accompany me on Friday evening?
I meet the solid, dark gaze across the room. What did I agree to? Finding a woman this man will approve of is impossible.
“Soon,” I lie. “I think I’ve found the perfect woman for you.”
His lips tug. “Right.”
“I’d also like to apologize for Ciara. I admit that you were right about her not being a good fit for you. I’ve noted it down as another data point, and your next date will be much better.”
This time, he has to look away to hide a smirk. “Well, I’m glad you acknowledge that I can make my own decisions about partners.”
Damn. I make my smile wide and serviceable. “You certainly can, Mr. Winter. All I ask is that you keep an open mind.”
“I will,” he says. “You’ll send me details regarding whoever you choose?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” Anthony returns to my office door, his gaze on Ace. “I’m looking forward to seeing how this bet ends, Miss Davis.”
“So am I, Mr. Winter.”
His eyes flash, as if I’ve made a joke only he understands, and then he closes the office door behind him. I stare at the empty space and regret every decision I’ve made that’s brought me to this point.
I do not have the perfect woman for him.
I’m starting to doubt she exists.