We had to go on a helicopter. On a damned helicopter.Honestly, why am I surprised anymore?And why do rich people insist on so much seclusion? This is the second Italian I’ve seen with their house on an island. Well, in their defense, it’s a summerhouse and not their actual place of residence. And there’s a motor boat that gets them to Rome’s shoreline under ten minutes. Unlike the Bianchi island, this one was large enough to host a small resort-like village towards the back.“Wait, is that village for us?”“Yes!” she said excitedly, “It wasn’t completed the last time I came here, but I think they’re done! They might open this up to tourists in the coming summer as a cruise stop.”Wow, I sighed inside. Being a billionaire must be nice.We started our descent right as we were over the helipad. There were about five different people to help us off and make sure our dresses were off the ground as we went inside. The interior was absolutely royal. Red carpets, tapestries, large chandelie
Ariana came to pick us up immediately, eyeing the two of us skeptically.“Would you need me to call up your butler, Mr. Alexakis-Caron.”“Please don’t.” he sighed dreadfully, “I’m a thirty-year-old man who hasn’t needed him in five years.”“As you wish.”The ride was silent but warm. I’d shed the overcoat and placed it neatly on the backrest of the passenger seat. I sat in the back with Cristo with him to my left. Our arms were so close, almost touching. I could feel my arm and neck heating up, remembering how sensual his light touches were, and the strength of just his hand. The warmth of his palm replayed on my cheek, and I wanted nothing more that for that to be a forever.“Ariana,” I said, “could you head towards the second main plaza uphill?”She looked back at me confused, but nodded and turned into a street slanting upwards. We rode in silence until the places started to look familiar.“Yes, stop here.” I said, “Do you have a coin?”“Of course.” Ariana reached into the dashboar
It was an all too familiar a feeling, being numb. So why was I so scared of it?Maybe I should consider therapy.I was quick to shrug off the thought. It wasn’t a good look for the Riccis. GOD! I still cared about what people thought! But it couldn’t be helped, right? That’s just what my job was. I needed to stay in the spotlight. There was no escaping it.My eyes slowly focused better on the article before me as my mind registered the news. I could feel my heart sinking, knowing once again that there was no convincing Cristo of the mischief that he’d been strung to, being made to dance between the puppeteer and myself like his life was some sort of a game.There really was no escaping it…RENOWNED MATCH-MAKER CAUGHT PLAYING HOOKY WITH MAFIA’S NEXT HEIRI shook my head, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” My temple throbbed with annoyance, but at least that was something I could feel. Better than nothing at all.New York City’s biggest match-maker, Lilith Mendez, was spotted getting away from More
The Ricci’s insisted I spend another week just to cool off from the work, but I really needed to leave Italy. I was tired of the memories there and explained that I should probably check myself into a bit of counseling for what had happened regarding Rio. That seemed to quell them immediately, and I was so taken aback by their understanding and kindness. It must’ve given them the wrong impression when I announced I was heading back right after my talk with Guasparre, and they’d convinced me to have dinner at the Moretti’s place before accompanying me to the airport.“You have a place here with us, Lilith,” Mrs. Ricci said, holding my hands in her warm grasp as the speakers announced the boarding for my flight, “Once Guasparre is ready again, please come back.”“I certainly will,” I gripped her hands in reassurance. She moved away to let Bellona engulf me in a hug. She still looked apologetic. I patted her arm, “Thank you for taking care of me. I’m so glad I got to be here. I’ll be bac
My ears had gone silent, but it all happened so fast yet…so slow. Blair buckling under the pressure and begging Cristo to not say anything. Hands waving and red eyes tearing up, asking him why he would ever do such a thing. Her telling him she loved him.Please, her mouth moved, I love you. Don’t do this to me.People do strange things when they love someone. Mark’s mother. Blair. Cristo’s parents. And it was then that I understood it all so clearly. My fears, my feelings…my trauma.To be loved was a burden.Cristo sat beside me in the car, the air around us sullen and sour as our questions seeped into the air. Unspoken, untrusting, and unending.So many questions and I had the voice to ask none of them. Was it even my business?To be honest…I think it was.“You need to tell me what’s going on, Cristo.” I said softly. “I…I want to trust you but…what I saw in there–”“It wasn’t me.”“I wasn’t finished.” I snapped. He exhaled deeply through his nose, eyes softening in something close to
I sat in front of the reporter, trying to pull up an easygoing smile. This was going to be broadcasted live on TV so I needed to at least try having a good appearance.“And you’ve been in the industry for how long now?”“Eight years, although I’ve had my own business for six.”“Yet your reviews are stellar!”“All in a day’s work, I guess,” I responded humbly and the audience clapped in the seat across the set. It was such a strange thing to be on TV. I knew things needed to be rehearsed and that things were planned and shot ahead of time, but it felt all the more unnatural.One episode a week. This wasn’t something they shot months in advance. They wanted the viewers to interact with the show actively. I didn’t really understand most of it, to be honest. Then again, I’d never been on TV before.“You must have heard of your competition, though.” The man interviewing me said cheekily. “Hugo Evans.”“I glanced at his Instagram profile on the way here.” I shrugged jokingly with nonchalanc
Dr Kathryn was an unnerving woman. In her fifties, long and thin with magnificent bronze and pepper hair pulled loosely into a bun. She took her mother’s first name as her last name right after graduating high school. Wearing a slightly oversized grey sweater with black slim jeans and sneakers, she held a stony pale face and eyes so dark they were black. Her face was youthful but mature, and it didn’t look like someone could mess with her if they tried.I liked that.“I’m sure you’re a smart woman, Lilith Mendez.” She started off firmly, but gentle. With a tablet in hand and fingers poised to type, she gave me a long and calculating look. “You’re here because you’re ready to be helped, yes?”“It took me a lot of thinking and coaxing.” I admitted. “It’s possible I might backtrack every now and then since I’m not used to…to like…being helped. It’s rare.”“To be helped?”“In the emotional sense, yes.”“All right.” She nodded. “Well, I need you to know that helping you is my primary goal
Lyra and I sat expectantly on my couch, watching the new episode for the week. I was too tired to watch it the night it was aired so we opted to watch the recording in the moring. The tabloids had come in waves about Hugo and I’s mysterious conversation.“Jesus, it didn’t even look that bad,” I huffed.“You looked annoyed.”“That’s what the tabloids say.”“THEY TOOK PICTURES!” Lyra hissed, “AND THERE ARE VIDEOS!”I rolled my eyes and took another look at the article.New York based billionaire matchmaker Lilith Mendez and hotshot matchmaker from London, Hugo Evans are already under the spotlight, more so than their own clients on the reality TV show Cupid Covens. The two had a brief interaction before they set onto their mission to narrow down the list of potential suitors for their clients. It didn’t seem to be the friendliest conversation, but Hugo’s response at the end suggested otherwise. While competition is rampant, given Lilith Mendez stellar reputation as a matchmaker and an e