After staying up all night to consider it, I’d landed on 2.5 million for my donation. It felt odd doing exactly what Mason had done, and I wanted to make sure I ended up with someone suitable. I was really hoping women weren’t in tiers by cash or anything outrageous like that, but if they were, I felt going higher than Mason should at least get me someone in that bracket, right?
“Well, I appreciate the consideration.” I looked around to see if anyone else was watching or approaching, but all the freshly-meeting couples were getting drinks, dancing, and totally consumed in their own worlds. “Am I meeting her in the same place?”
“No, sir. I’ll be taking you up to her private suite.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a face mask, the kind used for sleeping. I raised an eyebrow, but her smile remained unmoved. “You understand, don’t you? Privacy is our top priority.”
I stared at the mask in disbelief for a minute. It would be so easy to walk out of this crackpot place, call in a stop payment on my donation, and go back to dating the old-fashioned way. Was I seriously going to blindfold myself and let some stranger lead me to maybe a private suite of some highly-rated matchmaker or maybe to a dumpster to rob and kill me?
“I’m not comfortable with that.” I took out my phone. “I can call and tell her myself if that would help.”
A moment of fear flashed across the woman’s eyes, before her abject kindness came back. “That won’t be necessary. Please, follow me.”
She led me into the club, and despite what she’d said previously, she ushered me into the same private room I’d sat in three times before. Had I messed up my chance to speak to the Wish Maker directly? She pulled the curtain shut on our room before sitting down on one of the couches. I sat across from her and struggled not to curse myself for being so stubborn.
“I must say, Mr. Williams,” the assistant began, in a deeper, more natural tone than the sing-songy one she’d addressed me with up to that point, “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a difficult client.”
“Client?” It struck me like a metal bat over the head. “You’re the-”
“It’s very important to keep my private quarters private. Your impertinence means that we will have to settle for meeting here.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “And I should ask you to keep your voice down as well.”
“Of course.” I crossed my arms. “So, this is your shtick huh? You size men up, pretending you aren’t who you are?”
“My clients and their prospective matches are all important to me. This method allows me to get a good sense of who you are without you putting on false airs. I can both get a good gauge of the type of woman that will match well with you as well as ensure you’re up to the task of treating whichever woman I introduce you to with the utmost respect.”
“You mean making sure I can afford it?” I asked, unimpressed.
A smirk grew on her face. “You’re an interesting one.”
I ignored the insult laced in her tone and simply smiled back at her. “Thank you.”
“To put things plainly, Mr. Williams, I’m struggling with you. You have an obscenely ambiguous personality and none of the conversations we’ve had previously have suggested any specific type of woman.” She seemed more intrigued than perturbed, although both feelings were apparent. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what type of woman you’re looking for.”
I went silent at that. Exactly what kind? I had no idea. “Um. I’m not entirely sure.”
She tilted her head. “Well, I know it can sometimes feel nasty to go superficial, but let’s start with looks. What do you prefer there? Blondes? Brunettes? Maybe just always leaning toward darker colors like black or brown as opposed to lighter ones?”
I shook my head and ran back over my dating history. “I’ve really dated women with all sorts of hair colors. Even multi-colored.” I furrowed my brow as I tried to zero in on what my type would be. “Come to think of it, the women I’ve dated in the past don’t really have anything in common. Hair color, eye color, height, weight – I guess that stuff just doesn’t matter much to me. It’s always mattered if she seemed interesting.”
She raised an eyebrow and a smile started small on her face and then grew. “Interesting?”
“Yeah. Women can be so boring sometimes.”
“How so?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Like doing whatever you say without questioning it. That really predictable ‘playing hard to get’ thing. I guess I go for women who are just inherently different, and lately I don’t see any.” I threw up my hands. “Hell, at this point, I’d take someone who isn’t just completely boring.”
She brought her fingers to a steeple in front of her face. “Not completely boring with no specifics on looks.” She chuckled. “I believe I can do that.”
I could see the mischief in her eyes and held up a hand. “Now, don’t go throwing me in there with, like, an eighty-two-year-old woman or something. I’ve donated a good sum of money. I’m prepared to take care of this person, so I expect a good match.”
“Oh, you need not worry, Mr. Williams. I plan to see to getting your date personally. I guess you could say.” Her grin curled even wider. “I like a good challenge.”
That made two of us. “Fine. So, what do I do next?”
Her borderline-evil grin relaxed a little bit, more toward the friendly assistant she’d been in meetings prior. “We allow for meeting here at the club, or you can arrange for separate accommodations if you’d like. Safety is important to us, so if you arrange for a meeting outside of our facilities, one of my staff members will be on watch. You won’t know who it is, but they will be there.”
Just who was this woman? What sort of power and pull did she have that she could have staff members following around anyone she set up on a date? “That happens every time?”
“After your first date, once we’re comfortable that there is no risk to either you or your match, we leave you to your own devices. I wouldn’t be worth my salt if I just arranged strangers and let them off. Can you imagine how frequently my service would be taken advantage of for untoward activities?” She shook her head. “I simply can’t have it.”
I lowered my voice a bit more when I asked, “Have you ever caught someone doing something like that?” She stared at me silently for a few moments. Both like she was trying to determine why I would ask and whether or not she would answer. I pulled my hands up in surrender. “I’m not like that. I guess I can be a bit of a gossip.”
“You like interesting things,” she replied, a fact not a question. “Things that aren’t run-of-the-mill. I understand.” She folded her hands in her lap. “And yes, only once. The man in question had arranged for a date and it turned out he was recruiting for a possible sex-trafficking ring.”
“Whoa! Your staff caught him?”
“Yes. The man had given me a bad feeling, so I sent one of my…stronger staff members to look over the date. When they were walking out of the restaurant, the match tried to shove his date into his car. My staff member had to step in.”