by Leslie North
“I’ll call you soon.” He adjusted his belt, then knocked her chin. As she moved to get off the bed, he added, “Don’t move. I can let myself out. You just rest.”
She smiled at him, sinking back into the bed. “Thanks, Nasir. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Cassandra.” He blew a kiss to her before heading out into the living room. Once she heard the front door click shut, she reached for her phone, swiping to the message thread with Nasir.
She stilled her fingers as she began typing out a message. It was too soon. She’d already fucked up by sleeping with him on the first date. If she wanted to see if Nasir was really something, she needed to play her cards right.
She’d give him a couple days, see if he reached out. See how interested he was, now that they’d already visited the inside of her bedroom.
Cassandra wasn’t in the market to get hurt, but more importantly, she wasn’t in the market to have meaningless flings.
A few moments later, her telephone buzzed. She reached for it, curiosity pacing under her skin, wondering if it might be Nasir.
It was.
“Goodnight, beautiful.”
She read the text over and over again. Just two words that could kick up such a maelstrom of giddiness inside her. She clutched the phone to her chest, burying an excited squeal into the pillow.
5
Cassandra awoke the next morning feeling like a helium balloon floating over the most gorgeous landscape. Everything she looked at had a special glow to it, all the way down to her toothbrush. She grinned into the mirror as she brushed her teeth.
Today was going to be awesome.
Post-coital bliss sure was a thing, one that she’d forgotten about entirely.
She hummed as she headed into the living room to start the work day. Every Friday she worked from home, and she belted out her favorite guilty pleasure Rihanna song while she waited for the computer to load.
Clicking through the start-up windows, she navigated to her e-mail client. A long string of e-mails awaited her, and one was marked with the red exclamation point. It was from her boss, with the subject: “New client!!! Interesting case, you’ll be perfect for it!”
Cassandra smiled, standing up to go brew some coffee. She loved being hand-picked for client cases; in the afterglow of an amazing orgasm, she also wanted to relish feeling chosen. Her career goals included being the dependable one, the matchmaker everyone turned to for advice. And she was already well on her way.
Cassandra made a cup of coffee in her single-serve Keurig, humming vehemently, wondering what Nasir was doing right then. When she settled into her seat once more, she hugged the mug of coffee close to her mouth as she scanned the urgent e-mail.
Her boss had a quick note at the top of the new client profile: “Hey Cassandra! New case came in a few days ago, a high-profile client looking for a business-oriented match. I just went ahead and assigned it to you, because I know you’ll love the challenge!!!”
Per her protocol, Cassandra saved the name for the last when reviewing a case. Something about reading a person’s responses before attaching them to a name allowed her to better understand them. She could always guess gender correctly, but also sometimes profession and background. Finding out the name was a cherry on top—the final piece of the puzzle.
Mr. CEO. She scrolled through the responses, finding the applicant a bit dry and narrow-minded. He wanted a business partner, or he wanted a trophy wife. Family was important, but his standard of living was just a bit more important—to her, it sounded like he wanted a rich wife who was the CEO of her own company who would also bake cookies with his mother on holidays. Some of the answers contradicted each other, revealing a possible internal conflict on the applicant’s part. At thirty-five, he seemed well-off and financially secure. Excitement licked through her as she neared the end of the profile, eager to attach a name to the personality.
Her eyes flicked up to the top, where her thumb covered the name space. She yanked it aside, gobbling up the name.
Nasir Azhar.
She blinked once and then twice. She reread it so many times that her vision went blurry. Just to make sure this wasn’t a joke—that she was one hundred percent understanding this correctly. That her amazing night hadn’t actually morphed into some sick alternate reality during her sleep.
Nasir Azhar.
She drew a shaky breath, gaze drifting to the far wall. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was just a freakish coincidence, the kind that arrives like a drunk brute to the party and turns over tables and kicks in the china cabinet.
She clicked onto the photo image and grimaced. There he was. The gorgeous Lebanese businessman, the delectable star of their amazing night together, her memory of whom was entirely different from the man presented in this profile.
He had been her client since 4:34 p.m. the day before.
Which meant their entire date had been one huge breach of ethics…not to mention a total waste of time.
She ran through the profile again, gobbling up the words more intensely, applying each one specifically to Nasir. Dismay uncoiled inside her, slick and insidious. Whoever this man was—if he was truly the Nasir she knew, or vice versa—was not a fit for Cassandra. Which meant that anything that might transpire between them was doomed to fail.
Maybe he’d been showing her a carefully executed façade, something to simply woo her, get her into bed. If he’d been signing up for matchmaking services, roughly since the evening they met, then apparently he knew exactly what he wanted, and Cassandra was just some fun diversion.
She buried her face in her hands, letting the sorry truth sink into her. Getting her hopes up was the dumbest thing she could have done. She’d even tried to circumvent the hurt by preventing him from spending the night, but still the disappointment found a way through.
She didn’t want to be a trophy wife, and she didn’t want to be his business partner. She wasn’t even sure of what she wanted, but it sure as hell wasn’t anything his profile called for.
Cassandra set her mug down gently, all of the bliss from the previous night crashing into ugly shards. She’d been so hopeful and excited for a mere twelve hours, and now it was an ugly shadow, something scarred and shameful. How had she let herself get so excited?
She and Nasir would never fit, not in a million years.
The profiles never lied. Furthermore, there was no way she could work the case of a man she’d slept with. No matter how mind-blowing or earth-shattering the sex had been…it would be completely wrong of her to now act as his matchmaker.
She heaved a sigh, clicking ‘Reply’ on the e-mail. She’d tell her boss she just couldn’t do it now—the less detail, the better—and ask that Laura take it instead.
And she wasn’t sure which stung more: telling her boss that her confident choice had been mistaken for some reason, or finding out that the man she’d been very secretly and quickly falling for had turned out to be the biggest dead-end of all time.
By Monday morning, Nasir felt considerably uneasy. Like a door had been left ajar inside him, allowing a cold gust inside, but he couldn’t find out where to shut the door.
The entire weekend, he’d waited for Cassandra to respond to one of his various texts. They’d ranged from sexy to sweet to cloying, all of them inviting a response or another meet-up. Already he missed her scent, the feel of her pressed up to him, the way her kisses danced feather-light over his forehead in her bed.
But something was off. And after Monday came and went, he feared he’d never get his response.
Each sound from his phone made him hopeful that Cassandra had finally gotten around to responding. Maybe some last-minute emergency stole her from regular communication, and now would begin the barrage of catch-up texts.
Around six p.m. Monday, his phone dinged with a new e-mail. The sender was unknown by the e-mail client, but bore an interesting subject line: Introducing your Love Detective.
He sighed, swiping into the e-mail, finding a
peppy welcome message from the matchmaker at the agency his mother had chosen. It included general information about the process and suggested a meeting time for him to review potential matches with his so-called Love Detective, someone named Laura.
He huffed, swiping his phone off. Maybe the Love Detective could figure out why Cassandra hadn’t responded even once to his texts. He’d thought ghosting was something reserved for college kids, not what a mature, put-together woman in her mid-20’s would do.
All those countless sheets of probing questions and tireless entry fields requesting him to detail his ideal future…he could barely remember what he’d filled out, but maybe they were his real shot at finding a suitable match, like his mother had suggested all along.
6
Cassandra nibbled on her bottom lip as she stared at the plastic bag on her countertop. It was eight a.m., and now would be the best time, but she needed to start the workday. Maybe bad news was better saved for the weekend. So she could unwind and fret and cry into the couch, if the result turned out as she feared.
The bag held a pregnancy test. She’d bought it the night before, just as a precaution. She’d been mostly sure that her unprotected sex with Nasir more than two weeks ago had fallen outside of her fertile window, but it was better to be sure. The nausea yesterday morning was certainly new, even though that was probably just a random sensitive stomach, but still, it was better to check. Just to see.
So she could find out if that super sexy, totally not-supposed-to-happen one-night stand really was about to change her life forever.
She turned away from the island and headed for her open laptop on the coffee table. Work called. The test could wait. Besides, maybe she wasn’t quite ready to know. Maybe she should suck up her last moments as a non-mother single woman.
You’re being histrionic. You’ve probably just been stressed from work.
As soon as she sat down, her phone vibrated with a call. She picked it up, half sorry that Nasir’s messages had stopped sometime the week before. But what did she expect? A man would only try so long before he realized he was being ignored.
Guilt flashed through her but she snuffed it. Social awkwardness was not her favorite thing—she’d done a doozy with Nasir, but there was no other way. What could she tell him? Hey, I think you’re great, but I secretly saw your confidential file and know we’re woefully mismatched; also I think you used me for sex. Also, bye. No. It was easier to ignore and wait it out. She’d rejected him, he’d gotten the message. Life moved on.
Even though his memory continued to niggle at her daily.
Laura was calling. Cassandra swiped the phone on, pressing it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Girl, I need your help.”
Laura clicked through her e-mails as she listened. “What’s up?”
“I hate to do this, but…can you take over a meet-and-greet for me?” Laura’s voice betrayed her regret. “I know you passed that Lebanese client to me, but I just can’t make it today. I’ve been puking since last night, and there’s no end in sight.”
Cassandra furrowed a brow, anxiety jolting through her. Fuck fuck fuck. “Are you okay? Did you eat something…?”
“I think it’s food poisoning.” Laura sighed. “At any rate, I just can’t make it, but could you? Pretty please?”
Cassandra checked her planner, splayed open to the side of the laptop. She grimaced, shaking her head, like this might convince the universe to stop the cruel joke already. If she said no, she’d have to explain why. “Probably. What time?”
“It’s a café meet-and-greet at two p.m. I scheduled it for The Gathering Grounds, so you’ll have plenty of space to talk.”
Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose. Meet-and-greets were her favorite part of the job. The first chance to meet the client, get a real handle on their wishes and desires, and then begin piecing together the subtle things they’d left out of their profile. But a meet-and-greet with Nasir? Pure torture.
Cassandra gnawed at the inside of her lip, willing the words to emerge. “I got you, girl.”
Laura groaned. “Thank you! I owe you so much. If he’s good, you can have him back—just take my commission.”
“Thanks.” Not.
“All his recent files are on the server—I’ll send you the link. But it shouldn’t be a big deal—I’m sure you saw the original profile anyway. Just a CEO and his overbearing mother.”
“Ah. My specialty.”
Laura laughed, and then groaned. “Oh, the stomach spams. God, let them stop.”
“Go lie down. Drink water or something.” Cassandra’s heart pounded in her ears, desperate to find some last-minute way out of this. Maybe she could come down with a stomach virus, and pass the case off to her boss. But no, that would never work. Turning down work twice would not go over well.
“If only it didn’t make me puke,” Laura said miserably. “I’ll send you these links before the next wave hits me. Thanks a ton, girl—I really do owe you.” Cassandra hung up the phone, slumping against the couch. If anything, she’d learned something new that morning: anxiety made the indigestion worse. There was no backing out of this one. She just needed to take a good long time to organize her game plan.
Cassandra dedicated her whole life to love and successful matches, which was why she knew from a mile away that she and Nasir could never succeed together. Which meant that whatever the results were of that test on the counter…they were for her eyes only.
Nasir’s mother called his cell phone just as he shut the front door of his penthouse. “Hello, Mother.”
“I’m here, son. Waiting downstairs for you.”
Of course she was—she’d been waiting for this day like a grade schooler antsy to take a trip to the moon.
“I’m coming down now, Mother. Be there in a moment.” He swiped his phone off as he stepped into the elevator, adjusting his suit jacket. Work the past couple of weeks had been hellish, but that was partially of his own doing. Certain things needed to be avoided—in particular, the incision left by Cassandra’s inglorious ghosting since their date.
It still smarted, actually—maybe that’s what he got for taking a first date into territory like that. She’d burned him because he’d allowed himself to be burnt. He’d already been falling for her after seeing her twice. What sort of madness was that? Her ignoring his phone calls and texts—that had to be for the best. Work was priority, and she would have only been a distraction. That’s what he continued to tell himself, at least.
The elevator doors whooshed open on the main floor of his building, and he strode out, nodding at the receptionist. The lobby of the apartment building was a clean, simple transition between home and the real world, and he couldn’t help but be thankful to the architects who designed it. Only a little bit of the Los Angeles beyond was visible through the front lobby, like the building shielded its residents from seeing too much, from leaping too quickly. Beyond the front doors, his car idled at the curb, his mother no doubt behind the tinted back window.
The front doors slid open as he approached, and he hurried to the back seat. At the other side of the car, his mother sat primly, smiling like a minx.
“There you are. Looking handsome as always.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek as he settled in. “My eldest son. My pride and joy.”
He couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face as the car rolled into motion. “Now, now, Mother.”
“This is a big day for you.” She patted his arm. “I’m very hopeful this will go well.”
He adjusted the watch on his left wrist, watching the passing traffic with distant awareness. “Yes, well, if it doesn’t, we should demand our money back. I’ve filled out enough questionnaires and quizzes to find at least three soul mates.”
Safiya tutted. “Come, now. That’s important information. They use it to match you well.”
“I guess I’ll be the judge of that.” Cassandra crossed his mind, like a meteor streaking across the night sky. Almost three w
eeks later and she wasn’t gone from his memory yet. Maybe she’d never fully disappear.
“Yes.” Something in her tone told him that Safiya thought maybe she’d be the judge of that too. “I’m sure they’ll have lovely selections. I bet your wife is waiting for you!”
“We’re not meeting the actual women today, remember. Just looking at their profiles. Making the selection.”
Safiya waved him off, like he was being irrational. “Yes, I know. But they might have found her already. She could be looking at your profile across town tonight, as well.”
Nasir shook his head. “When did you become such a romantic?”
“I’m not.” Safiya’s ruby red lips thinned into a line.
Their destination was a hip café known for its ample gathering space and out-of-this-world lattes. The matchmaker had suggested it as a low-key, late-lunch option, which of course reminded him of Cassandra again, and the precious quirk in her lips when she was about to make a joke or the way she’d responded to his restaurant selection.
After a few moments of silence, Safiya turned to him again. “Did you disclose the family business in the profile?”
He swallowed an annoyed sigh. “I filled everything out exactly as we discussed. Don’t worry.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I just don’t want anyone trying to take advantage of you.”
Safiya had personally reviewed all the interview and profile questions prior to him receiving them, so she’d had plenty of suggestions as to how to fill out each section. And in the wake of Cassandra’s ghosting, her direction seemed wisest: find somebody who could match him in business. It seemed terribly sterile and boring, like the safest sort of stock trade. Somewhere down the road it would pay off. Surely, he could come to love someone after enough years, and maybe even children, together. Even if it didn’t include the magnetic tug surrounding Cassandra.