Page 106 of Failure to Match

Beside her, Imogen’s mouth quirked. She hadn’t said anything—or even looked up—since we’d arrived. She was just sitting there, shuffling and flipping her cards.

“How so?” Minerva asked.

I shrugged. “He’s taken meetings over the phone, and I’ve looked at relevant, publicly available corporate data.” That all counted. “More importantly, I’ve witnessed how he is with his household staff. It’s told me almost everything I need to know about who he is as a boss. I assume most of the data I’d gather from a regular workweek with him would likely be redundant, though I could be wrong.”

I could feel Jackson watching me from the corner of my eye, but I kept my attention fixed on his aunt.

“What corporate data?” she asked curiously.

“Namely turnover rates and other publicly available information pertaining to employee satisfaction with the CEO. The year before Jackson took over the position, Sinclair Group was grappling with a whopping turnover rate of 27 percent, up 1 percent from the previous year. There were reported issues of widespread dissatisfaction among employees regarding management, company culture, and opportunities for internal growth. Eight months after Jackson took over, that number went down to 20 percent. The year he did an in-depth review of the leadership teams within the organization and removed individuals who had an overall negative impact on culture and morale, it dropped to 14 percent. Last year, he managed to bring it down to 8 percent.”

All three of them were looking at me now. Minerva with her thin brows arched all the way up, Imogen with that amused, knowing smirk still toying at the corner of her painted mouth, and Jackson—I wasn’t sure about him, actually. I could feel his eyes on me but that was about it.

I cleared my throat and straightened my spine. “I did initially question his lack of productivity at the office. I couldn’t wrap my head around how the CEO of an investment company this large could hand off all his work for a full month just because he felt a little inconvenienced. However, after learning about the initiatives Jackson has taken to retain talent and prioritize employee well-being and satisfaction, I’d say it’s impressive. Most companies struggle to cover a month of work for their regular employees, let alone the responsibilities of a CEO. Effective delegation of duties and ensuring there are no gaps in workflow when an employee is indisposed are highly valuable skill sets. I don’t think it’s laziness, I think he’s just incredibly good at his job.”

I was starting to sound defensive even to my own ears. The way Minerva had accused Jackson of slacking over the last weekmade it seem like she was questioning his abilities to lead the company. I may not have seen him actively work, but those numbers didn’t lie.

Her attention slid to Jackson, lingering, assessing. I wondered what she saw that made her brows tick like that. Unless my peripherals were wishful little liars, he hadn’t taken his eyes off me once during my whole speech.

It was a little distracting. I wanted so badly to look at him.

“If I may.” It was Imogen who spoke. Her voice was husky, curious, and surprisingly serene. “What exactly does all of that have to do with finding him a wife?”

Her hands stopped shuffling when a card jumped out of her deck. She flipped it over and placed it next to the one already on the table. A crowned man holding a sword, a crowned woman holding a cup. From where Imogen was sitting, the man was upside down. To me, he was right-side up. Handsome fellow. Great authoritative scowl.

Her mouth twitched again.

I smoothed my palms over my jeans. Something about her secretive amusement was making my stomach squirm. “Jackson is a caretaker at his core and significantly more nurturing than our original data suggested, though I’m not sure he recognizes these qualities within himself.” If he did, then he was actively attempting to hide them from people he didn’t trust. Actions didn’t lie, though. “His first focus as CEO was correcting a culture that had resulted in widespread employee dissatisfaction. His household staff are all extremely well taken care of and most of them have been working for him for well over a decade. That’s all in addition to my own experiences with him over the last week. In my professional opinion, he’s more likely to thrive in a relationship where the quiet nurturing side of him is recognized and appreciated, but not taken advantage of.”

That last part was imperative.

“Your own experiences,” Minerva repeated slowly. I couldn’t tell whether it was a statement or a question.

“That’s correct.”

“Elaborate.”

Imogen was all but laughing to herself now as she flipped card after card, and it was clawing at my confidence. What the hell was so funny? What was she seeing?

“Um…” I blinked away from the table, pulling my thoughts back together. I wasn’t really sure I believed in tarot—or anything occult-related—so her behavior shouldn’t have bothered me so much. “There was an incident last week with some broken glass,” I said, keeping it as vague as possible. “The way Jackson handled the situation, how quick he was to jump in and help, reaffirmed my observations.”

There. A short summary of what had happened without going into any intimate details. Minerva didn’t need to know that he’d carried me out of the room and gently plucked shards of broken glass out of my hair.

My chest squeezed and leaped at the memory, and I had to fight back a smile.

Minerva didn’t look satisfied with the lack of details in my story though, and before she could push for more, I tried to derail her by blurting the first thing that popped into my head. “He’s also significantly more playful than we’d?—”

Imogen burst into a throaty laugh, cutting me off. She muttered something to Minerva in a language I didn’t recognize, her voice brimming with pure glee.

I scanned the cards in front of her again, trying to get even a speck of meaning from them. But all I saw were the people in crowns, two dogs howling up at a moon, a young man with a small sack slung over his shoulder, and two gold chalices. There were no labels, no descriptions, no words. I had no idea what any of it meant.

“Keep going,” Minerva said, pulling my attention back to her.

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for this meeting to end. I wanted out before Imogen saw a whole bunch of things that I didn’t want her to see. How humiliating would it be if the cards showed her all the secret things I wasn’t supposed to be feeling? Oh god, what if shesaid something?

It wasn’t even a big deal.

Everything was under control.

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