Page 107 of Failure to Match

Just a stupid little crush that would go away in no time.

I cleared my throat again. The sooner I gave Minerva the information she needed, the sooner I could bolt. “All I’m trying to say is that Jackson’s original profile was so heavily flawed that it was actively working against us, which is why we had such a hard time finding him a suitable match. A new one has been set up and will be updated frequently as I gather more data over the upcoming weeks. For now, our focus will be to find someone compatible with what we currently have on file for him and, more importantly, someone who either shares his views on romance and relationships, or is at least open to them.”

Jackson was not going to be happy with someone who believed in fairy tale endings, soulmates, or any of the more idealistic notions of romance and relationships. Forcing him to fall in love was never going to work. He would be much better off with a great friend, a partner in crime that he enjoyed spending time with—someone who shared his beliefs and didn’t hold any long-term expectations that wouldn’t be met.

Jackson marrying someone whodidbelieve in those things would be nothing short of a living nightmare. He was charming, attractive, funny, caring, and so many other secret, wonderful things. It would be so easy for his wife to fall in love with him, and to develop a foolish, desperate hope that one day, if she tried really hard and showed him just how good she could be to him, he’d maybe love her back.

Then their one-year contract would end, and she’d be forced to leave him. Or worse, she’d beg and plead and convince him to stay married to her, and he’d force her to sign a postnup agreement, detailing his plans to get “his needs met elsewhere.” Because twelve months was long enough for the lust and attraction to wear off. Twelve months was long enough for him to get bored of her.

He’d shatter her heart and step all over it, and she’d have no one to blame but herself. Because he’d told her exactly who he was and exactly what he wanted, and when people did that, you were supposed to listen.

You couldn’t force someone to change for you.

I wasn’t a fool.

“I think that’s the most important part,” I reiterated. “Because he has such specific and unconventional views of romance, the two of them need to be on the same page about their expectations and what they hope to gain from the relationship. Otherwise, we’d be setting them up for disappointment in the long term. It wouldn’t work.”

Jackson was drilling holes into the side of my face with the intensity of his gaze. My eyes may have been on Minerva, but I could only see him.

I was aware of his every movement, the harshening rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers had slowly curled into fists on his lap. I couldn’t decipher the expression he was wearing though, and it was becoming excruciatingly difficult not to look.

“All of this is detailed in the weekly progress report I’ve drawn up, a finalized copy of which will be emailed to both your team and Jackson’s first thing Monday morning. But there is one other pressing matter I’d like to discuss in person,” I went on. “I realize that my original recommendation was for Jackson to receive intensive coaching on how to conduct himself on dates, however, I no longer believe that’s warranted or necessary.There are a few things we’ll need to go over, but they’re brief and can be covered in under an hour. I strongly suggest we hold off on anything further until after his first date.”

Minerva rolled her lips, studying me. “And what then? We’d discussed supervised meetings for him to ensure he doesn’t… That everything runs smoothly.”

Babysitting. She was concerned he’d intentionally throw the dates again.

“I can accompany him to the first one.” I really didn’t want to, but I’d do it. “If it goes the way I suspect, he won’t require further shadowing unless he specifically requests it. In fact, if my presence continues to be a distraction to Jackson at the office, we can also cut back on the work shadowing a week early, and I should be able to move out by?—”

“No.”

I looked at him then. His tone demanded it.

“Pardon?” Minerva said.

Jackson held my gaze, eyes narrowing. “No. I want the coaching, the shadowing, and all of the handholding I was threatened with when this whole nightmare started. You’re not moving out until the agreed-upon thirty days are over.”

Shocked. Silence.

Imogen had stopped shuffling and flipping her cards, Minerva was gaping at her nephew like he’d produced lightning out of thin air, and I couldn’t so much as breathe. He wouldn’t let me.

“You… youwanther to stay?” Minerva asked.

“You’re forcing me to get married.” He made no effort to temper the bitter resentment dripping from his voice as he peeled his gaze away from mine. “You’re forcing me to thenstaymarried for a year, and I’m relatively certain that, at some point, you’ll also force me to produce a child to secure the precious familial line you’re so concerned with. I no longer havea fucking choice in the matter, so my only option is to, at the very least, find someone that doesn’t make me want to set myself on fucking fire. The more information Jamie has, the higher her chances of success are going to be. Wouldn’t you agree?”

That was the bar he’d set.Thatwas his expectation of marriage. He simply wanted someone that wouldn’t make him want to set himself on fire.

I ripped my eyes away from him, ignoring the painful throbbing in my chest.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Minerva scoffed with a barely contained roll of her eyes. Harry stirred in her arm, ears twitching. “You have lived a life of sheer privilege, and I simply don’t care what it is youthinkyou are further owed without sacrifice. You’ve studied under the best tutors, attended the best post-secondary institutions money could buy, and been provided with every material thing you could ever want. Millions of people would sacrifice a hell of a lot more than a single year of marriage to switch lives with you. It is not unreasonable for me to ask that you also produce an heir and?—”

“I can have a child without?—”

“You are not having a child out of wedlock,” she snapped. “You of all people should know what happens when the men in this family attempt to raise children without the aid of a proper, loving mother. The cycle ends with you, Jackson. I will not have you repeating what that vain, repulsivebitchand Richard?—”

“I am notmy father!” Jackson roared. His voice ripped through the air, making it ring. Every muscle in his face and neck was taut, his lips rolled back in pure rage.

Imogentsked. “Naughty, naughty,” she cooed happily, grinning down at the table.

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