Page 1 of Save Me the Trouble
Chapter One
Grace
“I’ll absolutely do him.”
Famous last words.
The four other heads in the room whipped around to stare at me, and I cringed, realizing how my confident tone made it sound.Story of my life.
Just what I needed on the day I was promoted.Ok, not technically promoted.More like they fired this crazy cougar, Aleta, for sleeping with clients, and then I was bumped up to take her spot becauseEmbershad too many clients and too little time.
“No. You don’t have enough experience for that,” Molly scoffed, flipping her dark curls over her shoulder.
Her voice was strikingly low. It fit her, though. Big hair. Big boobs. Big mouth. Huge fan of ABBA. Hot TubTime Machine had made quick work of bringing her right out of the seventies. She was also the head profiler and a little territorial about her clients.
Lena and Darcy both looked at me, a glance of sympathy before we all turned to Diane.The boss.
“Are you sure about that, Grace?” Ms. Close asked with a look that made it seem like she’d just smelled bad fish. After only a year of working here, I knew that meant the great matchmaker, Ms. Diane Close, was deciding whether or notshewas sure of what I’d offered.
“She doesn’t even know who he is,” Molly drawled, trying to sound bored rather than worried.
“Of course, I know who he is.” I fought not to roll my eyes. “Killian Crown is more of a household name in Seattle than Christian Gray.”Not for the same reasons, although I was sure the cocky billionaire would like to think it was.
Killian Crown. CEO of the Crown Corporation.
Drop-dead handsome. Richer than Croesus. Emotionally unavailable. The trifecta of red flags.
There was a reason guys like him were single and approaching forty.And it was the reason Embers existed—an exclusive dating site for the ultra-wealthy. To market them as marriageable material and find a woman who was scientifically and statistically likely to be an ideal match.
“You don’t even want to work with clients, so why would you make her his curator? Ourbiggestclient.” Molly was getting worked up now.
Profile curators were assigned to clients to design their dating profiles. We met with them, interviewed them, accompanied them in their day-to-day business schedules, and observed their home life as well as their after-work social events and activities, all to gather the best data to create the ideal profile.
This profile was then run through Lena’s magical software that assessed everything from personalities, lifestyles, and hobbies to sexual preferences, business opportunities, and financial compatibility to generate a list of potential matches. These men didn’t want fortune hunters. Anyone could findthemselves a fortune hunter. We were hired to find them a marital asset whose similarities fostered the chance for love.
Sometimes, the personality traits of the clients weren’t ideal.Sometimes, they were less than ideal.And that was where the curator’s skill really came into play. Wehadto find the good qualities. Wehadto put an attractive…spin…on things that might turn someone away.Cockybecame confident.Workaholicbecame dedicated. The executive summary? We made rich assholes look like Prince Charming in order to find them the most strategic trophy wife.
“Because there’s no one else,” Lena chimed in and leveled Molly with a stare that dared her to protest—dared her to mention that Mr. Crown “preferred” not to work with her.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Molly insisted, looking to Diane. “And if you’d just give me another chance, I’ll explain to Mr. Crown that I wasn’t trying to hit on him.”
Lena snorted, not bothering to hide her reaction. “I think he’d sooner give me a chance than you another one.”
Lena was equal doses of emo and crass mixed in a nymph’s body with her bright pink hair wound up in double buns. She didn’t interact with the clients. We wouldn’t have clients if she did.
“Goddamn, rich pricks. Think their dicks are the best things since sliced bread.”
Yeah, definitely not allowed to interact with the public at all.
Lena was the brains behind the interface of Embers and the analysis it ran on the hundreds of data points of our clients to pair them with their best possible match. It was more than commonalities; it was science and probabilities, patterns and statistics.
It was why people paid lots of money—lots and lots of money—for a membership to Embers. Where your happily ever after was guaranteed.
“Shut up, Lena. You weren’t there.”
“I wasn’t pleased with how his profile was handled last time,” Diane interrupted. “Thankfully, Mr. Crown’s grandmother was very understanding and willing to give us another shot. I have guaranteed that this time there will be no mistakes. Molly, you’re not an option. I can’t risk it.”
I bit my cheek. Dogs whined with less ear-splitting annoyance than Molly.
