Bought For Marriage

At times like these, it was hard to remember that I was a grown man, a powerful VP in the company, and not a little boy about to be disciplined.

“What can I do for you?” I asked dutifully.

“Your mother and I are worried about you,” my father started, and I mentally banged my head against my desk. Here we go again…

“You can’t keep working yourself into the ground, Sullivan. How will you ever find a wife and start a family? I want you to be happy, son.” My mother looked genuinely worried, and out of respect, I didn’t laugh at her old-fashioned notion that I needed a woman to be happy. I had hoped that when my younger sister, Frances, got married to a dentist and promptly produced two-point-five grandchildren, it would get my parents off my back about getting married. It wasn’t like I was their sole hope for grandchildren.

Before I could respond, my father chimed in. “We think you should take a vacation.”

“And—” My mother stopped abruptly when my dad suddenly squeezed her shoulder and shook his head.

“Don’t, Lynn.”

She glared at him and continued. “And, I want you to seek help.”

Dad sighed in resignation and held up in his hands in surrender. “I had nothing to do with this part. I just think you need a vacation. Somewhere tropical with lots of scantily—oof!”

“Malcolm!” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped this time when my mother dug her elbow into his side. Then she dropped her hands into her lap and folded them primly, smiling pleasantly as though she hadn’t done anything at all.

“You think I need to see a shrink?” I asked incredulously.

“Heavens, no,” she scoffed. “I’m talking about a matchmaker.”

I didn’t think my jaw could have hit the ground any faster or harder. “A what?” I sputtered as I dropped heavily into my chair. I had to have heard her wrong.

She reached into the pocket of her lavender pantsuit and produced a card, which she laid on the desk and slowly pushed in my direction. I was at a loss for words, so I simply lifted the card and stared at it.

Luxe Connections.

Discreet matchmaking services.

Julia Connor, Founder, CEO.

“Julia and I went to college together,” my mother informed me. “Her track record is stellar, and she caters to the wealthy and other clientele who are in need of the utmost discretion.”

“Mother, I don’t need help finding a woman,” I grumbled, not sure whether this was funny or insulting.

She snorted derisively, somehow managing to do it elegantly. “I beg to differ, Sullivan. Clearly, you…what is it they say these days? You…suck at this?” My father stifled a chuckle, and I mumbled more curses.

“Anyway,” she powered on. “I made an appointment for you at seven tonight and made sure Kline cleared your schedule.” My assistant and I clearly needed to have a talk about who was in charge around here.

I opened my mouth to argue, but my mother didn’t let me get a word in edgewise as she lectured and cajoled me until I agreed just to escape. She smiled triumphantly and stood. “Good boy.”

With that, she turned and marched from my office, my father following behind and laughing all the way.

I glanced warily around the room as I waited for the receptionist to call me back to Mrs. Connor’s office. It wasn’t what I had expected. I’d been prepared for red and pink walls, hearts and cupids, cheesy wedding announcements, et cetera. But instead, the space was sophisticated and stylish. The colors were muted beiges and blues, with expensive but comfortable furniture and beautiful landscapes adorning the walls. It was welcoming and a little soothing.

“Sullivan?” I looked up from the report I’d been pretending to read to find a tall black woman in a perfectly tailored white suit and matching high heels. Her hair was a waterfall of beautifully curled thin braids hanging down her back, and her sculpted face was highlighted with minimal makeup. She didn’t remotely look her age, but she had an air of experience and intelligence that was hard to ignore. It was clear she wasn’t a woman to be messed with, but at the same time, she exuded a soft femininity that I imagined put many men at ease. I was impressed and could see why she was so successful.

“Mrs. Connor?” I asked as I walked forward.

“Julia, please,” she responded with a genuine smile, holding out her hand. Her shake was firm and confident, making me like her even more. “Please follow me.”

We stepped through from the reception area into a short hallway that ended at a large office with a wall of windows overlooking Central Park. She indicated for me to take a seat, and I settled in one of the matching padded chairs that faced a glass desk and the spectacular view.

Julia rounded the desk and sat in her own chair before folding her hands on the tabletop and taking a moment to eye me up and down. I returned the perusal openly, and that seemed to amuse her.