“Enjoy every second of tonight,” Josie said. She climbed out of the cab and turned around. “Remember. You look lush. You’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”
Holly smiled at the word ‘lush’ and waved.
“Thanks for today. You’re the best.”
“I know,” Josie said with a flick of her hair. She closed the door and stood on the sidewalk; arms laden with bags as she waved over zealously. The taxi pulled away and Holly grew nauseous.
“It’s just another job. I’m not going to do anything embarrassing,” she said to herself, trying to steady her breathing. “Besides, Thatcher will be there. What can go wrong?”
Everything, a small voice in her head whispered.
Holly stood in a line of beautiful looking young women, waiting to sign in. Another day, another mixer. Only this time, she was wearing a figure-hugging yellow dress, and her long, blonde curls fell to the small of her back. No flat, black shoes. Instead, she wore delicate sandals and carried a bedazzled clutch.
Holly recognized more than a few of the other models from other jobs. She watched as the group in front of her talked.
“They’re calling the show ‘Billionaire Bachelors’ and I heard they’re going to choose one of us to be paired with a billionaire.”
“How exciting,” one of the women squealed.
She moved aside, and Holly stepped up to the desk, where a petite woman wearing a dark suit and horn-rimmed glasses gave her the once-over before looking down at a clipboard in her hand.
“Name?” she said dully.
“Holly Barratt.”
The woman scribbled on the clipboard and pointed in the direction of the other woman.
“Go wait there for someone to collect you––Next!” The woman barked the last word, and her voice rang like the bells of Notre Dame inside Holly’s ear drums. She recovered, cradled her clutch, and stood beside a ficus plant, keeping a distance from everyone else.
There was a buzz of excitement in the air as the entry hall filled with models. Not a male was in sight. Holly craned her neck searching the sea of faces for Thatcher, but he was nowhere to be seen either.
“Welcome ladies. Thank you so much for coming. You all look wonderful. My name is Emily Stewart, founder of Find My Companion.”
Holly turned and laid eyes on the most dazzling woman she had ever seen. She was petite, with a figure to die for. Long, sleek, black hair reached her waist and she wore a beige Gucci dress. Emily Stewart had a reputation in the city. She was a British sweetheart, and had set up shop in New York as the most talented matchmaker in the East Coast. Not only that, but she was also well-connected and had impeccable taste.
“Right. We have cameras all set up and they will start rolling as soon as we enter the reception room. So, talk amongst yourselves, smile, and act natural. Remember, we already have your dates, so your job is to have a few drinks and just look like you’re having a great time.”
Emily beamed at the crowd. “Any questions?” she asked. No one made a sound. Holly noticed that half the models were shooting daggers at Emily, while the other half were gazing at her like they had just stumbled on a rare unicorn.
“Come on then. Follow me.”
The models crowded Holly, pushing her forward as they erupted into millions of conversations. Meanwhile, Holly walked along like an island floating in the sea.
The reception room was actually a big hall with lots of small tables and comfortable chairs scattered around. A bar stretched along the entire room and shelves of bottles adorned the walls.
Holly perched on the edge of a bar stool and one of the bartenders handed her a drink.
“Thank you,” she said, picking up the stem glass. If Emily knew about her record, she would have banned Holly from being anywhere near glass. Holly smirked at the thought as she took a sip.
“We have our three bachelors here, and this room full of gorgeous, single ladies. Now we’ll let our singletons mingle and see which one of these beauties catch our bachelors’ attention.” Emily posed in front of a camera crew and delivered her lines perfectly. She stood less than six feet away from Holly. She was so close Holly could smell Chanel No.5.
Three men entered the room and strolled through the groups of women, like a pride of lions observing their prey.
One of the men had burly arms; his biceps were bursting out of the seams of his jacket. The second man had a scruffy beard and a mane of wiry brown hair, which he had pulled back into a bun on the back of his head. Despite his smart shirt and suit pants, he looked completely out of place in the setting.
Holly leaned back to catch a glimpse of bachelor number three. She choked on her drink and almost fell off her stool when she saw that it was William.
Holly lunged forward and grasped a menu from the bar, propping it up to obscure her face as the bachelors walked by. The cameras followed their every move and Holly didn’t dare take a breath. She peeked over the top of the menu and watched William engage in a friendly conversation with one of the women across the room.
Good. He didn’t see me.
Then Holly inwardly laughed at herself. Here she was dolled up; fake lashes and hair flowing free. There was no way William would recognize her.
Seeing him talking to other women sent her stomach into knots, though. She slinked off the stool, smoothed out her dress and edged away, heading for the exit.
“Where are you going?” murmured one of the camera crew. She was a small woman. Holly was head and shoulders taller. And all that was standing in the way of her freedom was this camerawoman. She figured if she needed to, she could take her down.
“I have to go
