Yes, Mistress!

Chapter 2: Her Client

It turned out she wasn’t as sensible as she thought she was. A few hours later, there she was; standing in the parking lot against her better judgment. 

She constantly checked the time in her phone again and again. She could ignore this shady business and head back safely inside but she knew such an opportunity would not arise again. 

She looked up, seeing both Lara and Gabriel peeking worriedly from behind pillars. Lara was strongly against this whole thing, saying that she was crazy. Right now, she was making wild hand movements towards her, pleading with her to come back. Scarlett shook her head, gesturing at them to remain hidden.

Not surprisingly, at 3 p.m. sharp, she saw a black Rolls Royce pull through the driveway, heading in her direction. She clenched the strap of her handbag, her eyes following the windows of the car. Damn it. Tainted black glass. That wasn't good.

She began feeling uneasy. If anything wrong were to happen, at least her best friend and her boss knew what to tell the police about her potential kidnapping. She held her breath, calming her nerves by slowly counting in her head, the spotless car stopping smoothly by her side.

The passenger door clicked open, and she held on it, bending slightly to look inside, seeing a middle-aged gentleman sitting on the other seat. She was slightly startled at the warm luxurious interior. His eyes met hers, “Ms. Sinclair, I presume?” 

Something told her that she could trust him. What other choice did she have at this point? She nodded, her voice involuntarily croaking, “Yes, it’s me.” 

“Come on in.” 

She hesitated for a second, glancing at Gabriel who gave her a reassuring thumb up while Lara ran her finger across her neck, suggesting death.

Ignoring her, she slipped inside, closing the door behind her. The moment she did so, the car started driving again. The man didn’t speak again until they were on the main road. “Take us on a lovely trip, Luca.” 

She couldn’t place his accent. Swedish… or French? “Very well, monsieur.” French, that would be. He pressed a button at the side and a divider pulled up between the driver and them, giving them the luxury of privacy. 

Her phone buzzed and she caught sight of the text from Lara: Are you still aliveee? She promptly shoved the device back in her bag, calming herself.

The man reached for the wine in the ice bucket, popped it open as he gave her a reassuring smile, “I apologize for the short notice. I’m Silas Kir.” 

“Enchanté!” 

His eyes twinkled in delight and he let out a hearty laugh, “We have much to discuss but before that, thank you for agreeing to this meeting. You have the cheque with you?” 

While she rummaged through the black envelope, looking for it, he poured themselves two glasses of wine and he set them on the small outstretched table in between them.

He took out his silvery fountain pen from his front pocket and she watched how he elegantly signed it, filling it in before handing it back to her, “As promised in my letter, here you go. All we speak in this car remains confidential. I need your utmost discretion. I have your word?”

She was rather perplexed. $10,000… just for talking? She had thought it would have been for the entire job. It must be more serious than she thought. She cleared her throat, instinctively reaching for the wine glass, “You have my word, yes.” 

His eyes twinkled playfully, “I should not be worried about your friends who were hiding and clicking pictures of my car, should I?” 

She reddened, mortified that he had noticed, “Nothing to worry about, I assure you.”

“Bien. I’ll jump straight to the point then. I want you to use your matchmaking skills to search for a suitor for my daughter. I believe you’re the only one fit for this task.”

She sipped into the red wine, letting the delicious flavor roll over her tongue, “What makes you think that?” He frowned slightly, as if pensive, “You have a gift in bringing strangers together. There's 38 successful matches in your count."

She hummed, “The thirty-ninth is on the way." 

"You have dealt with difficult clients, oui? There’s no one more difficult than my daughter. She’s terribly picky. Selfish. Stubborn. A very arrogant child.”

She smiled slowly. That was the kind of challenge she liked. Surely a rich female heiress wouldn’t be much different from the typical male millionaires she has found matches for. 

Silas sighed heavily, exhausted from the thought of it, “She’s approaching her thirties and she has shown no interest in marriage. I figured it was time to call an expert, and that’s where you come in, dear.”

She nodded, “I’m honored you chose me.” He laughed, raising his glass making it lightly cling to hers, celebrating her, “Your success rate speaks for yourself, Scarlett. It was Hollywood film producer, Tyson Mayes who recommended you to us.”

Mayes was one of the first celebrities who had been her client. Lots have followed after him. She chuckled, pleasantly surprised. "Ah, I see." She slyly said, reaching in her bag, taking out her file and a pen, “Then, I better keep up my reputation, don’t you think?” 

Silas threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly, appreciating her confidence, “Let’s get to work then. Shall we?”

She smiled, hovering her pen above a blank page, “Indeed. I just need a basic profile first. Might we start by your daughter’s name?” “Cattleya.” 

She nodded, neatly jotting it down before pausing, her eyes widening. She froze for a few seconds as the information registered. He wasn’t talking about who she thought it was, was he? “You said your family name is Kir? My client is Cattleya Kir?!”

Chief executive of Kir Technologies, billionairess, business tycoon, influential innovator, philanthropist, president of the elite Kir Institute of Technology, Forbes’ businesswoman of the year for four consecutive years but most importantly, one of America’s most eligible bachelorettes right now.

Silas drained his wine before reaching for the bottle to fill his glass again, dryly asking, a bit anxious, “That wouldn’t be an issue?” 

She shook her head, a confident smile plastering on her face, feeling thrilled, “No. Not at all… In fact, I can’t wait to get started on her case.”

“It’s going to be challenging, Scarlett but rewarding. Have a look at this.” He reached for a black file by his side, handing it to her.

A contract. She scanned through it, understanding the terms. Discretion was of course mentioned again. She paused at a paragraph. During the task, she would have to provide him the arrangement of each date in advance. That could be done. It was part of the process after all.

Ah, there was a deadline! She asked, tapping her pen on a specific line, “What happens if I fail to get her a suitor within three months?” “Simple. You don’t get paid.” 

She frowned, not quite agreeing with that, “I apologize but I will be dedicating resources for this search. I won’t be doing this for free.”

“Keep reading.”

She took another sip of the wine, scrutinizing the next paragraphs until she saw it. She asked, as it seemed unbelievable, “Alright… So, you will pay the quotation I ask for the service whether I am successful or not?” 

“Yes.” 

“And in the case where I am successful, I will personally receive one million dollars to my private account?!” 

“That sums it all up. Do you have any other questions?”

She thought about it, her heart racing. She was certain there was something he wasn't telling her. She better not meddle in it for now. There were always certain complications involved in rich families. Her intuition told her that this man had a strained relationship with his daughter. This wasn't making things any easy, but this offer was too good to be passed up. 

“Three months is quite a short time to convince someone to get married.” 

“It is. That’s why you’re getting rewarded as such. Any other doubts?”

“Not that I can think of...” 

“Perfect. I'll give you a day to think about it.”

She was stupefied. What was there to think about? Only a fool would refuse that. One million, if managed properly, would give her the freedom she has been craving for.

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