Failure to Match: An Enemies to Lovers Billionaire Matchmaker Romance
Failure to Match: Chapter 29

I’d lost control of the situation, the week, myself. I’d lost control, period.

I thought I had it. I thought that if I just gave the lust what it wanted, it would eventually subside and leave me alone. That wasn’t what happened.

It’d been a full week, and the “edge” had not worn off. It’d grown into a voracious, all-consuming Goliath, and I was helpless against it. Jackson couldn’t stop touching me, and I couldn’t stop wanting it, needing it, craving it. It was every night, every morning, and still not enough.

On Monday, I’d barely had a chance to close his office door after lunch before he pushed me up against it and dropped to his knees. I was instructed to be “quiet like a good little toy” while he shoved up my skirt, hooked my leg over his shoulder, and ate me out like it was his last day on earth and I was his last requested meal.

Tuesday, he placed me on his desk, wrapped his belt around my wrists, his tie around my mouth, and sucked and licked my breasts until I was a squirming, helpless puddle of need, entirely at his mercy. Then he tortured three orgasms out of me with his fingers before thrusting into me to finish.

Wednesday, he pinned me to the wall, pulled up my skirt, and fucked me from behind. Twice.

Thursday and Friday were the worst offenders.

We didn’t even make it to the office before giving in on those days. I straddled him in the backseat of his town car and took what I needed. There was no kink, no dirty talk, no binding or teasing or torment. My arms were looped around his neck, his hands roamed over my back, and it was… tender. Deep kisses, gentle caresses, shared breaths, fluttering heartbeats, and an alarming amount of eye contact.

Sunday, it all started to catch up with me.

ALICE

Hey.

Can you talk super quick?

Sorry. I know it’s early.

I squint-blinked at the too bright screen, my fingers slow to draft the response.

I’ll call you in five

I locked my phone and, very slowly, attempted to slip out from underneath Jackson’s arm without waking him up. I was unsuccessful.

He grumbled incoherently into my hair and hooked a heavy, muscled leg over my hip, effectively locking me in.

“I need to make a phone call,” I whispered. “It’s for work.”

“Do it here,” he mumbled.

“I can’t. My phone only works on speaker.”

“It does? Why?”

“The pool.”

He hummed but didn’t loosen any part of his hold on me. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“Jackson.”

“I’m sleeping. Won’t listen.”

I sighed. It was a little hard to pretend like I wasn’t smiling, but I think I managed it.

Any sensitive info being discussed? People are around

ALICE

No, all good. I’ll codename existing clients.

I cleared some of the groggy rasp from my throat before hitting the Call button.

She picked up right away. “Hey! So sorry, I know it’s Sunday.”

“It’s okay. What’s up?”

“A couple of things. First, we’ve already got four candidates lined up based on Ripper’s new profile. Great job on that, by the way. Even Vivian didn’t have anything negative to say when we reviewed it. And your report was so detailed, I actually think it pissed her off a little.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled awkwardly. It didn’t help that the compliment made Jackson smile into my hair before placing a kiss on the crown of my head. Almost like he was proud of me.

We needed to have the affection talk again. He hadn’t been listening at all.

“She wants you to confirm a time and place for his first date by tomorrow morning, and says it needs to be on, or before, Wednesday this week. Ripper’s aunt called and demanded it. I think her spiritual something-or-other gave her the timeline.”

“Will do,” I said, ignoring the painful jab that arrowed from my gut to my chest. “I’ll need to brief him on the candidates first, but you’ll have the info by the deadline.”

Jackson wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Great. Second, do you know a guy named Daniel Omori?”

My heart stopped beating for a second as Jackson stiffened to stone against me. “Say that again?”

It was possible we’d both misheard her.

“Daniel Omori,” she repeated. “He’s like a famous sushi chef based in Tokyo? His restaurant is a celebrity hotspot, it pops up on my feed all the time.”

“What about him?” My chest was hammering against Jackson’s bicep. Meanwhile, he’d stopped breathing.

“He called and asked to meet with you.”

I blanked—couldn’t think of what to do or say for an awkwardly long amount of seconds. When the gears finally decided to start turning again, I tried to wiggle out of Jackson’s hold. It was no use.

“Hello? You there?”

“Uh, yup. Still here.” I was staring at the ceiling so I couldn’t see Jackson’s expression, but I swear I could feel the lethality of it.

“Do you know him?”

I licked my lips, fully alert at this point. “We’ve met.”

“Okay, yeah, sounded like it,” she said. “Anyways he called and had a bunch of questions about the Immersive program and asked if you were available.”

Could humans growl? Because Jackson’s chest was vibrating against my arm and emitting a rumbling noise that sounded very predatory. His muscles were starting to flex too, cutting off a good chunk of my airflow as he pinned my body to his.

“What did you tell him?” I asked, pretending like I could still breathe just fine.

“I didn’t speak to him, Vivian did. She told him you’d be available next month.”

I should not have taken this phone call here. If I’d been more awake, I’d have thought better of it. Jackson’s mouth was pressed to the top of my head like it was the only thing keeping him quiet.

But before I could talk my way into hanging up and calling her back, Alice said, “He’s insisting on meeting with you sooner than that, which is why I’m calling. Are you available tomorrow night? He’s in New York reshooting a commercial, but if you’re free he’s willing to fly out after filming wraps up—just needs to know right away so he can book his flight.”

“He wants to fly to Toronto just to talk to me for a couple of hours?”

“Right?” Her voice lit up like she was sharing a particularly juicy piece of gossip. “We offered to set up a virtual meeting, but he kept pushing for dinner. Claimed it’d be easier to discuss the specifics of you relocating to Tokyo in person.”

My head was spinning, struggling to come up with an excuse to get me out of it.

Except… why? Technically, this didn’t mean anything. Technically, it was just a work meeting, and if I did decide to take him on as a client, nothing could happen between us anyway. Not to mention a second Immersive would look pretty solid on my résumé. There was no real reason for me to say no.

Except maybe for one.

“I’m in the middle of an Immersive already. I can’t accept a meeting with a new client.” I was being paid to focus solely on the Sinclair file. That was kind of the whole point.

“Vivian’s making an exception.”

Damn.

“She is?”

“Minerva allowed it from what I gather, so if Ripper gives you a hard time you can direct him to her.”

I tried, I really did. My only other excuse was that I planned to quit at the end of this month but, again, a second Immersive would elevate my résumé and a second bonus wouldn’t hurt, either. I’d have some financial breathing room for once.

My desire to say no was driven by my feelings, not my head.

“Okay,” I said. “If they’ve both cleared it, then sure, I’ll meet with him.”

“Great. I’ll reserve something close to whatever hotel he’s staying at and send you the details.”

We hung up.

My eyes remained glued to the ceiling as my pulse raced. Guilt gnawed at the base of my chest, unwarranted. I was allowed to agree to business meetings. And even if it wasn’t just a meeting, Jackson and I weren’t together, so it shouldn’t have mattered either way.

I waited for a few minutes, hoping he’d break the silence so I could at least get a sense of what he was thinking. When he didn’t give any indication that he was going to speak, I gently cleared my throat again. “So… I think our plans for today just changed. We’ll need to go over the candidates together and discuss some of my observations over the last couple of weeks. I’ll need a bit of time to prep first, though.”

He didn’t respond. He also didn’t loosen his hold on me.

“Can we meet up again at around noon?” That would give me enough time to finish my work and get an hour or two of extra sleep. Jackson hadn’t allowed much of that over the last week. I was exhausted, sore as hell, and could tell just by the minimal amount I’d moved so far that my joints would creak the second I attempted to get out of bed.

It’d been so worth it, though.

I chewed my bottom lip, giving him another minute before asking, “Does that time work for you? If not we can⁠—”

“Why do you like him so much?”

My mouth stuttered and I blinked. What was I supposed to say to that?

“What is it about him?”

I couldn’t remember. I also couldn’t place the shift in his tone. It was new.

“Is it because he has a dog?”

I couldn’t remember.

“Is it his tattoos?”

I couldn’t remember.

“Is it because he’s a sushi chef?”

I still couldn’t remember.

It must have been a combination of all those things at some point, but for the life of me, I couldn’t recall the exact reasons. I hadn’t even known the guy. It didn’t make sense.

“Do you truly believe Imogen was talking about him?” he asked.

“You don’t think any of that stuff is real, remember?” I reminded him gently. “Tarot and spirituality aside, you don’t believe in soulmates or romantic love. You claim it’s all bullshit.” My fingers curled around the duvet, my mouth moving silently for a beat. “Or has your opinion on any of that changed?”

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For a few foolishly optimistic seconds, I thought his silence meant he was considering it. Maybe even grappling with it. I didn’t need him to be on the same page as me, or to feel any of the things I was starting to feel for him. I just needed to know that there was a possibility, no matter how small, that one day he’d⁠—

“No.”

It was firm. Finite. He left zero room for interpretation.

Stupidly—hilariously—my throat thickened, a crack running down my chest. As if his answer hadn’t been entirely expected.

Hope was such a viciously miserable thing sometimes.

When people tell you who they are, when they tell you what they want, believe them. Always believe them.

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it?” I said.

It was official. Going to dinner with Daniel would be a good thing for me—it was exactly what I needed. If nothing else, it would be a much needed reminder that there were men out there that wanted the same things I did.

This time Jackson didn’t stop me when I tried to slip out from underneath his limbs. The crack spread, and I had no one to blame for it but myself. Keeping my head down, my eyes averted, I quietly gathered my clothes and put them on.

“I’ll see you at noon.”

I didn’t wait for a response from him. I just left.

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