By the next morning, Lila had a plan.
A bad plan.
A crazy plan.
A plan so flimsy it might as well have been held together with duct tape and prayers.
But a plan, nonetheless.
She stood in front of her tiny mirror, adjusting the neat little blouse she'd borrowed from her roommate.
Today wasn't about looking cute.
Today was about looking professional — as professional as someone on a half-baked matchmaking mission could.
Grabbing her cheap tote bag, she marched out the door and headed toward Cross Enterprises.
Step One: Get to know Damon Cross better.
How else could she find someone to fall in love with him?
Of course, the fact that just being near him made her blood pressure spike was a minor issue she chose to ignore.
The morning at Cross Enterprises started like every other:
Controlled chaos, people buzzing around in sharp suits and louder attitudes.
Lila headed straight for Damon's office.
The new receptionist — a pretty brunette who looked like she could kill a man with her high heels — barely blinked as Lila passed.
Apparently, being labeled "Damon's Personal Assistant" gave her free rein.
She knocked once and entered without waiting for permission.
Damon was behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on his nose as he flipped through reports.
God help her, he looked unfairly good for someone who was trying to make her life hell.
He didn't look up.
"You're early."
"I'm motivated," Lila chirped, dropping her tote onto the chair across from him.
"And I have an exciting agenda for today."
Damon finally glanced up, his gaze cool and amused.
"Does it involve you quitting?"
"Nope."
She beamed.
"It involves you dating."
The look he gave her could have curdled milk.
"No."
"Yes," she said cheerfully.
"No," he repeated.
"You agreed to work with me," she reminded him.
"I agreed to tolerate your existence," he corrected. "I never said anything about playing house."
Lila crossed her arms.
"You're lonely."
He actually barked a short laugh.
"I have twelve subsidiaries, eighty thousand employees, and four offshore accounts. I'm not lonely. I'm busy."
"Exactly!" Lila said triumphantly.
"You're so busy with your empire that you forgot to make room for anything else. Like joy. Or... butterflies."
Damon stared at her like she had grown two heads.
"Butterflies?"
"You know," Lila said, waving her hands.
"The feeling you get when you meet someone and your stomach does that swooshy thing—"
"I don't have time for swooshy stomachs," Damon said coldly.
"Exactly why you need me!" Lila declared.
"I'll do all the legwork. Screen candidates. Set up meetings. All you have to do is show up."
He closed the file he was reading and leaned back in his chair, eyeing her like she was a very annoying new species.
"And if I refuse?"
Lila smiled sweetly.
"I guess I'll have to move into your office until you change your mind."
For a long moment, Damon didn't speak.
Then, to her shock, he leaned forward, steepling his fingers.
"Fine," he said slowly.
"You want to play games? Let's play."
Lila blinked.
"I'll go on one date," he said, voice silky and dangerous. "You pick the girl. You arrange everything. If it's a disaster — and it will be — you drop this ridiculous project."
Lila hesitated.
One shot? That was... a lot of pressure.
But she straightened her spine.
Hart girls don't back down from a challenge.
"Deal," she said.
A slow, wicked smile spread across Damon's face.
"Good luck, Matchmaker."
Later that afternoon, Lila sat at her favorite café across the street, a notebook open, tapping her pen furiously.
Okay. Okay, okay, okay.
She needed the perfect candidate — someone beautiful, smart, poised, but also patient enough to handle Damon's charming personality, aka glacier-level coldness.
She flipped open her laptop and started making a list.
Candidate 1: Marissa Gold — elegant, soft-spoken, heir to a publishing empire.
Candidate 2: Hannah Pierce — social media mogul, gorgeous, sweet, way too bubbly for Damon?
She chewed her pen thoughtfully.
Maybe someone like Marissa would work better — refined, traditional, not too clingy.
Yeah. Marissa.
Now... how to convince Marissa to meet a man who looked like he might commit murder if you offered him a second coffee?
Back at Cross Enterprises, Damon stood at his office window, watching Lila scurry across the street with her laptop bag swinging.
He should have been furious.
He should have called security.
He should have frozen her out completely.
Instead, he found himself... curious.
What the hell was she planning?
How long would it take for her to give up and leave him alone?
More importantly...
Why the hell was he already looking forward to seeing her fail?