My stomach goes from uneasy to What the fuck just happened?
I guess it’s time to get this shit show started.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Camryn
“Are you all right?” Anna asks when I sit down beside her at the banquet table. “You’re acting funny this morning.”
“Funny how?” I hope she doesn’t suspect anything. I have too much dignity to tell her that I fucked New York’s most eligible bachelor last night, a man who happens to be our client.
God, I’m a fucking idiot. I can’t believe I thought he was going to call the whole thing off and profess his love for me. I was dead wrong on that one.
“Like you have a stick up your ass or something,” Anna says, watching me over the edge of her paper coffee cup.
Her words sting, and I let out a slow exhale. “Let’s just get on with this.” Time to put on your big-girl panties and deal.
“Couldn’t agree more. It’s Saturday, and we’re working. The sooner we hook him up, the better. And then we can go home, right?”
“Yep.” Grabbing my phone, I dial the number for the hotel’s event manager, who’s waiting for my signal before opening the floodgates downstairs. “We’re ready. Send ’em in.”
Anna rubs her hands together. “Here goes nothing. Let’s get that sexy Brit married off.”
From our perch at the table, we have a clear view of the escalator, and suddenly here they come, one after the next.
Blond. Brunette. Redhead. Busty. Thin. Young. Old. And everything in between.
Our large printed signs are clear and seem to work. The first women form a line behind our banquet table, a line that soon snakes around the entire perimeter of the massive ballroom behind us.
It’s go time.
The first woman in line is standing directly in front of me, watching me with an impatient smile.
My underarms begin to sweat as the significance of this moment sinks in. Sure, there a few whack jobs here, but for the most part this is an amazing group of girls. By and large, they’re educated, beautiful, and looking for love. Or at least they’re ready to put their best foot forward for a shot at marrying a millionaire.
It’s disheartening to see the idea of marriage boiled down to this. A competition for who has the prettiest smile and can wow Sterling with her wit and charisma.
Anna elbows me in the ribs and clears her throat. “Camryn.”
I blink and realize that the line is forming, dozens deep, and I’ve just been staring off into space.
“Hi. Name, please.”
“Brittany Fallon.”
My thumb slides along the head shots in the folder until I reach the F’s. We required everyone to preregister with us online, so we at least have the basic information and a head shot at our fingertips. I pull her shiny photo from the stack and appraise her again.
Our informal meet and greet with the woman is really just a sanity check. We’re making sure that she’s a normal girl, someone Sterling might be interested in meeting. The info for the women he likes will be placed into a separate folder, and they’ll get a follow-up one-on-one date next week.
I can’t even imagine continuing to work on this campaign. Fuck my bonus. My sanity isn’t worth it. I might have to ask Anna to take over. I don’t want to look in that folder and see the glossy head shots and bright smiles of the women, the hope in their eyes at getting the shot to marry a millionaire.
“And what makes you think you’d be a good match with our bachelor?” I ask.
A slow smile spreads across Brittany’s lips. “I’m twenty-four with a good job, and ready for a great guy. Plus I love sports, fucking, and beer.” She giggles.
“Sold.” Anna chuckles. “Head down the hall just past the tree. Sterling will be waiting for you.”
What the fuck, Anna?
I roll my shoulders, having no idea what’s gotten into me today. Anna, normally bubbly and fun, always makes me smile, but today I want to hit her in the face with a two-by-four.
That was not a proper screening process. For all we know, Brittany could have a pickax in her purse. And the girl is busty and cute, and she just told us she’s basically a walking wet dream. She’s not someone I want anywhere near Sterling.
I watch Brittany strut down the long hall until she reaches the door to Sterling’s conference room. A hotel staffer is positioned outside for security purposes, and to make sure only one girl is let in at a time. He’s been instructed to give a courtesy knock at the five-minute mark, and to open the door at ten minutes to make sure the mini-dates don’t run long.
Nausea rolls inside me as I watch the first woman slip inside the door. I can just picture the sultry smile on her red-painted lips, her come-fuck-me eyes as she bats her lashes at him.
Anna has to clear her throat again for me to realize I’m once again staring off into space as the next girl stands before us.
We manage to get through a couple more in line, sending some to stand in the line that’s now formed outside Sterling’s door. A few we sent back downstairs, as they weren’t a match.
Brittany emerges from down the hall, done with her mini-date, and waves her middle finger straight at me and Anna. “Good luck getting him married off. He’s obviously hung up on somebody else.”
I barely have time to process her words because we’re so slammed with applicants. Bodies are packed wall to wall, and the line grows longer and longer. I’m sweaty and growing agitated, and we’re barely ten minutes into our day.