Failure to Match: An Enemies to Lovers Billionaire Matchmaker Romance

Once again, I knew it was coming. Yet, once again, I flinched when the crimson leather folder slapped the oak table.

I’d never get used to it.

“Open it.”

My chin remained tucked as I did, unsurprised to find the photo of me and Jackson from last night. The evidence was irrefutably damning. I had no way of explaining why we were standing so close, why he was cupping my face so tenderly, why I was gazing up at him with so much love and devastation and heartbreak.

It was painfully obvious. A major line between me and Jackson had been crossed, and Vivian was going to skin me alive for it. She was pacing back and forth, seething silently while she plotted her revenge.

I didn’t blame her.

If Miray made good on her threats, then by noon today, this picture will have circulated through every circle that mattered in high society, and the outcome wasn’t going to be pretty. Becoming physically or emotionally involved with a client was sacrilege; Vivian had a PR nightmare on her hands, and it was all my fault.

Oh, and since my actions were in direct violation of my employment contract, there was also a good chance I’d be served with a lawsuit. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t saying anything. Maybe her counsel had advised against it.

I’d made one poor decision after another, and now it was time to pay the piper.

When she finally stopped pacing and twisted on her heel to glare at me, I braced myself. But before she could start to curse and shout and berate, her assistant knocked on the door.

The Sinclairs were here.

I kept my eyes cast down as the crisp taps of Minerva’s heels entered the room; I lowered them even farther when Jackson walked in behind her. We hadn’t talked much last night after… everything. He’d tried, but I just couldn’t. I knew I was about to lose everything, he was still drunk, and I just needed to cry and spiral in peace. So, I’d left the restaurant and hopped into a cab back to my own place.

I also may have ignored all of his calls. And texts. And emails. They’d still been coming in periodically by the time Vivian’s email hit my inbox at 4:49 a.m.

I’d arrived at the office by 5:30, per her request, then waited for over four hours until she stormed in with the folder.

From the sneaky texts Alice had sent me, Vivian had been in back-to-back meetings with the heads of PR, HR, and Legal all morning. Apparently, she’d also intended to meet with the Sinclairs privately before speaking to me, but Minerva had insisted on my presence.

Not five minutes after Alice had sent the last update, Jackson had texted again.

Don’t say anything to anyone, especially if lawyers are present. Wait for me. I’m coming.

I hadn’t responded then, and I couldn’t look at him now. If I did, there was a chance I’d start to cry again. I was a fucking mess.

“Minerva, Jackson.” Vivian’s tone was curt, professional, and laced with rage. “I’m glad you could make it. Please, have a seat.”

There were eight chairs placed evenly around the table, yet Jackson chose the one to my left, nudged it way closer than necessary, and took a seat beside me. My shoulders, spine, heart—everything went stiff.

I could feel the holes Vivian’s wrath was boring into the side of my face. As though I’d made Jackson’s seating choice for him.

She cleared her throat and pulled out her own chair. “Firstly, I’d like to offer you both a sincere apology for everything that has transpired.” Her fingers intertwined on the table, her lips pressing together once to form a thin line of disappointment. “I’m embarrassed by the lack of professionalism displayed by certain members of my team, and I’d like to assure you that appropriate measures are being taken to hold the involved parties accountable.”

Okay, so her plan was to talk about me like I wasn’t in the room—got it.

“Regarding the most recent allegations, an internal investigation is being conducted as we speak. Jamie will be meeting with HR shortly after this meeting, as well as⁠—”

“What allegations?” Jackson cut in coolly. His knee kept nudging mine under the table like it was attempting to communicate with me through Morse code, and every time I tried to twist my leg away, he corrected it by moving closer. At this rate, he’d be fully pressed to my side before the meeting was over.

Vivian hesitated, but Jackson wouldn’t let it go. “What is she being accused of, exactly?”

That protective tone wasn’t doing me any favors. I nudged his thigh with my knuckles in silent warming, but it backfired catastrophically. The second he was presented with the opportunity, he snatched my hand, threaded his fingers through mine, and gave me a comforting squeeze before loosening his grip.

If I wanted to, I could’ve easily slipped away. Instead, my fingers lingered. I was emotionally drained, stressed as all hell, and it felt… honestly it was really comforting. Almost like we were in this together. A team.

I squeezed his hand back and, in response, he caressed my skin with his thumb.

Vivian’s expression was strained as she regarded Jackson. “Miray sent me a photo of the two of you last night at Rouge.”

“I’m aware,” Jackson said. “What I’d like to know is what, exactly, Miss Paquin is being accused of.”

“Is this it?” Minerva reached for the leather folder laid open in front of us, careful not to disturb Harry, who was peacefully asleep in her other arm. “I’m not sure what she’s doing wrong, either.”

Vivian’s mouth stuttered, clearly at a loss. “We have very clear-cut and strict policies regarding our consultants engaging in any sort of inappropriate behavior with our clients, and Jamie⁠—”

“She’s not even touching him,” Minerva pointed out before pushing the folder aside.

I mean… yeah, my arms were loose at my sides, all sad and defeated, but he was cradling my face in his hands like it was something precious. Everything about our body language and the way we were looking at each other screamed inappropriate workplace conduct. There was no defending it.

“That’s because my affections for Jamie have been unrequited,” Jackson said. “She’s likely turning down another one of my proposals in the picture. I can’t quite remember. I’ve asked her to marry me so many times, it’s becoming difficult to keep track.”

WHAT?

Vivian blanched. “I’m… I’m sorry?”This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

He didn’t miss a beat. “She’s turned me down on every occasion. It’s been a very upsetting experience. I’m rather crushed over it, to be honest.”

I gaped up at him. Was he seriously doing this?

Vivian’s initial shock quickly morphed into disbelief. “Mr. Sinclair, as admirable as it is that you’re trying to protect Jamie, I can’t just let this slide. She should have reported the situation to HR⁠—”

“From my experience, employees tend to shy away from reporting issues that could be turned against them to HR, especially if they suspect that management is looking for an excuse to fire them.”

“Disclosing a breach in our guidelines regarding a consultant’s relationship with their client is not optional, Mr. Sinclair.” Vivian wasn’t going to back down on this. “The employment contract Jamie signed made that abundantly clear. A scandal of this caliber has the potential to sink a company’s reputation in this industry. Regardless of whether or not Jamie herself crossed any boundaries, the situation should have been dealt with internally to prevent this exact outcome.”

She was right. And I didn’t feel great about Jackson downplaying my level of participation in all of this. But before I could jump in or figure out how to silently ask him to stop, Vivian said, “However, there is a way to make this problem… go away.”

Something about the way she said that grated against my soul like talons on a chalkboard. I narrowed my eyes.

“And what’s that?” Minerva asked.

“Miss Kaya has agreed to refrain from distributing the photo… if Jackson agrees to the arrangement they discussed over dinner last night.”

Silence.

Even though I saw Minerva’s mouth move, there was nothing but silence and the roar of fire unfurling in my chest.

Again. He was being blackmailed into a relationship he didn’t want again.

What the fuck was wrong with these people? What was it about the money and power that made their souls rot? My fingers were numb, either because I was squeezing Jackson’s hand like it was my last lifeline, or because he was squeezing mine like it was his.

“Miray won’t be making good on any of her threats,” he said calmly. “I’ve fixed it.”

Vivian’s brows shot up. “I spoke with her less than an hour ago.”

“And I got off the phone with her shortly before we arrived. She won’t do anything with the photo, because if she does, I’ll leak this.”

Minerva placed her phone on the table, tapped at the screen, and sat back again. Harry didn’t so much as stir in her arms. I had to squint my eyes and focus for a second to make sure he was breathing.

And then, it happened.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” Jackson’s slurred, gruff voice said on the speaker. “I was fine before her. I was fine, but nobody wanted to believe it. Not you, not Molly, not Mabel, not Bensen or Mikey or Rahul or anybody else. But I was fucking fine! And now? Now I’m… She fucking broke me, Minerva. I’ve well and truly lost my mind. When I go to bed, it’s her. When I wake up, it’s her. When I blink or breathe or dare to merely exist, it’s her, and… and I never understood how Beatrice managed to sink her claws so deep into Richard’s skin. It never made sense to me. She turned a god into her fucking lapdog and put him on an electric leash, and he fucking let her.

“It was a disease with the two of them. He could only see what she wanted him to see, believed every lie she told him, and whenever she did something to piss him off, he took it out on me. That’s how fucking terrified he was that she’d leave him—he couldn’t even properly confront her about any of her affairs. She thought she’d trapped him by giving birth to me, but to him, it was always the other way around.

“He was fucking pathetic. Even as a kid, I could see it. And I swore—I swore—it was never going to be me. If that was love, then the whole world was being lied to. But it wasn’t, was it? That was a cancerous mix of deceit, and manipulation, and greed, and whatever the fuck else, but it wasn’t love. You know how I know? Because my Jamie would never manipulate me like that for anything, and I would never—could never do it to her. Miray tried to kiss me during our date and my reaction to it was fucking visceral. I had to stop myself from shoving her off of me. Everything about it was wrong and that’s how I know what my parents had wasn’t love, because even the thought of being with someone else makes me physically ill, Minerva.

“I’m done. Eight billion people in the world and my Jamie’s the best fucking one. It’s her, or it’s no one. I won’t be blackmailed and manipulated into making the single biggest mistake of my life, so fuck you, fuck the shares, and fuck the family legacy. I choose Jamie.”

Click.

Dead silence.

I was lightheaded; hadn’t breathed in almost ten minutes, afraid that the sound of my lungs would interfere with my need to memorize Jackson’s every word. I desperately needed to hear it again from the very beginning to the very end, just to be sure I’d understood him correctly.

Jackson cleared his throat as I continued to stare at nothing, dazed, my pulse racing toward the nearest heart attack.

“I informed Miray that if she shared her picture, I’d share my audio. Turns out she’s not keen on people knowing that her displays of affection made me feel ill, nor does she want to enter into any sort of arrangement with a man who’s publicly known to be desperately in love with someone else.”

I felt nothing and too much all at once. That time I hadn’t misheard him. I was ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine percent sure of it.

Vivian wasn’t saying anything, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. Or Minerva. Or Jackson. All I could focus on was Jackson’s voice and the feel of his fingers interlaced with mine.

“If she hasn’t made another attempt to reach you already, she will,” he finished.

“Vivian, a word?” Minerva said.

I barely heard her, barely registered Vivian’s response, or the fact that the two of them were already leaving. My mind was busy… processing.

“You okay?”

Slowly, I let my gaze drift up to meet his. Had I mentioned how painfully beautiful his eyes were? I could stare at them for hours, memorizing every last stroke of harsh winter blue. They were breathtaking and exquisite. I loved them.

And he loved me.

It took active effort to pry my jaw open, and then I realized I had no idea where to even start.

“Um” was the first thing that came out of my mouth, and “you were drunk” was the second.

Thankfully, he knew exactly what I was trying to say. “Wasted, actually. Couldn’t see straight when I left the message. Walking felt like a game of liquid Tetris. It was rather distressing.”

I’d have been amused by that if I wasn’t dying.

“So, you didn’t mean any of it,” I said.

“Not correct.”

Literally dying. “But you regret it.”

His gaze melted. “Not even close.”

“You told Minerva, and I quote, ‘fuck the shares,’” I reminded him.

He hummed. “Alcohol and adrenaline made my speech disorganized and clumsy, but the sentiment was there. Are the shares really what we should be focused on right now?”

“You’re just going to give them up? After all that?”

“Again, I really didn’t think that would be your biggest takeaway⁠—”

“You said you could never love me back.” He’d said those words. Told them right to my face.

The light amusement in his expression went out. “I did.”

My breathing had gone from non-existent to embarrassingly heavy. It was a wonder the whole room hadn’t fogged up yet. “Okay, so… make it make sense.”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

“Terror,” he said without hesitation. “Sheer terror of the consequences if I admitted the truth to you or to myself. I can’t… you have no idea what it was like in that house, what curse she had him under. Turning into either of them is—was—my biggest fear, just until I realized that if I couldn’t get my head out of my ass, you’d walk away, find someone else, and never look back.”

My comprehension levels were at an all-time low, but I was pretty sure I got most of that. “Okay, so then⁠—”

“I love you, Jamie.”

My heart burst. I couldn’t… wow that was a rush.

A wicked smile spread over Jackson’s lips as he took in my reaction. “I don’t remember how or when it happened, exactly, but I’ve developed an unacceptable amount of love for you and I very much plan on holding you accountable for it.”

Delight, pure and overwhelming, unfurled in my stomach, releasing a horde of butterflies. I grinned and his posture eased.

“You broke me,” he chided. “It’s been a very traumatic experience. Do you know butterflies in your stomach refer to actual butterflies in your actual stomach? And my heart’s been very dramatic about you. It’s unsettling, to say the least, knowing how many years you’ve shaved off my life.”

“If it didn’t mean getting blacklisted, I’d kiss you right now.” The glass walls of the room were opaque, but Vivian had left the door open. Not by accident, I presumed.

“That’s not going to happen.” His mouth twitched. I so badly wanted to kiss it. “Minerva made a call this morning. If there aren’t ten jobs lined up for you by now, there will be by the time we leave.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I made myself clear with her. If it’s not you, it’s no one. I reckon she’ll do just about anything to keep you happy from this point on. You’re officially the only hope she has left for securing an heir to the Sinclair throne. Whether it be now or in ten years.”

I had so many questions. “What if I don’t want kids? What if I can’t have them?”

He shrugged like it was inconsequential. “She’s going to have to deal with it.”

“And what about your job? What about the company? Is she giving you the shares back?”

“No. Her original deal stands. If I don’t get married, I lose the shares and she’ll fire me.”

He said that way too casually.

“Jackson—”

“Go on a date with me. A real one.”

My stomach swooped. “You’re giving up? After all that? How?”

“I asked him the same thing.”

My attention snapped to Minerva as she walked back into the room; alone. She cocked her head, studying me as she sank back into her chair. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

Heat raced across my cheeks, my shoulders squaring. I, too, had a bone to pick with Minerva Sinclair. “Just so we’re clear, had I been made privy to the fact that Jackson was being blackmailed into a relationship he didn’t want—had I known even a morsel of what I do now—I would’ve never agreed to participate.”

The reaction I got wasn’t the one I’d steeled my spine for. Instead of taking offense to my statement, Minerva looked… pleased. “Good,” she said.

Clearly, she’d misunderstood my meaning. “I don’t agree with what you’re doing. I think it’s manipulative and outright cruel. Jackson deserves better.”

Her slow grin pushed at the corners of her eyes, made them sparkle. “What else? Be honest with me; no sugar-coating.”

Was she hearing the words coming out of my mouth? “You should be ashamed of yourself for putting him through all of this. He has every right to be angry, and I don’t blame him for trying to make my job impossible before you forced his hand again. I’d have reacted the same way.”

Minerva nodded with what could only be interpreted as delighted approval. “Agreed.”

What? “Then you’ll give him the shares?”

“Oh, no. That won’t happen unless he gets married by the end of next month.”

Exasperation gnawed at my upper back, pushing me forward in my chair. “Why? If you agree with me then why are you still trying to force him into a marriage he doesn’t want?”

“This isn’t just about him, nor is it about me. I have a legacy to protect, Miss Paquin. And the cards were very clear with their message. Jackson must get married⁠—”

“And you believe them?! You’re playing with his life based on what one person interpreted as a spiritual message being relayed through a bunch of cards?”

I was really starting to understand Jackson’s aversion to Charmed using tarot in their program. It was what’d gotten him into this bullshit mess in the first place.

“Imogen has never been wrong when she’s read for me. I have no reason to doubt her in this.”

I eyed her carefully, thinking. “Is there anything I could say that would change your mind?”

“I’m afraid not.” Her tone left little room for argument. “However, if it makes you feel at all better, I’ve fired Charmed. He won’t be required to attend any more blind dates.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Jackson interjected smoothly. “I wouldn’t have shown up to them anyhow.”

“It’s her, or it’s no one.”

The soft skin around Minerva’s eyes crinkled again, her mouth twitching. “Regardless,” she said, “I do also feel obligated to apologize to you, Miss Paquin. I understand the impact this experience has had on your career, and I’d like you to know that if things don’t work out with you at Charmed, Oscar Mijares is looking to expand his team and would love to talk to you about joining RUMI.” She slipped a pale blue business card out of her purse and got up to hand it to me. “Call him whenever you’re ready. I think you’ll like what he has to say.”

My jaw went appropriately slack. RUMI was small but growing rapidly. It probably topped the list of upcoming competitors for Charmed. Better yet, rumor had it that Oscar was big on company culture and a great boss. We’d lost a few really talented people to him over the last year, and we weren’t the only ones.

As far as a new job went… this was about as ideal as it could get. Still, I didn’t immediately reach for it. I didn’t want her to think this would earn my forgiveness. It wouldn’t.

“Vivian is currently on a call with Miray. She’ll be back to speak with you shortly. She said it shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.” Her gaze slid to Jackson.

He squeezed my hand one last time before releasing it. “Text me when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay.”

The good thing about Vivian breaking her fifteen-minute promise and leaving me alone in the conference room for just shy of three hours was that it gave me lots of time to think.

Lots and lots of time to think.