Bruno

In this scene, Bruno and Marissa run into each other at a nightclub.

“What a surprise to see you here.”

A low but familiar accented voice whispered the words in her right ear, and her heart slammed against her ribs. With a quick turn, Marissa bumped gazes with none other than Bruno Santana.

“Mr. Santana.” His name came out in an annoyingly breathless voice.

Could be the darkness of the venue, but he seemed extra tall and his shoulders extra broad, wide enough to rival Atlas in carrying the world.

“Bruno,” he corrected. His gray eyes popped in amusement against the backdrop of his olive skin.

“That’s right—Bruno. Forgive me.”

They stood close together, much closer than they did at the office. She caught a whiff of his scent again—something refreshingly citrus blended with a hint of musk that pleased her nose.

“So, Marissa, you decided to take a break from saving the world, one relationship at a time?” Bruno asked.

What was it about the way he looked at her, as if they were the only people in this entire place? Men like him were the kind who had women making excuses for bad behavior. She could well imagine the chaos Bruno created in the lives of the women he had slept with over the years.

“I’m meeting a friend for drinks, but I can’t find her. I called before I came in here, but the call went to voicemail. I left a message and sent a text, but she probably can’t hear the alerts in this loud place.” Marissa cast her eyes around the open space in a futile search for Lark.

“Girls’ night out?” Bruno asked.

“Something like that. And you?”

Another bump from behind, and she fell into Bruno, who caught her around the waist.

“Oops, sorry, miss.” This time the laughter came from two women about her age, snaking their way through the crowd.

Marissa suddenly realized her hands were splayed on Bruno’s rock-hard chest. Daaaamn.

Against her will, her fingers trailed down his torso, encountering firm abs before she realized what she was doing and snatched away her hands.

“Excuse me.” She stepped back, heart hammering in a crazy, irregular pattern.

“Not a problem,” he said smoothly, slipping his warm hands from her waist.

Like her, his hands had lingered longer than necessary, and the warmth of his touch remained, having seeped through the silk blouse to her skin underneath.

Bruno bent his head so he didn’t have to yell. “My future brother-in-law owns this place. I’m here to be supportive.”

The closer proximity meant she inhaled more of his intoxicating scent and the faint, malty aroma of beer with a hint of zesty citrus on his breath. It wasn’t unpleasant, and warmth coursed through her.

She gripped her purse on her shoulder to hide her trembling fingers. “I thought maybe you were wife shopping,” she said, with an attempt at humor.

“You’re taking care of that for me, no?”

He flashed his pearly whites, and her heart flipped like a gymnast. He seemed different tonight. Friendlier and dare she say… a little charming.

Marissa quickly averted her eyes. Pull yourself together. “I am.”

“Have you started the search for my future wife already, or am I expecting too much too soon?” he asked.

His breath brushed the shell of her ear, and she felt the sensation like a stroke between her thighs. Bruno was way too close. All up in her personal space. She wanted to put distance between them, but in their particular spot there wasn’t much room to move, so she was stuck.

“I started a preliminary search, but as I mentioned at the office, we have to complete your background check first, which our people are currently working on. Once that’s done, I’ll narrow down the options for you and pull together candidates for your first mixer.”

She didn’t mention she had begun her own research and fallen down a rabbit hole of magazine articles and interviews about him on YouTube. He was a charismatic interviewee, smiling often and making a couple of the interviewers blush with his gentle teasing.

“No rush, Marissa. I was simply inquiring. Since you can’t find your friend, you should join me in the VIP section. You might have a better chance of finding her in this crowd from up there.” He pointed to an area above the dance floor.

“I think it’s better if I stay here,” Marissa said. Down here, she was safer.

“As you wish.” His gaze dipped to the neckline of her top. “You look very nice tonight, by the way. That color suits you.”

Was he toying with her? He had to know his effect on women and was probably trying to crack her hardened shell.

“Thank you.”

At that moment, Lark squeezed through the crowd and grabbed her arm.

“There you are! I saw your text and texted back, and when you didn’t respond, I came looking for you.”

Wonderful. Bruno had stolen her attention, and she had missed her friend’s response.

Lark’s eyes shifted to Bruno, and Marissa saw the spark of interest that flared in their depths.

“This is Lark, a good friend of mine. This is Bruno, he’s…” Marissa didn’t know how to introduce him. Their confidentiality clause didn’t allow her to disclose the identity of clients.

“I’m one of her clients. She’s going to find me the woman of my dreams,” Bruno drawled.

Lark looped an arm around Marissa’s shoulders. “If anyone can find your soulmate, Marissa can. She’s the best matchmaker at Executive Match.”

“I know I’m in good hands. I will leave you ladies alone. Have a good night, Marissa. We’ll talk soon.”

They both watched Bruno disappear into the crowd.

Lark turned to her and stretched her eyes wide. “Oh my. He. Is. Hot. Maybe I should add my profile to your database so I can have a shot. What kind of woman is he looking for?”

“None of your business,” Marissa said, softening the words with a smile. “He’s the new client I told you about.”

“The chef?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he could probably get any woman he wants. Rich, hot, and he cooks? Lord have mercy, how is he not married already?”

“Who knows? He probably has a major character flaw.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure the women in your database will be willing to overlook it. Come on, our table is this way.”