She would help calm my nerves before the big night.

The group of women lined up against the walls. We were handed specific numbers and were instructed to place them over our left breast. Before sticking on my number, I peeked. Lucky number thirteen.

The doorway at the end of the hallway opened.

Mr. Felton.

He was dressed in a navy blue fitted suit jacket with straight-legged trousers. It had to have been designed by Brioni because only James Bond himself could pull off that look. I swallowed hard and kept my eyes to the ground. His voice, confident and smooth, traveled down the hallway with the directions. But we knew what to do; it was in every manual we were required to read.

Turn around and face the wall so blindfolds could be attached. Don't speak unless spoken to.

We were never to know all the clients that used Mr. Felton's services; it was a part of the nondisclosure agreement. So, everything was done behind closed doors and blindfolds.

The softness of the material rubbed across my cheeks and eyelashes. I squished my nose a little and peered down. I had moved the material a quarter of an inch, and if I tilted my head a tad, I could see. It was directly against the rules—rules that I had just broken.

Lori, and another one of the girls whose name I didn't know, grabbed my hands and all the women were escorted to the main room where a stage awaited us.

Curiosity killed me. I lifted my head and caught glimpses of men of different ages and sizes. They sat around circular tables eyeing their forms, which included headshots and the numbers of their personal matches. The men were like cattle herders, but they all wore expensive suits and ties, the most sophisticated of gentlemen, the upper class, the only ones that could afford The Elite.

Mr. Felton's voice reverberated through the room over a sound system.

"Thank you all for attending tonight. As you can see, each one of my girls has a number attached to her chest. Please circle the one that you most desire on your compatibility form. Once completed, please return your bid slip to me. Assignments will be given once the bidding has finished."

His voice, so British and sexy, articulated every word carefully. I memorized how this worked: the highest bidder would be assigned to a girl and then the meet-and-greet would commence. There would be no sex. The Elite believed that two people should have a common chemistry before any sort of sexual act took place. Tonight was nothing more than an Elite speed-dating event that could eventually end in sex, one day. It didn't seem so bad, considering.

I licked my red lips and pressed them together because I knew what was coming next.

"Virgins step forward, please."

I did as told and moved forward for everyone to see the one and only prized virgin. Murmuring increased, and I knew they were excited. Tilting my head, I could see the clients searching their forms for lucky number 13. Some had me, and others didn't.

"Thank you," Mr. Felton said, not speaking into the microphone. And I moved back into place.

I almost could hear my heart beating. And before I let my thoughts take over, the line traveled from the main room back into the long hallway. We were instructed to face the wall until Jesse removed our blindfolds.

"You did well," Mr. Felton whispered in my ear as he removed mine. So gentle, his touch and the way he brushed my hair from my shoulders. I tried not to smile and continued to look forward. As he walked by, I turned my head slightly and positioned my body to see in my peripheral if he undid anyone else's.

He didn't. I held a breath.

Lori grabbed my hand and squeezed, and we both shared a smile.

"Turn around," Jesse demanded.

Like robots, each woman turned in synchronicity and Jesse walked down the line passing out slips of paper with our man of the evening's number attached. As she handed me mine, she dropped it on the floor, gave an overly sarcastic oops and then kept walking.

Bitch.

I opened my paper and inside read, No. 26—Luketon Brand.

Lori opened hers and smiled. Every woman seemed happy with her selected match. Feeling out of the loop, I flashed my card towards Lori. She gave a smile and thumbs up, and then whispered he's fucking hot. I laughed and then immediately turned it off as Jesse glared at me.

The secretiveness of the process kept the integrity of The Elite call service. The men didn't want people to know who they were, and we weren't allowed to speak of it with another person. That would be easy for me. I had no one to tell.

Lining the walls of the convention area were tinted windows with numbers on the doors. Room twenty-six awaited me.

Mr. Felton spoke with Jesse by the exit. He pointed around the room and wrote a few scribbles in a small notebook. Jesse shook her head several times, and he nodded his. Mr. Felton continued to talk, almost scolding her, and then ended it with a smile. I kept my eyes on them while I went to meet my match. His jade greens caught sight of mine, and I didn't look away. He watched me until I couldn't take it anymore.

Outlined in gold and filled in with red, the number twenty-six held the man that wanted me: Luketon Brand. With a pinch of confidence, I opened the door and saw dark hair, blue eyes, and a set of plump lips. He stood as I entered and waited for me to sit, and then he followed.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Luketon Brand, but you can call me Luke."

"Jennifer Downs, nice to meet you."

He grabbed my hand and kissed the back ever so slightly.

"The pleasure is indeed mine."

Another man with a mesmerizing British accent. I thought I might lose it.

"So, Jennifer, won't you tell me about yourself?"

I traveled back to the office with Mr. Felton, and the result of the same question. I trashed the thoughts.

There are specific questions that a match can ask. I had the answers memorized as not to give away too much.

"I'm twenty-two, a Virgo, only child. I like fast cars, and hate taking walks on the beach."

He chuckled.

"Really? Duly noted. I have a confession to make."

He leaned in closer.

"I despise the beach as well."

I smiled and cocked my head.

"The sand is terrible, isn't it?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he interrupted me before I could agree.

"Would you like to ditch this joint? I also despise formalities, and ties, and boring business meetings."

"So we can leave?"

"You're mine for the next few hours. We can do whatever our little hearts' desire, and I can guarantee that does not include long walks on the beach."

He stood and placed his hand on the small of my back and led me from the cramped space of box number twenty-six.

Luke found Jesse and Mr. Felton at the exit.

"We are leaving. Be back before curfew."

I heard a slight edge in his voice. The three of them turned and looked at me. Jesse rolled her eyes just to confirm that she still hated me. Mr. Felton lifted his eyebrows as if to ask if leaving was okay, and I nodded my head. Why the hell did he have to look at me with such intensity? Fucking Finnley Felton fucking with my feelings. Or maybe it was my emotions playing tricks on me?

Luke left Mr. Felton with a firm handshake and headed toward me with a smile on his face.

"Since that's settled, where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere but here."

He opened his arm for me to link onto. Before we left, I looked over my right shoulder and saw Mr. Felton watching me leave. I winked at him and turned around.