Page 8 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

"Half of Silicon Valley," Dani scrolls through social media updates. "Three unicorn CEOs, two venture capital firms, and plenty more.”

"Ladies!" Nonna Flora's voice carries through the door. "Car is ready!"

"You hired a car?" I ask Olivia.

"Of course not." She grabs her own coat. “You can thank my wonderful husband and father of my girls for letting me borrow his Audi tonight. You know, the one he definitely didn't buy during his mid-life crisis last year."

“Here,” Nonna Flora declares, appearing with a tin of what suspiciously looks like her special grappa-laced cookies. "Can't crash party without snack."

As we head out into the rain, I catch my reflection in the restaurant's window. I barely recognize myself – and maybe that's the point.

Tonight, I'm not Roz the careful matchmaker, the womanwho's spent five years rebuilding her life and business after Joel blew both up.

Tonight, I'm someone else. Someone who crashes engagement parties and steals clients and doesn't care that her ex is marrying her cousin in their spot.

I just hope that someone knows what the hell she's doing.

3

RED WINE, WHITE SHIRT, BLUE LANGUAGE

ROSALIND

An hour later, the January rain has turned to sleet as we approach the Four Seasons’ back door.

A warning to all: If you're going to crash your ex-husband's engagement party to your cousin, make sure you account for weather. It’s probably best not to wear four-inch Louboutins in wet slush. Infiltration requires stealth—something notably absent when your shoes announce your arrival like a squishing alarm bell.

“Hey, you think you can walk any softer,” Dani hisses as we hurry through the Four Seasons' back service corridor, her ginger-blonde curls bouncing. “I can hear you sloshing from a mile away.”

“Hey! This wasn’t even my plan, remember?” I whisper back, softening my steps. The kitchen noise masks most of it anyway. “I came to network. Not snuck in through the service entrance like cat burglars.”

"Very well-dressed cat burglars," Olivia chimes in through our shared AirPod. She’s stationed in the lobby, providingsurveillance. "Heads up—Joel’s mom just arrived. She’s wearing red."

"Of course she is," I mutter. "Probably announcing her engagement to her tennis instructor."

The ballroom noise spills into the hallway. Through the service door, I catch glimpses of Seattle’s elite circulating with champagne flutes that likely cost more than my last client payment. The floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the January night, doubling the sparkle of chandeliers and designer jewelry.

"Roz?" Dani tugs my arm. "You’re redecorating in your head again."

"I am not." I totally am. The floral arrangements are wrong for January—who approved those colors? "I’m strategizing."

"Target acquired," Olivia cuts in. "Samantha just downed her third champagne and is heading to the restroom. Five minutes tops before?—"

"Before what? I told you, we’re not here for drama."

"Right. Networking. Professionally," Dani deadpans. "Which is why you’re wearing a revenge dress and Joel’s mother’s bracelet."

"It’s called making a statement."

"Statement being ‘I’m hot and successful and totally unbothered’?"

"Statement being ‘Heart & Soul Connections need money and I intend to get some.’” I adjust the Valentino neckline. "What’s our strategy?"

"Same as planned. You hit the VCs on the west side. I’ll take the east—startups trying to look important. Meet at the bar in thirty."

"And I’ve got the lobby," Olivia adds. "By the way, some guy just walked in looking like James Bond’s hotter, grumpier brother."

"Focus," I remind them. "We need five solid leads or payroll’s going to get…interesting." I take a breath. "Ready?"

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