Failure to Match (Bad Billionaire Bosses, #2)

by Kyra Parsi

They were spaced out and organized to form a structurally perfect D.

HER SOULMATE😭😭😭😭

“I mean I’ll never be able to find a job at a matchmaking firm again.” “That would never happen.” “I don’t think you understand just how taboo⁠—” “Let me rephrase,” he interrupted. “I would never allow that to happen.”

“Jackson?” I whispered as I approached. Please don’t be drunk. Please, please, please don’t be drunk. “D’you see? I’m even hearing her voice,” he slurred at the hedgehog.

LAMSKSKSKSKSKSA LO AMOOO

“Are you the date or his Jamie?” I blinked at the bartender, my stomach tightening. “Pardon?” “Are you the date,” she repeated slowly, “or his Jamie?”

“I hate to break it to you, Jamie Paquin, the prettiest little matchmaker with the prettiest smile and the prettiest heart he’s ever seen, but this idiot is your man.”

BASTAAAAAA

“Again,” he whispered, and my cheeks flared bright crimson. I was aware of how much I’d cried in front of him, he didn’t need to point it out like that. But then he said, “My fault. Again.”

“Stop. Just... stop.” His voice was gruff with exasperation as he stepped forward. “Does this feel right to you? Does seeing me with someone else feel right? Because I’m losing my fucking mind over here, Jamie. It’s fucking horrible.”

“How can you stand it?” His voice was raw, anguished. “How is it fair that you’re only halfway there, but I can’t fucking breathe anymore, Jamie?”

I KNEW 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?

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“To start, there would be no paperwork, no predetermined end date, and no contractual restrictions on our relationship as husband and wife.” He grazed a pair of knuckles over my cheekbone and my lashes fluttered. “You would be my wife, Jamie. In every way that matters, not just on paper. You would be mine, and I would be yours. I’m not willing to share.”

“Aftercare is your new kink?” A smile tugged at his deliciously plush mouth. “You’ve done me so dirty with that, Jamie. I’ve started to fucking fantasize about giving you another bath. I’ve been getting off on the idea of showering you with affection without you telling me ‘no.’

“Best friends for liiife,” he teased in a shocking, sing-songy voice. Like a dork. And when I was done giggling over it, he murmured, “I love you, Jamie.”

“It’s not what it sounds like, I swear.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re only getting married so we can date. Like that movie with Sandra Bullock and one of the Ryans.” “Gooseling,” Jackson supplied from behind us.

“What do you think, Mrs. Sinclair? One year ago today I fucked you in that pretty little lace dress you wore to the courthouse, and I’m about to do the same now. I can’t think of a more enticing tradition.”

“Good thing you didn’t let me drown that first night, huh?” “I thought about it.” “Shut up,” I giggled. “And here we are, thirteen months later. Who would’ve thought?” His eyes sobered just a touch. “Best year of my life.” “Same. Without question.” Huffing another small giggle, I sang, “Best friends for liiife.” “Best friends for liiife,” he sang back. “I love you, darling. More than anyone, more than anything.”

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹