The man can definitely sell.
He’s even selling me.
“Of course not, but we need to explain to these people why it worked. Why it’s different than the other platforms out there promising to find them love. How it could make an unattainable bachelor such as yourself decide to try it in the first place.”
“Unattainable?” he plays off of me and does so perfectly.
“Keep the ego in check, Phillips. We need space for the rest of the people in the room.”
The audience chuckles.
“She loves me. Can’t you tell?” A playful tap on my ass to continue the ruse.
“Most days.” I nod with a smile. “Now why don’t you explain to them the why behind your decisions.”
“Won’t they get bored? I mean, can’t I just show them the site?”
“They can do that at home, honey. They came out to hear from us.”
“Can you tell which one of us runs the show?” he says with a shy smile that for the slightest of seconds makes me forget that this is an act. We’re in a room full of people but it feels like it’s just the two of us. “What can I say? She likes to make the rules, and I’m okay with that.”
“And he likes to fly by the seat of his pants.”
“But see, we knew this before we ever met face to face. With the groundbreaking AI technology SoulM8 is using, our strengths and weaknesses, likes and dislikes . . . they were matched up giving us a compatibility ratio that was through the roof.”
“If that wasn’t a smooth segue, I don’t know what is,” I say with a laugh.
“You noticed?” he says.
“I did.” He leans in for a kiss and when he presses his lips to mine, I push against his chest. “Uh, uh, uh.”
“See?” he says and gives me a shake of his head before turning back to the audience. “We’re already like an old married couple.”
That garners another chuckle.
“Why did I give up bachelorhood again?” he asks.
“Ah, because the reward—me—is so worth it,” I say with a playful curtsey.
He takes a dramatic deep breath for emphasis. “My queen has spoken. The details.”
“Yes, they want details on why you think this works.”
“Well, I’m going to bring up that term I just mentioned a few moments ago. AI or artificial intelligence technology. The use of AI in our matchmaking is what sets SoulM8 apart from other sites. I could go into this long drawn out explanation where I explain mathematical computations that even I don’t understand,” he says as he walks over to the other side of the stage and takes a sip of water before continuing, “but I’ll spare you the boredom and just say this: our AI matchmakers are programmed to compile your data and your interactions on the site so they can get to know you and in turn, match you with who we hope to be your soul mate.”
“I know it sounds weird, but I promise you, it works.”
“It does.” He offers me a soft smile. “And not only does it work, but it . . .”
I watch him work the crowd. Own them really. I catch Robert’s eye a few times during the presentation, can tell he’s pleased, but it begs me to ask the same thing I’ve asked myself several times. Why does Robert’s investment in SoulM8 matter so much to Zane?
And why, for a man whose investment portfolio appears to encompass only tangible assets, why would he bet on the one thing you can’t touch—matters of the heart?
“IT PAINS ME TO ADMIT this . . . but I was wrong.”
Zane’s drink falters midway to his lips before taking a sip and looking over to me. “I told you I could sell it.”
I let the sound of my heels clicking on the asphalt fill the silence as I think back to our incredible rapport earlier. “You did.”
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about doubting me.”
My feet falter. There’s something in the way he says the statement—the subtle hint of bite to it—that rubs me the wrong way. Like, how dare I question him when I have every right to.
Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I’m being bitchy. Then again maybe his true colors are shining through.
Let it go, Low.
“So this is it?” I say more to myself than to anyone else when we walk around the back entrance of the theater to find a large sleeper coach parked. The bus is long, black and sleek with the word SoulM8 larger than life and emblazoned down its side. The tour bus looks out of place in the parking lot, and I take a moment to stare at it almost as if I’m waiting for some rock god to come strolling out any moment.
“Yes,” Zane says, followed by a sigh and a motion with the drink in his hand. “This, unfortunately, is it.”