3. Leo

Istand in front of the reception desk at the Perfect Match Agency, acutely aware of the three other people in the waiting room who are staring at me. The alpha behind the desk types away at his computer for a full thirty seconds before turning his attention to me. His eyes widen in recognition.

"Oh! Leo Sanders. That's right. You have an appointment." He rustles through the stacks of papers on his desk, narrowly avoiding knocking over the cup of coffee next to his keyboard. "Right here. You're in room 308. The elevator is around the corner and to the right." He holds out a few papers to me, then pulls them back before I get the chance to grab them. "I should show you in person. Sorry. I'm not used to talking to famous people."

I hold back a smile. "It's no problem at all. Thank you for your help."

The man gets up from his desk and leads me around the corner. A single elevator is on the other side. He pushes the button several times in succession.

"It's okay. I don't mind waiting for an elevator," I say.

"Of course. Sorry."

I glance down at his left hand where a gold band gleams on his fourth finger. "I see you're married. Did you meet your husband through this agency?" Sometimes if I can get someone who is starstruck talking about themselves, they forget to be nervous around me.

The man looks at his own ring, like he forgot it was there. "Yes. I mean, no. I didn't. We met at this beach party where everyone was in a relationship except for us. We ended up talking, and one thing led to another."

The elevator slides open. We both step inside. This time when he pushes the button for the third floor, he only does it once. That's progress.

"How long have you been together?" I ask.

"A year. We just had our anniversary last week."

"Congratulations. That's exciting."

The elevator opens to a hallway of rooms. I follow the alpha to the end where a man in a black suit is sitting at an empty table with a stack of papers in front of him.

He stands and holds out his hand to me. "Good morning, Leo. It's nice to finally speak with you in person. I'm Terry, the coordinator who's been emailing you."

This is the man behind the mountains of paperwork I've filled out online during the last few days. The agency knows everything about me from my earliest childhood memory to how many sexual partners I've had. Or the estimate of how many sexual partners I've had. I'm not sure at this point.

"It's nice to meet you too, Terry. My agent mentioned that someone would be filming today?"

"Yes. After I iron out some holes in your paperwork, I'll take you down to the lab where the film crew is ready to document our medical testing process." He pulls out a chair, gesturing for me to sit down.

Holes in my paperwork? I thought I answered every question. Maybe there was a problem with the file upload or something.

The receptionist waves goodbye and heads back down the hall. I watch him just long enough to see him pull his phone out of his back pocket. He's probably going to text someone about meeting me. Hopefully he'll say something nice, rather than dragging me on Reddit or in some anonymous tip on Buzzfeed.

I shouldn't be this wary of strangers. Most of the people I meet are nice to me. But I've been burned so many times, it's hard to trust anyone. Unless I have to work, I stay inside my house and don't talk to anyone at all.

Terry closes the door and sits in the chair next to me. "Even though we're financially compensating you for posting on social media about your experience with our matchmaking services, we still want this to be a personal endeavor for you. The man we pair you with will be looking for someone to fall in love with, and I want to make sure that you're genuinely looking for that as well."

"Yes, of course," I say, even though it makes my stomach twist with guilt.

"A few of your answers concerned me a little bit. For instance, this one." He slides a piece of paper in front of me and points to the second question. "Here we ask for a close friend or family member who we can contact to learn more about you, and you listed your agent."

I squirm in my chair. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But the personality assessment portion of our matchmaking process is just as important as the biological element. All the physical chemistry in the world can't overcome social and emotional incompatibilities." Terry slides a pen out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket. "Here. You can write down a different name and number."

I take the pen from him, still unsure what I should write.

"The thing is, I travel a lot for work, so I haven't gotten close with any friends recently," I try to explain. When I filled out the form, I scoured my brain for a single person who I was close enough to put down for this question, but all the friends I've made on set would find it weird to get a call from the Perfect Match Agency on my behalf. It would be embarrassing.

"What about family?" Terry asks.

I open my mouth, then close it again. "It's… complicated."

My dads and I have never been close. After I moved to LA, the distance between us was even worse. We talked on the phone at Christmas and birthdays, but that was it. The first time I did a nude scene in a film, my alpha dad sent me a text message saying he "didn't like it." I figured it would blow over. They didn't threaten to disown me or anything. But they haven't called me since, and they haven't answered my calls or texts.

I guess they don't like me anymore, either.

Up until a few months ago, I'd gotten close to Dave's dads. They're the reason I moved to Sutton City. They're also the reason I stayed with him as long as I did. I loved the family dinners they hosted out on their deck and the stocking they embroidered with my name for Christmas. They made me feel like I was a part of a family again.

I miss them a lot more than I miss Dave.

"Let's leave that answer the way it is." Terry goes on to a few other questions I left blank by mistake, and I try to pay attention, but I can't help wondering what my future match's dads will think of me. How would I feel if my son was dating a man with such an embarrassing reputation? There's no way they'll welcome me with open arms the way Dave's dads did. They'll be worried, at best. Maybe overtly judgmental.

The sex tape and scandalous photos didn't just ruin my career, they probably ruined my chance at being a part of a family.

Terry picks up his stack of papers. "That should do it. I'll take you to the lab now. Once we get down there, everything will be filmed except for the sperm and slick collection. Do you have any questions for me?"

"How many people who meet through your agency actually stay together?" I ask. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut. I'm working with this agency. I should be supportive, not skeptical.

He smiles warmly. "Most of them. Our matchmaking process really works."

"What about people who are… high profile? Do you have success with those kinds of matches?"

"Yes. We have to handle them with more finesse, but the process still works. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, Mr. Sanders."

With that, he stands and opens the door.