The International Matchmaking Convention's opening ceremony was everything Ava expected: glamorous, overwhelming, and just chaotic enough to keep her on edge. The grand ballroom of the Manhattan Regal had been transformed into a matchmaking wonderland, complete with cascading floral arrangements, softly glowing chandeliers, and waitstaff gliding through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes.
Ava tugged nervously at the hem of her dress, glancing around at the sea of impeccably dressed attendees. The name tags pinned to their lapels screamed prestige—CEOs of dating apps, founders of matchmaking agencies, and industry legends whose names Ava had only ever read about in glossy magazine articles.
"This is it," she muttered under her breath, clutching her glass of champagne like a lifeline.
Ryan leaned in, his tuxedo somehow making him look both ridiculously polished and infuriatingly casual. "You're supposed to smile, Matchmaker. Pretend you're not planning an escape route."
