After Betrayal - I Married a Handsome Tycoon-Chapter 1: First Meeting

"Are you good in bed?"

"I have pretty high standards when it comes to that sort of thing."

The day of her blind date with Connor Quinn, Moira Sloan had hit rock bottom.

How low had she sunk?

Think the Tarym Basin.

The boyfriend she’d loved for seven years had broken up with her, and her so-called best friend had framed her, forcing her out of the company where she’d worked for a decade.

She was, for all intents and purposes, in a complete daze.

Outside the window, traffic streamed by. Moira’s red dress was eye-catching, her long legs crossed and swinging. A small bell on her fair ankle chimed softly with the movement.

Connor Quinn sat across from her, his back ramrod straight. His features were sharp, his expression stern and cold. This, combined with his faded black t-shirt and neat buzz cut, gave him a certain air.

Rugged and intense.

The matchmaker introduced them, her tone excessively eager, sticking only to the most flattering descriptions.

Moira chimed in occasionally, her entire demeanor lazy and clearly uninterested.

She finally asked her question with a radiant smile just as the matchmaker, for the umpteenth time, poked her in the side for not being more cooperative.

She hadn’t said much, but when she did, it was a bombshell.

As Moira’s words landed, she saw a muscle in the man’s temple twitch.

The next second, the man shot to his feet. Without a moment’s hesitation, he gave the matchmaker a polite, cursory nod. In a deep voice, he said, "Miss Alden, I’m sorry. Something’s come up at my shop. I have to go."

The matchmaker looked embarrassed. She felt awkward trying to make him stay but wanted to make one last effort. "Quinn, look..."

Before the matchmaker could finish her sentence, Connor Quinn had already strode away on his long legs.

This time, Moira’s eyes, naturally as soft and gentle as water, actually followed him.

’Long legs, broad shoulders, narrow waist. A muscular build.’

’He looks like he’s in good shape.’

Moira was still lost in thought when the matchmaker slapped a hand on the table in front of her, her expression one of utter exasperation. "You tell me, how many does that make this week?" 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Moira snapped back to reality, a smile playing on her red lips, her eyes shimmering. "Twelve."

The matchmaker was momentarily dazzled by her smile. After a brief pause, she collected herself and put on a stern face. "And you have the nerve to say it! One more and you’ll have a baker’s dozen."

The corner of Moira’s mouth twitched. "Oh."

Moira’s attitude toward these blind dates was far too negative. It simply didn’t align with how a small town expected an unmarried woman in her early thirties to view marriage.

The matchmaker’s expression soured. "Moira, this isn’t the big city where you used to live. If you’re not married by thirty here, people will gossip behind your back. Honestly, the only reason I’m even helping you is because our families are such close relatives. Otherwise, I really wouldn’t want to take on this job..."

’Close relatives.’

If the matchmaker hadn’t mentioned it, she would have almost forgotten.

She and this matchmaker did indeed have some sort of familial connection. From what she’d heard, the woman was the older cousin of her third grandaunt’s second cousin’s grandson’s wife.

’A very close connection, indeed.’

In the end, the matchmaker left in a huff, her face a mask of thinly veiled anger.

The matchmaker had barely left when Moira’s phone, sitting on the table, vibrated twice. She glanced down at a new message on the screen.

[It’s been three months. Are you really not coming back? Are you really content to waste away in that tiny little town for the rest of your life?]

Moira’s finger slid across the screen, about to reply to the sender, when a friend request suddenly popped up.

Moira paused for a moment, then tapped on it. A pitch-black profile picture appeared, and beside it, the name—Connor Quinn.

Moira’s eyes narrowed slightly. Instead of accepting, she sent a rejection in the form of a question mark: ?

Him: 180.

Moira: What? Height?

Him: Duration. In minutes.