The Right Swipe by Alisha Rai Read Online (FREE)
The Right Swipe by Alisha Rai
Originally published: August 6, 2019
Author: Alisha Rai
Genre: Contemporary romance
RHIANNON HUNTER worshipped at the altar of no man.
Or woman, for that matter. She’d worked hard to carve out her own tiny empire where she was only accountable to herself and those she chose to be accountable to. It was a luxury and privilege she didn’t take lightly.
So it was extra annoying when she had to cajole anyone for anything. Wearing heels, no less.
“Ma’am, you are not on the list.”
Rhiannon flicked the button of her jacket open. Her modest cleavage in the crimson one-piece jumpsuit she was wearing had the bouncer’s gaze slipping away from his iPad. She cocked her hip, the better to accent her legs, the dratted heels at least giving her a nice optical illusion of length. “I got an invite,” she lied. “Can you please double-check? H-U-N-T-E-R.” She spoke in what was her closest guess of what a sweet, soft tone might sound like.
The large, muscle-bound guy dragged his eyes back to his tablet and, with a sigh, scrolled through the list again. The light from the hotel’s hallway reflected off his shaved head as he straightened. “Of course. Apologies, Ms. Hunter. Here you are.” He stood aside and opened the door to the ballroom.
She gave him a regal nod and sailed inside like she belonged in truth, pulling her phone out of her pocket to send a quick text. I don’t know how you finagled that, but I’m in.
Her assistant, Lakshmi, responded immediately. Didn’t I tell you I’d handle it? And stop cursing your shoes. You only need to be in them for a little while.
Rhiannon’s lips curved. She could have worn her signature hoodie and Converse and not looked out of place during any other event this week—at a tech conference like CREATE, sweatshirts and sneakers mixed with silk and suits—but this particular party, an exclusive after-hours event, had specified a formal dress code.
She tucked her phone back into the roomy pocket of her jumpsuit and walked farther into the ballroom, snagging a glass of wine off a passing waiter’s tray.
The place was packed. A band played onstage, but most people were circulating, their voices pitched over the music. Austin might be a music lover’s city, but the majority of guests here tonight were conference attendees whose primary priority was to network and learn.
She surveyed the room with a critical eye. Formal wear was not her jam, and neither were stuffy hotel ballrooms, but Matchmaker had gone all out tonight. The company’s signature M was emblazoned on everything from the heart-shaped ice sculpture to the dark blue napkins.
There were countless dating apps and sites now, but most North American serial singles knew only three mattered. Swype, the original left and right swipe-based dating app built around Hot-or-Not bro culture; Crush, Rhiannon’s pink and feminist response; and Matchmaker, that old-time behemoth website that had started back in the day when people wanted to spend days building their dating profile and had to scan their photos via a dedicated machine.