Chapter Text
When Lestat was just sixteen years old, he made his first match. His perpetually single political science teacher, Ms. Mayfair, may not have seemed like the best candidate to date his crotchety, divorced debate teacher, Mr. Curry, but Lestat had been left with no other choice. And they were both over fifty. He figured neither of them could be audacious enough to act picky when it came to significant others at that stage in life.
It had started when Lestat received his grade in debate for the first semester of junior year. C minus. Minus. Though Lestat may have played the role of dumb blonde well enough to get what he wanted from time to time, he was anything but. And he was not about to bring down his entire 3.9 GPA because of one stupid grade in debate class. Lestat was good at debate class. He loved to argue with anyone who would challenge him. It was simply that his teacher was an ill-tempered man with a short-fuse, constantly taking it out on his students. Lestat understood to an extent, being a teacher was a thankless job, and he and his classmates did not make any administrator’s life easy at their high school. There was simply one solution to get Mr. Curry to loosen up and reconsider Lestat’s C minus, and that was to get him laid.
This proved harder than Lestat thought at first. It turned out most of the teachers in the school were already married. Ms. Mayfair was simply the only option. In an act of sheer desperation, Lestat googled “famous Shakespeare quotes about love,” found one, and wrote it on a card to give to Ms. Mayfair to make her think that she had a secret admirer. He then told a little white lie that gave Mr. Curry reason to believe that Ms. Mayfair had a secret crush on him as well, and suddenly, the two were sitting together at every lunch. After only two weeks, they were officially dating.
It seemed a miracle to Lestat that the two actually managed to get along, let alone date. His little experiment had worked out perfectly. And after the two of them got married, Lestat began to wonder if it was a miracle at all. Lestat had always been socially savvy. A lot of people in his life valued his opinion. He could not blame them, he was usually right about most things. Lestat figured that if he could manage to help two single teachers fall in love simply because he wanted a higher grade, the matches he could make with a bit more time and resources could be incredibly advantageous, especially fiscally speaking.
Lestat floated through college as a communications major, with a minor in philosophy. His mother had rolled her eyes when Lestat told her his plans. The truth of the matter was that Lestat could study whatever he wanted and it would not make much of a difference. His family was rich, they had connections anywhere and everywhere. Of course, Lestat would still have to work hard after he graduated to get what he wanted– it was just that what he wanted was not the most traditional of careers, and his parents' fortune would help make that happen. In college, Lestat made sure to acquire quite the client list. Most times, people were not looking for anything long-term as they were simply students in their twenties hoping for a hookup, but Lestat made sure to offer his services for any and every type of relationship. He developed a reputation on campus, which helped him kickstart his own company after graduation. A generous business loan from his father did not hurt, either. Lélio Matchmaking was up and running faster than Lestat could have ever anticipated.
It was there that Lestat worked with Louis DuLac for the first time. Louis. A pity hire that his father had forced him to make, Louis had also studied communications in college and had big dreams of working in Public Relations. He turned his nose up at everything Lestat said or did, and acted like he was going to change the world by cultivating positive public images for thoughtless celebrities. Lestat had known Louis almost his whole life. Their parents were close friends in the way uppity, rich and perpetually-drunk business executives that lived two hours away from each other could be considered “close friends.” Lestat’s family owned three of the most profitable vineyards in California, while Louis’ family, the de Pointe du Lacs as their website referred to them, owned one of the most profitable hotel chains. “A match made in heaven,” his mother had always said in that thick French accent she clung to despite having lived in the states for decades. Lestat had seen Louis at every single one of his parents’ parties over the years, without fail. When Lestat and Louis were eighteen, their siblings had even been engaged for six long months. Luckily, they had quickly realized their mistake. The thought of possibly being related to Louis had filled Lestat with dread.
At work, they had constantly clashed. Though, shockingly enough, they never fought. Lestat almost wished that was what they had done. They bickered . Nothing Lestat did was ever good enough for Louis. And nothing Louis did was ever exciting enough for Lestat. But the irony of it all was that they pushed each other to be better, every single time. It was why the matchmaking service was so successful. Their coworkers wept when Louis announced that he had gotten another job at a PR agency in Beverly Hills. “But I thought you loved it here, Louis?” they had said. And “no! Louis, you make us better! You can’t leave.” Lestat would not admit that he too felt a certain loss once Louis was gone. Lestat worked with a lot of strong personalities, but no one else ever bothered to tell Lestat “no” the way Louis had.
Luckily, after Louis left, the company managed to continue to grow in size and in reputation. Lestat ignored all feelings of rage every time someone came to him looking for a match, only to tell him that they had heard of him through Louis DuLac . Lestat refused to admit that Louis had helped him in any way shape or form, until one day Louis called him out of the blue.
“Hello, Lestat? It’s Louis de Pointe du Lac–”
“Yes, Louis. Hello,” Lestat interrupted. He hated when Louis would use his full name as if Lestat did not have his contact information. As if Lestat did not recognize his voice by now. As if Lestat knew anyone else with a name as pretentious as his own.
“How are you?” Louis asked.
“Fine, thank you. How are you?” Lestat responded.
“Yeah, good, thanks. I won’t take up too much of your time, I know you’re a busy man,” Louis said as Lestat rolled his eyes and leaned back in his desk chair. “I have a celebrity client that I think you would be interested in. She’s looking to be set up, and I want to send her your way, but I thought I would check in first.”
Lestat sat up straight in his chair. He did not want any more help from Louis, but the idea of finally having a celebrity client was intriguing.
“Who is it?” Lestat questioned.
“The singer Akasha,” Louis revealed. Lestat nearly dropped the phone. Akasha was one of the biggest names in the music industry.
“You know Akasha?” Lestat said, sounding doubtful. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“Oh yes,” Louis answered. “She’s a frequent guest at my parents’ hotels.”
Of course. If Lestat had not been so impressed by Akasha he would have told Louis to take his handout elsewhere. To be frank, life was already very easy for Lestat, and he did not want Louis to think that he just sat around all day waiting for things to fall into his lap. Although, if Louis were to ever insinuate that, Lestat guessed he could throw the same insult back into Louis’ face.
“Ah, I see,” Lestat mused.
“I ran into her in the lobby of our Napa location the other day, congratulated her on the album, and we got to talking about her ex, who was the inspiration for the whole thing, of course,” Louis began to ramble on as Lestat moved to search for facts about Akasha online.
“– Anyway she said she’s ready to get back out there. So, I told her I would talk to you about taking her on as a client,” Louis finished.
“I didn’t realize she was so desperate to date again,” Lestat said. “Happy to be of service.”
“She’s not desperate, Lestat. Don’t say that,” Louis chided. “She’s a woman in her thirties who wants to find love. Isn’t that what you claim to be good at? Thought you loved to help people?”
Ah yes, there it was. Despite getting his start at Lestat’s company, Louis did not believe in Lestat’s ability to find a match. Louis was a “practical” person. He did not believe that Lestat had a special talent. He did not believe that Lestat treated his clients as people– he believed Lestat treated them as a paycheck. He did not believe that Lestat was good at what he did.
“Certainly, Louis. I am excellent at it. You’ve seen my results. Seventy-five percent success rate,” Lestat bragged.
“Spoken with the attitude of someone with a one-hundred percent success rate,” Louis quipped.
“Should I not believe in myself and my company? Would that please you, Louis?” Lestat’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Do you want me to send Akasha your way or not?” Louis asked, ignoring him.
And that was how Louis got Lestat his first celebrity client and took Lestat’s company from simply successful to the behemoth it was currently.
By the time Lestat was thirty years old, his company had tripled in size and his success rate had gone up to eighty-five percent. However, in the years of making matches for other people, it seemed that Lestat had come up short when it came to making a match for himself. He was not upset by that fact, rather just confused by it. How could Lestat be so good at finding complete strangers love and yet he could not manage one long term partner of his own?
Lestat decided that the upcoming year would be the year he would finally try to find a significant other. He was throwing a birthday party for himself at his parent’s Malibu house and he figured that was as good a time as any to start his search.
“Oh, I added Louis to the guest list, by the way. You left him off,” his mother said as Lestat took one last look at the decorations the party planning crew had finished putting up around the vineyard out back.
“What? Mother, I’m thirty years old, I don’t need you adding people onto the guest list for my birthday party,” Lestat practically whined.
“You’re the thirty year old having a party in mommy and daddy’s backyard,” his mother pointed out.
“Well, I don’t have a vineyard in my apartment, do I?” Lestat argued.
“And whose fault is that?” his mother shot back. “Besides, you love Louis. You two were practically brothers-in-law. He’s family.”
“We were not practically brothers-in-law, Jesus Christ. Our siblings just managed to temporarily go insane at the same time, ” Lestat protested. “I’m going upstairs to get ready.”
When Lestat came back downstairs after fixing his hair, which took some time, he walked into the living room to find Louis and his mother laughing together.
“Oh, there he is!” his mother exclaimed. “I should get going, I'm late to meet your father. I hope my darling little chou chou enjoys his thirtieth birthday party!”
Lestat’s mother kissed him loudly on the cheek.
“That’s enough,” Lestat said, feeling suddenly embarrassed that Louis was there.
“Bye, Mrs. Lioncourt,” Louis beamed, waving her off.
“Louis! None of that! You’re such a gentleman sometimes. What have I always said?” Lestat’s mother retorted.
Louis put his hands up in a mock surrender. “Gabrielle.”
Lestat practically pushed his mother out the door.
“Louis, what are you doing here so early?” Lestat asked.
“The party starts at eight?” Louis replied as if Lestat was insane.
“Yes, I know. It’s eight forty-five,” Lestat explained.
“Right,” Louis said slowly.
“Jesus, Louis,” Lestat yelled, throwing his hands up. “Do you show up this early everywhere? We live in LA. You work in PR .”
“I mean, your birthday party is a bit different from a PR event in The Valley, Lestat. No offense,” Louis smirked. “I didn’t think I would be the first person here, honestly. Nice plaid suit, by the way. The yellow really… brings out the color of your hair.”
Lestat could have screamed.
“Yes, well, make yourself at home,” Lestat sighed. “Which I see you already have with my darling mother. Bar is outside.”
Lestat marched out to the backyard while Louis casually sauntered behind him.
“Your mother and I were just reminiscing about how Grace and your brother almost got married,” Louis explained unnecessarily as he and Lestat both got glasses of champagne.
“What a terrible tragedy that didn’t work out,” Lestat sneered, downing his entire glass in one go. He really hoped other guests would arrive soon.
“How’s work?” Louis questioned, changing the subject as he moved to get Lestat another drink from his open bar. As if that was chivalrous.
“Excellent. How’s the agency?” Lestat replied.
“Oh, same as always,” Louis said, handing Lestat a new glass. Lestat went to drink that one as well before Louis stopped him, pushing the glass down.
“Hang on,” Louis laughed. He raised his own glass up to Lestat’s. “Happy Birthday. Well, in two days anyway.” Louis knew his actual birthday.
Lestat clinked his glass to Louis’ as the two of them maintained eye contact while they drank.
“What is it they say? If you don’t look the person in the eye? Seven years of bad sex?” Lestat inquired, knowing the answer.
“Yes, that’s what they say,” Louis responded.
Just then, Lestat’s coworkers burst through the back door in a big commotion. All of them, pleased beyond belief to see their old friend, Louis.
Of course, none of Lestat’s so-called friends decided to bring any plus ones, so Lestat’s plan to flirt with any and all strangers immediately flew out the window.
Lestat thankfully found himself pulled away from Louis quickly enough after everyone arrived, and did not feel the need to talk to him for the rest of the night. As the party winded down, he saw Louis engaged in a conversation with his receptionist, Jesse. Jesse was a sweet woman, and a kind woman, but she was a dull woman. She tended to ramble on about topics no one quite cared about. She was also the most organized person Lestat had ever met, so he was not about to fire her. Still, he wished she came with a mute button.
And there was Louis, throwing his head back, laughing at something Jesse said. Lestat knew for a fact that Louis was full of shit. There was no way that anything Jesse said could have warranted that kind of reaction. And yet Louis gave it to her, just to be nice. Stupid Louis with his stupid politeness and his stupid charming smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. Lestat wished that Louis would give him one legitimate reason to hate him, so he could do just that and call it a day. But, the truth of the matter was that Louis was nothing but simply vexatious to Lestat. And so, he would just have to live with that. For the rest of his life, it seemed, if his mother had it her way.
Lestat realized that, as he had been staring at Louis, Jesse had noticed and was making her way over to him, pulling Louis along. Lestat attempted to find another person to talk to quickly, but it was too late.
“Hey Lestat,” Jesse slurred. At least she was drunk, and hopefully, a bit more fun now.
“Hello Jesse,” Lestat greeted her, trying his best to sound happy and failing.
Lestat looked to Louis briefly and saw that Louis was trying to hold back a smile while looking down at the ground. So, Louis did know just how boring Lestat found Jesse to be. Interesting.
“I was just telling Louis about that client we had the other day? The violinist? Remember?”
Yes, Lestat remembered. A vegan violinist seeking another vegan violinist. It might have been an odd request but it was nowhere near as fascinating as Jesse seemed to think it was.
“So odd, right? So many violinists just showing up out of the blue!” Jesse finished.
“What do you mean?” Louis asked.
“Well, that man and also that reality star, Nicolas. He’s moving back to the states apparently,” Jesse explained.
Suddenly, Jesse was the most compelling person at the party.
“Nicolas Lenfent?” Lestat practically squealed.
Louis looked at Lestat with an air of disapproval, but Lestat could not care. Nicolas Lenfent was a famous violinist who appeared in a reality show years ago about cohabitating in a house with strangers. He had become a heartthrob overnight and quickly made the entire world care about the violin. Lestat had not been immune to his charm. Nicolas, or “Nicki” as he liked to be called, was handsome, existential and mysterious. He was an enigma to Lestat. And he just so happened to follow Lestat on Instagram, constantly liking and commenting on his photos. Nicki had been living in Paris, working for a major orchestra there for the past two years, so, even though Lestat considered their Instagram activity to be flirting, he never thought it would go any farther than that.
“You’re drooling, Lestat,” Louis said. Lestat wanted to kick him out of the party.
“He’s moving back to America?” Lestat asked Jesse.
“How do you know?” Louis inquired.
“Oh funny story!” Jesse began. “So my father’s assistant at work used to live in the same apartment complex as Nicolas’ great aunt, which was the same apartment complex where that one KTLA news anchor used to live…”
Lestat looked to Louis who stood there with a huge grin on his face while they listened to Jesse turn a thirty-second story into a five minute one. Fucking bastard.
“Lestat Lioncourt, handsome, clever, and rich,” Daniel began as he read the article to Lestat and his employees in the Monday morning meeting. “He was never one to be satisfied with just a ‘job well done.’”
Lestat rolled his eyes as everyone around him laughed.
“Lioncourt built his company from the ground up at just twenty-three years old–” Daniel continued.
“Thank you daddy!” Claudia interrupted.
“–And in the years since, has created a powerhouse in the matchmaking business. Despite being a tried and true profession, matchmaking may seem obsolete to many in the age of dating apps. However, Lélio has done the impossible and continues to grow, gaining more and more clients by the year as Lioncourt’s mission statement holds true: leave the swiping behind and a true match you will find."
“Enough!” Lestat begged as he took Daniel’s phone from his hands and placed it on the conference table.
“Wow, that was really something,” Seth said, continuing to laugh.
“If you need a girlfriend Lestat, I’m sure that journalist would fuck you senseless,” Fareed added. “Did you see the picture of you they chose? When did you even take that?”
“It was a modeling job I did for Nylon years ago. I don’t know why they used it. I was young and stupid,” Lestat explained.
“Oh, I know why they used it,” Daniel teased.
“The nipple rings,” Claudia stated as the room erupted into laughter again.
“Those were fake!” Lestat protested weakly. To be fair, the whole situation was laughable. An article had come out detailing Los Angeles’ “most eligible” bachelors. Lestat had not thought much about the article when he saw it after he woke up, only noting the fact that Nicki was also on the list. Lestat should have known that his employees would not let him live it down. They would probably be talking about this for months.
“Alright!” Lestat said, motioning for people to calm down. “We are launching our contest today at ten in which we give away a year of free matchmaking services. Submissions close as soon as we hit the limit, so I want results on my desk by five o’clock, and then you can all head out to the happy hour.”
“I can’t believe we have to sort through two-hundred entries,” Claudia groaned.
“There are ten of you working this launch,” Lestat replied. “Twenty submissions each. And then you all get to abuse my credit card. I’m not asking much, Claudia.”
“Can you also buy us lunch?” Claudia asked.
“Yes, fine,” Lestat answered. “Everyone go to your desks and get ready.”
Lestat left the conference room with everyone else and walked by Jesse who told him his repeat customer Marius was currently on the line waiting for him.
Lestat walked to his office, shut the door, sat down and sighed heavily. Marius was an old customer and an older customer, as well. He seemed to never be able to keep a significant other for more than a month. Lestat appreciated his business, of course, even if his business technically proved that Lestat’s tactics were not always successful. However, Marius was pushy . He was attractive and rich which worked in his favor, but he still managed to shoot way outside his reach when it came to matches. He believed he deserved the best, and whatever Lestat threw his way was never enough.
Lestat picked up his phone. “Marius, hello.”
“Hello you,” Marius answered. “I just can’t seem to stay away.”
Lestat imagined slamming his head into his desk. “Looking for another match so soon?”
“It’s been four months, Lestat,” Marius replied. “A record for me.”
Lestat forced a laugh. “Yes, I guess so. What was the issue this time?”
“Oh, she wanted kids eventually. Wanted to settle down,” Marius said, sounding bored.
“Yes, well at the end of the day, a life-long connection is what we offer, Marius. You know that,” Lestat pointed out, inwardly cursing the older man for creating another awkward situation in which Lestat would have to talk to the other party and apologize on Marius’ behalf again .
“Yes, yes. I know that,” Marius confirmed. “And I want that. Just not the marriage and kids part. Can you make that happen, Lestat?”
“You know I’ll try,” Lestat assured him. “Still the same parameters? Would you maybe like to raise your age range a tiny bit? If I could get you a divorcée, she might not want marriage and kids.”
“No. No need,” Marius replied. Lestat pinched the bridge of his nose. Marius wanted a partner between the ages of twenty-three and thirty. He was fifty-five.
“Alright,” Lestat said. “Let me take a look at some files and get back to you on Monday. Could you stop by around noon then?”
“Will do,” Marius concurred. “Thank you, Lestat.”
Lestat hung up the phone call, wondering if nine thirty in the morning was too early to drink.
The winner of the contest was a young man named Armand. He was scheduled to come into the office to meet with Lestat before his team curated a profile and list of suitors for him. Daniel had been the one to vouch for him, and as one of Lestat’s oldest employees, he valued Daniel’s opinion above most others, even if the man had never once been lucky in love himself. Daniel was currently thirty-five years old with one broken engagement and two failed marriages already under his belt.
A director at a local theater, Armand admitted in his submission that he put work first always and very rarely made time for himself. In fact, it had been Armand’s work colleagues who had pushed him to enter the contest at all.
“Isn’t Mister Lonely supposed to be here soon?” Claudia asked, standing in the doorway of Lestat’s office.
“You know, Claudia,” Lestat began. “Not everyone meets their wife on the first day of college. Sometimes people need a little help.”
“Well, you would know,” Claudia said in a sing-song voice, twirling out of the doorway. If Claudia had not been so good at her job and one of his dearest friends, Lestat would have fired her already.
Lestat did not like feeling like a stereotype, yet here he was, finally thirty years old, realizing just how lonely he had been for years. It was not as if he needed to settle down entirely, but years of endless flings that he never allowed to develop into something more suddenly had him feeling unsatisfied . He had his company, he did well for himself, and he was a good-looking man. Now, he felt that he deserved a partner to compliment him and his successes. His employees often joked that his standards were impossible for anyone to reach, but Lestat would not apologize for wanting the best for himself. He always had and he always would. He had helped so many people along the way, perhaps it was finally time to help himself. And if Nicki moving back into town was fate, who was Lestat to try to stop that?
Lestat picked up a call from Jesse letting him know that Armand had arrived, and as he stepped outside to the lobby to greet the man, he saw him laughing at something Daniel had said. Daniel had a very dry sense of humor and was good at making a certain type of person laugh, but he certainly was not everyone's cup of tea. Lestat was positive he was currently witnessing the two men flirting.
“Hello. Armand?” Lestat asked, walking up to him. “I’m Lestat, we spoke on the phone?”
Armand looked slightly embarrassed to have been caught with Daniel. “Yes, hello. Nice to meet you. Thank you for choosing me.”
Lestat shook his hand. “Oh, well that was actually all Daniel,” Lestat responded, nodding at his co-worker. Lestat swore he saw Daniel blush. Weird.
“Why don’t we go to my office to chat quickly before I introduce you to everyone else?” Lestat suggested, leading Armand away from Daniel.
As Armand sat down in Lestat’s office he took in the man’s appearance. He was tall and very slender and he seemed to hunch a bit to try to hide that fact. He had dark, curly hair that was in need of a conditioning mask, and round, brown eyes that were hidden behind glasses. He was dressed, quite literally, the exact way Lestat would expect a cartoon theater director holding a megaphone to dress, with a vest and an ascot. Lestat thanked his lucky stars that despite all this, Armand was very good-looking. There was more than enough potential. And, at the end of the day, it was always easier to get a match for someone who was conventionally attractive, even if Lestat would never say this out loud.
“So, Armand, you’re a director at the Geffen Playhouse? At only twenty-six years old! That’s a great gig,” Lestat started, pulling out his laptop to take notes.
“Oh, yes. I’ve been lucky. I worked there as a teenager and through college, they’ve been kind to me there,” Armand said, slightly deflecting the compliment.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Lestat insisted. “I spoke to your co-workers. They said you would be humble.”
Armand looked down into his lap. “Yes, I am quite proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
“Good!” Lestat responded. He felt a need to help Armand, more than his usual clients. Probably because his usual clients were Instagram influencers desperate to be set up with other Instagram influencers. “So, you want to be set up. Why is that?”
Armand looked confused at the question. “Doesn’t everyone want to find love?”
Lestat laughed. “Sure, maybe eventually. Unless you’re aromantic. I just mean, you’re young, there’s no need for you to settle down. Why now?”
“Oh,” Armand paused. “I guess I’m not necessarily looking to get married and have kids yet– I mean, maybe, if I met the right person. But, the truth is that I’m lonely. I’ve never been in a serious relationship before.”
Lestat ignored the pang of sympathy he felt. “Well, that’s more than okay. And a good place to start. Why don’t you tell me what your type is?”
Armand shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but launched into his lengthy answer. “I would like someone who loves theater, of course. Liking art in general would be nice. I like people who are kind of sarcastic. People who are thoughtful. Someone who likes cats. I’m originally from New York, so, someone who is not necessarily ‘LA,’ if you know what I mean.”
“And onto the superficial,” Lestat chuckled. “I know it might feel harsh to answer but, do you prefer blondes, brunettes, red-heads? Any height requirements? Women? Men? I’ll also need an age bracket from you.”
Armand thought about his answers for a bit. “Hair definitely doesn’t matter to me. I guess I lean towards brunettes more often than not, no offense—”
Lestat titled his head up to flip his blonde locks dramatically.
“—I like both men and women, and I recognize I’m pretty tall, so I don’t need someone to be taller than me. As for age… Well, I wouldn’t want to date someone younger than me. I actually much prefer someone older.”
Armand said this last part as if he was embarrassingly admitting to a mommy or daddy kink. Lestat raised an eyebrow.
“Ten years older? Twenty years older? I have a client who is fifty-five, who would no doubt love to take you out,” Lestat joked.
Armand seemed to consider this. “Yeah, fifty-five would be okay. I would prefer more in the thirties, but I would be open to older.”
Holy shit.
Lestat did not want to admit to Armand or himself that he had described Daniel perfectly when an answer to his “Marius Problem” had just presented itself.
Daniel, though one of Lestat’s best employees, was a tough nut to crack. Perpetually disillusioned by anything and everyone around him, Lestat often wondered how he had managed to get three women to agree to marry him. Lestat supposed it was Daniel’s no nonsense attitude when it came to appearances, something you did not see often in Los Angeles. Lestat could see how that could be extremely appealing. Daniel had the ability to read people like a book— he saw through everyone’s bullshit and could tell you who you were with just one look. He constantly scored the most genuine clients at the office, always being able to find a diamond in the rough. Daniel had also explicitly told Lestat time and time again that he never wanted to be set up.
Marius, on the other hand, was desperate to be set up. With someone young enough to be his kid. And Armand had been delivered to Lestat on a silver platter. If Lestat gave Armand a tiny makeover, and boosted his confidence a bit more, he would be Marius’ type, exactly.
“Well thank you, Armand,” Lestat said evenly. “I’ll get you a list by the end of the week so we can start setting up dates. Of course, if things do not work out at first, you have us for a full year. But just between you and me, I think I have someone perfect for you already.”
Armand smiled widely as he quickly glanced outside the glass wall of Lestat’s office to see Daniel walk by. Lestat ignored the pit in his stomach.