Chapter 9

The suburban interviews with Luis Delgado went far smoother than they had expected. Far smoother than what happened at the big club.

The four men who were chosen were:

Caleb Marsh: Tall, quiet, and Southern by upbringing, Caleb had been married once—young love turned early divorce. He stayed single afterward, but never bitter. He dated slowly, with care, always learning. Women described him as “steady,” “attentive,” and “the kind of guy who remembers what you wore three dates ago.” He believed in touch, tone, and timing—and knew that sometimes, what a woman needed most was to feel safe enough to breathe.

Jonah Kim: A former school counselor with a warm smile and the kind of voice that made women lean in. Jonah had been engaged once, but she left him for someone more “exciting.” Instead of becoming jaded, Jonah took it as a lesson: excitement fades—connection doesn’t. He’d dated casually since then, but every woman he met remembered how deeply he listened, how gently he touched, and how easily he made them laugh. He was a safe space in human form.

Mateo Cruz: Mateo was fire wrapped in silk. A lifelong flirt who once juggled too many hearts—but he’d grown up since then. His longest relationship lasted seven years until she moved for a job overseas. They left on good terms. He knew pleasure and passion like a second language, but now he was searching for something deeper—he wanted to give more than he took. He was the kind of man who asked how your day was, and meant it ... before whispering things that made your knees weak.

Bryce Holloway: A Navy veteran who married his high school sweetheart, only to lose her to illness five years ago. Bryce hadn’t dated much since—not seriously—but he understood grief, tenderness, and what it meant to hold someone with your whole soul. He didn’t try to impress women—he showed up for them. Quietly. Consistently. His presence alone made some women tear up without knowing why.

All four got the job offer letters, and all four quickly replied back accepting the jobs. They too would start the very next weekend.

Frank boarded the plane for home. He was tired of traveling, tired of trying to find the perfect match for an unknown job position, but he and his team had done it and that sense of accomplishment felt great.

The flight crew on this particular plane was enthusiastically following various aspects of Rule 8. The male attendants were bare-chested, wearing only tight shorts and aprons. The women wore something similar—satin thong panties beneath their aprons, with their breasts completely exposed. When they bent over to retrieve something from the cart, their most intimate place—barely veiled in satin—was suddenly and clearly visible. The fabric served its hygienic purpose, yes, but its real purpose seemed far more intentional, offering a glimpse of the sacred softness where life begins and pleasure is shared.