Page 12 of Merry with a Tycoon

I change quickly and head to the studio space at the back of HarmonyWorks. It’s one of my favorite parts of the shop, a serene oasis where we offer yoga and meditation classes. As I roll out my mat, I take a deep breath, already feeling some of the tension leaving my body.

Mira, tonight’s instructor, begins the class with a gentle Om. I close my eyes, willing my racing thoughts to slow down.

Just breathe, Crystal. In and out. Forget about Preston, forget about the rent, forget about–

A sudden creak pierces the calm. Despite my best efforts to stay centered, one eye betrays me, cracking open just a sliver.

My breath catches.

No. It can't be.

Both eyes fly open now, and I nearly topple out of my cross-legged position. There, in the doorway, stands the very man I've been trying to forget. Preston Hollister, looking surprisingly at ease in fitted athletic wear, a yoga mat tucked under one arm. And behind him, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, is his ever-present bodyguard, Javi.

The serenity I'd been cultivating evaporates in an instant. My heart, which had just begun to slow, now races with a vengeance. Of all the yoga studios in Love Beach, he had to walk into mine.

Mira, bless her, doesn’t miss a beat. “Welcome,” she says serenely. “We’re glad you’ve joined us. Let’s begin with some simple stretches.”

As we move into the first pose—a basic forward fold—I sneak a glance at Preston. To my surprise, he eases into the pose with unexpected grace, his palms flat on the mat beside his feet. Iblink in disbelief. Since when does Preston Hollister, the man known more for his golf swing and polo stance, practice yoga?

We transition into Warrior II, and my jaw nearly drops. Preston’s form is impeccable, his arms strong and steady, his gaze focused. This is not the fumbling attempt I expected from a novice. Javi, on the other hand, is struggling, his muscular frame not quite as flexible.

As the class progresses, I find myself continually distracted by Preston’s smooth movements and controlled breathing. During Tree Pose, while Javi wobbles and nearly topples over, Preston stands steady, his eyes closed.

“Now, let’s move into Downward Dog,” Mira instructs. I ease into the pose, feeling the familiar stretch in my hamstrings. Unable to resist, I peek over at Preston again, already knowing what I’m going to see. Sure enough, his form is textbook perfect, heels almost touching the ground, back straight, arms strong.

But despite his surprising yoga prowess, I’m still angry about the rent increase, overriding any grudging admiration I might have felt during class.

I’m rolling up my mat when I feel him come up beside me.

“Crystal?” Preston’s voice is low, cautious. “Could we talk for a moment?”

I spin to face him, crossing my arms. “About what? About how you’re going to price us all out of business?”

He winces, his earlier confidence seeming to deflate a bit. “That’s actually what I wanted to discuss. There’s been a misunderstanding about the rent increase. I’d like to explain, if you’re willing to listen.”

I narrow my eyes, studying him. He looks sincere, but then again, he always does. That’s part of what makes him so dangerous. “Fine,” I say finally. “You have five minutes.”

Relief flashes across his face. “Thank you. But would you mind if we discussed this over coffee? Or tea? I’d rather not have this conversation here.”

I glance around, noticing a few curious onlookers. As much as I’d like to shut Preston down right here, he has a point. I need to remain professional. “Fine. The cafe next door. Give me ten minutes to close up here.”

Relief washes over his face. “Thank you. What would you like me to get you?”

“I usually have the caramel apple tea.”

Ten minutes later, I push open the door to Beans & Dreams, the cozy coffee shop next to HarmonyWorks. Preston is already seated at a corner table, two steaming mugs in front of him.

“Caramel apple tea, just as you requested,” he says as I sit down.

“Thanks,” I mutter, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “So, talk.”

“First, I want to apologize,” he begins. “The rent increase was not my idea, and I had no knowledge of it until you came to my office.”

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “How is that possible? It’s your company.”

“It’s my cousin Teddy’s doing,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “My mother gave her control of the property management division as a favor despite her lack of experience. I... I should have been paying closer attention, but I’ve been so focused on our international expansion that I let things slip here at home.”

The regret in his voice seems genuine, but I’m not ready to let him off the hook just yet. “So what are you going to do about it?”

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