Page 18 of Tender Offer
“I have time before I go between Demi’s legs for dessert.” His hip check is a signal to move so he can do the dishes.
My kitchen isn’t the smallest, but it doesn’t fit multiple people in it at once. I slide over to one of the brass barstools, my feet lazily swinging in slouch socks. I enjoy dressing up to go out. But once I’m in, I’m all about comfortable loungewear. The oversized flannel shirt I’m wearing is quite comfy, thank you very much.
“So?” Kojo places the glass he washed on the drying rack.
“So. You already helped me mend a broken heart from him once. I’d rather not go down that path again.”
His face twists. “When did I do that?”
“Fifteen years ago,” I say. “In Paris.”
The steady flow from the kitchen faucet is the only sound in the room. Memories surge, taking me back to the night I ran away from a man who tore me down with his words and a look I’ll never forget. It was the same night I met Kojo, who was putting on a makeshift fashion show in front of the venue I rushed out of like Cinderella minutes before midnight.
His face held the same look then as it does now. Drawn brows. Pursed lips. Eyes sweeping over me for injuries. He wipes his hands on his black chinos and reaches me in two steps for a hug.
Kojo and I spent most of that evening walking, the threads of our friendship reaching out to bind us together. I never mentioned Preston’s name, but I told him everything. In hindsight, disclosing so much of myself to a complete stranger in the middle of the night in a foreign country was wild. But that’s me and Kojo. We’re platonic kindreds who fit together effortlessly. Little did I know, he also attended Bodie and was in France for an internship he’d gotten through a fashion connection.
He was my rock those last few months in a foreign city. He helped mend me back to life in ways I’ll never be able to repay. I’ve cried myself to sleep too many times reliving the love Preston and I had before it crashed and burned. I’m not doing it again.
“What do you need from me?” Kojo brushes my hair from my cheek and presses a kiss to it.
“I’ll be okay. Seeing him again threw me for a loop, you know? He just showed up to my room with the breakfast I ordered like it was nothing.”
“How was he there with that basic toast and jam you call a meal?” We chuckle.
“Leave my food alone since you won’t share yours.” I push him away with a laugh that stretches into a sigh. “On the way to the airport—”
“You shared a ride?” Kojo presses a hand to his chest and gasps. I meet his gaze and burst out laughing.
None of this is funny, but how can I keep a straight face when he’s staring like Durand Bernarr in front of a camera?
I wipe tears out of my eyes. “It was the only way to get home. He got a car and drove me to the airport himself.”
“Aww—oop!” Kojo catches the compliment he was about to give and tosses it over his shoulder. “Nothing wrong with a ride, and a free one at that. How did he end up at the same hotel? Was he there for the retreat?”
“No,” I say. “It’s the wildest thing. He owns the resort and just so happened to be there on vacation. This manownsseveral hotels here and abroad. Why are you looking at me like that?”
Kojo scurries over to his coat, which is draped on a living room chair. “What’s his last name?”
“Donnelley.” Why does it matter?
He’s back at my side with his face glued to his phone. Identical brows plummet, and a finger zips across the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“The hotel I’m staying at is a Donnelley Brand.”
“Okay. He has money. So what?”
Wealthy men never impressed me. Their hearts are usually stone, and they treat anyone they deem beneath them like shit. That’s one of the things that attracted me to Preston. He was different…until he proved to be the same as the rest.
“Regine!”
“What?!” I jump at his shout. He scared the shit out of me.
There’s only one other time I’ve seen Kojo look like this, somewhere between excitement and death. We were in the same room as André Leon Talley—may he rest in peace—and I had to catch this fool after he touched the hem of his garment. Kojo is Preston’s height. Silk is slippery, and we almost ended up on the floor.
Now his eyes lift with a world of questions.
