Page 35 of Tender Offer
Preston found a crack in my armor. It’s spread since our first encounter after a fifteen-year hiatus, denting excuses in placeto shield from the disappointment that seems to follow every decision I make about a man.
Leaving and never looking back would have been the easiest choice, but that wouldn’t satisfy the lifetime of questions I have. So, I agreed, and I hope I don’t regret it.
“See your forbidden lover in the crowd?” Kojo flashes his perfect white teeth.
I roll my eyes. “What kind of friend are you, encouraging me to get with a man who already broke my heart?”
“The kind who knows people can change. That was almost two decades ago. You’re far from twenty, and I bet the circumstances would be different this time. This man already showed up at your door with breakfast, chauffeured you to the airport, and offered to pay you three times your styling fee just to keep you here.” He huffs. “If you find out he likes dick, please send him my way.”
I cackle.
Kojo is bisexual and proud, with a Rolodex of partners that’s as long as it is impressive. He damn near got me with the lick of his lips. We came close to sleeping together years ago, but we like each other too much to ruin our friendship.
“Regine, a man does not go to such lengths just to spend time with you, especially if he already had you.”
I arch a brow at his audacity. “Pfft. I’ve had men sprung for less.”
“Be that as it may,” Kojo chuckles, “Preston is ultrarich with access to the best—which you are. His time is money. If he’s investing it in you, it’s likely for more than sex. He can get that anywhere. Didn’t you say he acted out of character when you first called it quits?”
My silence is Kojo’s invitation to keep scraping at the scar I’ve tried to heal.
“Madison,” he says, to get my attention, “you’ve been looking for love for so long. What if it found you after all these years? You already agreed to take him on as a client.”
“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” I say with a pointed look. Kojo has zero shame, and he’d bust it wide open for a bigger discount.
“Don’t judge me. Anyways.” He sucks his teeth. “My point is, don’t close yourself off to an opportunity that’s waiting for you. You entertain men who are either unattainable or should be on the curb with a dusty couch. And before you lie to my face, need I remind you about Earl?Earl!”
“Shh!” I snap.
Earl wasn’t my finest moment. We shared a weekend after we met at a bar. In my defense, it was a gastropub with an international selection of fine wines. One glass turned into a few dates, and soon I was picking up the check and cleaning up his toenail clippings around my apartment.
But that’s not all.
He called himself in love and broke his lease to move in with me. Only one of us got that memo, and it took me threatening to take his behind toThe People’s Courtbefore he finally left. Earl needed a mama more than a relationship, with his laundry demands and constant need for lunch money. I knew he wasn’t the one when we first met, but I prioritized decent sex over seeing enough writing on the wall to fill the Louvre.
I’ll give Kojo Earl, and the many others I knew deep down weren’t a match. But liking unattainable men is a stretch.
Need a reminder about Terrence?
The guilt from that one still stings. Did I know he’d never leave Justice? Yes. Did I try to earn his attention? Also yes. He’s the only other partner who treated me like I matter. Seeing Terrence out whenever our work schedules would cross gave mesomething to look forward to when I needed a recharge from the dating world.
“This is exactly why I’m giving up relationships,” I mutter. I’m messed up in more ways than one, and I’m putting myself in time-out.
“Whatever you say, Regine.” Kojo smirks.
“I’m dead serious. I need a break.”
Preston is a business transaction. I do my job, and in three months, I’m out of here.
Chapter 20
Preston
Passing clouds lift over the buildings across the street, teasing the first streaks of sunlight since this meeting started. It’s the only thing keeping me in my chair and not reaching across the conference table to put hands on the man who’s daring me to defy gravity.
“It’s settled. We continue with the Maldives project as planned.” Steel blue eyes scour the room for objections. His mouth coils to bare the edges of white veneers. A brow raises to signal my move.
Victor Donnelley railroading board meetings is nothing new. Neither is the father-son duel he insists on carrying out to prove that, even in retirement, he’s still the chairperson and the largest shareholder of the Donnelley Brand.
