Page 84 of Tender Offer
Chapter 41
Madison
Fifteen Years Ago
Adim flame flickers on a narrow wick. The scent of vanilla lingers before I blow out the lone taper candle with a heavy sigh. Light clings to the small feast on the table, reminiscent of my childhood. It was full of good butter and hours spent next to the stove.
Roasted turkey.
Rice dressing.
Greens.
Ms. Odilia’s coveted deviled eggs.
A taste of home for Thanksgiving. It’s not a holiday they celebrate here in Paris, but Preston vowed to spend the day with me. At least, that was the plan before a last-minute work trip called him back to London.
Under normal circumstances, such an abrupt pivot wouldn’t bother me. I don’t question my place in his life because he goes out of his way to show me I’m a priority.
But I’m not sure where I fit now.
He’s quieter, more reserved.
I’ve become an afterthought. These days, he only remembers to tell me he’ll be away once he reaches his destination.
The silence is a cold reminder that, beyond the walls of this penthouse, we live worlds apart. In a few months, I’ll go back to a life of cramped dorm-room living and humid summers on the bayou.
I hope we can squeeze in more time until we revert to the people we were before that fated day in the museum. Time is running out, and I fear this is the beginning of our end.
Chapter 42
Madison
Present Day
Inever readThe Art of War.I don’t fully grasp the philosophies of battle. But I did watchThe Karate Kidgrowing up, and striking first without mercy is what I intend to do.
My snake print heels glide across hardwood in a calculated march to the executive suite. At dinner last night, Bellamy batted her lashes and laughed down memory lane with Preston and William like I wasn’t there. Her attempts to talk around me were as petty as her inching closer to brush his shoulder and tell jokes that would get her booed off a stage.
Preston and I got into it on the ride back to the penthouse. He still thinks Bellamy choosing me as her stylist is a coincidence. I can’t prove it, but I know calculated when I see it.
The fact that she went to such lengths to cozy up to me is disgusting and trifling. It’s not a coincidence she booked aconsultation and pretended to be friendly to get updates about Preston. I never told her his name—not that I needed to with the games she was playing.
Now it makes sense why she was glaring at me at Ravenous. I didn’t know I was with Preston, but she did.
Research into prospective clients only goes so far. There are no social security numbers or tax returns. Bellamy was vague about her “financial consultant” work, which I now know is her role as CFO. Preston’s company website doesn’t post headshots, not that I would’ve thought to look. And besides, she admitted to using her first and middle name.
Like I said, calculated.
Desperation and merlot were both plentiful last night. Bellamy couldn’t contain her jealousy whenever Preston held my hand or kissed me. It’s clear they’re close, and it’s clearer she wants to break free from the friend zone he keeps her in.
The perk of being a recovering mean girl is the ability to spot ulterior motives. Game recognizes game, and I’ll dance in the gutter with the best of them.
Make no mistake, Prestonismine. His heart, his moans, and that dick. We might not have a title, but I’ll be damned if Ms. Prim and Proper Pantsuit thinks she’ll play in my face.
The Donnelley Brand’s Paris office has Bellamy’s name all over it. The gaudy chandeliers and ornate gold molding scream,Look at me!Who the hell needs cherub wall sculptures lurking in the corner?
“May I help you?”
