Page 32 of Tender Offer
Masochism might be an unlocked kink the way my dick is petrified against my leg. No one in their right mind would talk to me how Madison just did. She doesn’t give a shit about my title or net worth. It’s one of the things I love about her.
“I assure you, I’m not here to play any games, Ms. Monroe,” I say. “I don’t have a stylist, and I’d like to hire you.”
“Doesn’t look like you need one.” Her accusing gaze hardens the delicate edges of her face.
I grin. “You think I look good?”
“Preston.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I cannot afford for you to play with my business.” Her scowl drops in a plea. “If you’re not serious—”
“I’m not here to play with your head or your heart.” I take her hand. To my surprise, she lets me.
I don’t speak out of fear she’ll snap out of the trance that’s charging the air between us. Being this close to her again stimulates my mind and body.
Contemplation softens her features as she fights to resist the force that’s pulling us back together. To finish what we started, heal what we left undone.
With her eyes on mine and a long breath, she surprises me.
“We do this on my terms. I’m here for the rest of the week, and I can squeeze in a wardrobe analysis.” Her eyes narrow. “Ifour professional agreement works, I’ll consider keeping you on as a client. You’ll pay an hourly fee for my services. Flights and accommodations for any special events are on you.”
“No.”
“No?” Madison’s eyebrow raises.
I commend her for her business prowess, but I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t go after what I wanted.
I roll my bottom lip between my thumb and index finger. Madison tries to maintain her curtness, but I earn a living reading people. Right now, her tone is terse, but the desire pooling behind her dilated pupils and shuttering the breath she fights to steady says otherwise.
“I’d like to hire you for a closer collaboration.” I shift my knees away in preparation for any blows to my shins. “Three months. You here in London, with me.”
Her eyes grow two sizes. “Are you out of your mind? I can’t leave my life behind!”
“Not leave, relocate. Temporarily.”
She scoffs and stares out the window.
“I imagine your clients aren’t all in New York,” I continue, my focus steady on her profile. “You’ll still travel as needed.”
“And where will I stay? Your place?” she deadpans.
I swallow a smirk. “Might I remind you, I own several properties. You’d have access to the finest amenities.”
Silence settles in the middle of the table. I’ll make some concessions, but I have no intention of letting her waltz out of my life. Not without a fight.
Madison processes what a temporary stay would mean. Triumph floods through me when she draws in a deep breath and sighs.
“I have responsibilities in New York. I don’t want to be away that long.”
“You’re free to come and go as you please,” I say.
After a long pause, she traps me in a stare that lets me know I shouldn’t push more than I already have. “Three months. You pay for my stay and a base salary of seventy-five thousand. Any needs or special events outside of standard work hours activates an hourly rate of two hundred and fifty pounds. I leave when I want to, and I won’t stay beyond our three-month agreement. Do we have a deal?”
Madison’s response is sharp, her tone final. I would’ve agreed to sign away the deeds to all my homes the moment she said yes.
“We have a deal, Ms. Monroe.” I smile and extend a hand, which she shakes. I lean closer. “Just so we’re clear, your rates are too low. Let’s triple your fees. I’m in a different league, and so are you.”
I press a kiss to the tremor in her jaw. “I look forward to our arrangement, Puff.”
Whether Madison knows it or not, she gave me a priceless gift: her time.
