Page 37 of Tender Offer
“If you worried more about this company and less about playing Captain Planet, maybe you’d do more than waste our time with your eco-friendly bullshit.” His nostrils flare.
Tell.
I temper my response to his sharp retort and chuckle when he puts his hands on his hips.
Tell.
It shouldn’t satisfy me to make my father this rattled, but unlike him, I’m not a liar or a cheat.
I stuff a hand into my pocket and graze the silk lining, holding an old charm I keep for good luck. “Better get on, then” is all I say.
He looks between me and William, who’s now at my side. With a huff, he rips his overcoat from his chair in a dramatic fashion.
“Prick,” William mutters. “The board will get its head out of its ass one day.”
“Agreed.” I nod. All good things take time. I look at my watch and head back to the conference table to pack up my laptop. “I’m on my way out. I have a date tonight.”
“Where?”
I smile. “My wardrobe.”
Chapter 21
Madison
Iknow a date when I see one.
Who in their right mind has a small table for two with restaurant-quality linens in their closet? Billionaire or not, Preston is not slick. He’s fine—and wearing the hell out of that fleece jogger and hoodie combo—but he’s not slick.
The rust-colored fabric is the perfect contrast against his warm honey skin. It was a surprise when he opened his penthouse door. I wasn’t expecting the casual look or the music with soft lighting. Preston swore it’s his way of unwinding after a long day.
With theWaiting to Exhalesoundtrack.
Chanté Moore’s “Wey U” filters through his walk-in closet, the location for our business meeting that isn’t a date.
A man in an all-black outfit wheels in a silver cart with two matching domes. The closet is so big, it takes him a minute to navigate around the island and round ottoman.
Preston raises his hands when I cut my eyes to him. “Not a date. I figured dinner and business can coexist.”
“Dinner and business,” I mock.
His shoulder lifts. “It’s pretty common. Have you eaten?”
My stomach answers with a long gargle. “I could eat.”
He wets the lower lip that’s been taunting me since he caught me staring. “Sounds like it.” I roll my eyes at his deep chuckle.
The man, who I assume is a server, places a dome in front of me. “Sirloin tip roast with honey-roasted carrots and parsnips,” he says.
“Thank you” comes out in a moan at the buttery flavors wafting from the plate. My toes curl in the cotton slippers Preston gave me when I arrived.
He thinks of everything.
Including the candle the server sets between us and lights.
“Not a date?” I deadpan.
Preston’s mouth spreads into a dimpled smile. “Came with the meal.”
