Page 53 of Tender Offer
“You’re in a mood.” Her hand snaps to her slender hip in high-waist slacks.
“And you’re observant. Please call Luther to escort you to the car park.” With any luck, I’ll make it home within the hour.
“Should I give Gisele a ring to schedule an appointment?” Whatever reaction Stephanie hopes to conjure doesn’t breach my indifference. She has her suspicions, but she’ll never know the true depths of how I relieve tension.
I’m in my office more than I’m at home, and I satisfy certain appetites with the utmost discretion. Unlike my father, the women who enter for pleasure aren’t my subordinates. The few I have relations with are entrepreneurs and consultants who signed NDAs with the full expectation they’ll leave thoroughly fucked.
Gisele is a corporate accountant, a divorcée in Chelsea with complex mocha curves and a high drive to match. Sex with her is the same as the others: transactional orgasms shared with consent. She is an amazing woman, but the object of my desire touched down in London hours ago.
“Not necessary,” I say, to Stephanie’s shock. “Enjoy your evening.” My tone leaves no room for interpretation, and she finally accepts in a huff. Who I fuck doesn’t concern her outside of checking my availability.
Madison is the first woman who’s made me want more. Her body is a valley of peaks and soft lines, worth a lifetime of exploration, but her heart is the priceless treasure I want to savor and protect.
She was my anchor, soothing my darkest days with the pitch of her laugh and her smile. I didn’t understand what it meant to find your soulmate in your twenties. As a grown man, I know what a gift it is. I have three months to prove that the second time around will be better than the first. Fate reunited us, and I refuse to let go.
I gave Madison her space today, outside of a few texts to make sure she’s okay. I want her ready and rested.
Tomorrow, the chase begins.
Chapter 28
Madison
The walk to Preston’s office felt like a mile even though only feet separate his sidewalk from mine. He probably owns it all, since his wealth climbs beyond the sculpted glass-and-steel structure that bears his name. The building spans eleven floors, eight fewer than the high-rise behind me, which he also owns, a continuity of simple lines and geometric forms.
The sun boomerangs between the mirroring structures and the steady traffic along the tree-lined street. Businesses are open at the early hour, the scent of fresh pastries drifting through the crisp air. It’s a calm morning…except for my pounding heart stumbling to find its rhythm.
The revolving door might as well be a dark void ready to swallow me whole.
Seeing Preston shouldn’t make me this nervous. Our casual texts are now a daily stream of random memes and facts. They remind me of a time when friendship was the core of our intimacy, when talking about nothing felt like everything.
“Just go through the door,” I tell myself.
How foolish do I look staring up at a building?
I’ve seen Preston. I’m well acquainted with the rich musk of his cologne and the way his shoulder blades complement the hard shafts of his thighs.
His presence doesn’t scare me. I survived his dimpled assault and the slow, steady grin he wields with ease. It’s his intentions that give me pause.
“This is just a job,” I whisper, eyes closed in a silent prayer.
Security is manageable through a stream of tailored fabric shuffling in every direction. An athletic man in all black approaches. He’s handsome, with lean muscles, a high taper fro, and a dazzling display of white teeth.
“Ms. Monroe. I’m Dayo, Mr. Donnelley’s head of security,” he says in a deep baritone. “This way.”
We bypass the central bank of elevators for a door with biometric access. It leads to another door inside a sleek concrete corridor with high walls and the illusion of natural light.
“Access to the private car park below is through here.” He points to a door on the left and pulls out a key card from his pocket.
We stop in front of an elevator. Dayo swipes the card over a panel that turns green. “I’ll have one of these to you before you leave. This way.” He motions for me to enter when the doors open.
“How long have you worked for Preston?”
Dayo’s lips part, spreading the sharp lines of his profile into a smirk. “We’ve been in business together since he took over the company eight years ago. He went to boarding school with my half brother, who lives in the States. This is my security firm.”
“Nice.” I nod.
I catch my reflection in the door. Dressing like Cher Horowitz wasn’t intentional, but I went with it, feeling clueless.
