Page 12 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Madison

Fifteen Years Ago

“ I think you’re making a mistake.”

“This view of the Eiffel Tower says otherwise.” I bring the porcelain teacup to my lips for a cautious sip of Earl Grey tea. The citrus aroma blends with rising steam to scent the morning air. Drinking tea out on the balcony has become my favorite pastime.

“You’re moving too fast,” Tammi says.

“And you’re wasting my minutes.” I chuckle at her teeth kissing on the other end of the phone. “I told you the circumstances. I had a choice to make.”

Heather failed to mention that the nine-month study abroad trip I inherited only came with three months of housing.

She opted out of the dorms and never got around to booking a rental for the school year.

Imagine my shock when the building owner told me I had forty-eight hours to vacate the premises.

Another tenant had rented the unit for the remainder of the year, leaving me assed out in every sense of the word.

My so-called friend shrugged off my eviction with an “oops!” and that was that.

The host university had no available rooms, and my savings account dared me to find the thousands of dollars I’d need to keep a roof over my head.

Not to mention, the paid internship fell through, courtesy of Heather, who eventually stopped responding to my emails.

Preston flew back from a business trip to move me into his penthouse. “No” wasn’t an answer. Neither was me leaving early. That was two weeks ago. Did I expect to be shacking up with a man who was only supposed to be a fling? No, but Tammi never misses the chance to scold me about it.

“Okay, Julia Roberts,” she says. “Keep pretending to be Pretty Woman with a man you barely know. Preston could be out eating people whole while you’re playing house.”

Tea shoots through my nose at a cackle too undignified for this district. Between the luxury shops and the five-star hotels, she might be onto something.

“ What’s your dream? ” Tammi mocks. I double over in laughter.

“Tam,” I plead.

“Lemme guess. You’re perched up in a fancy white hotel robe with your toes out and your hair down. Is Edward negotiating mergers?”

I shift in the lounger to tuck my bare feet under the thickest cotton to ever grace my skin.

“Hmm?”

“The robe isn’t white. It’s navy,” I mumble.

The line goes quiet until we both bust out laughing.

“How are you not waking the dead with that donkey laugh?” I wipe the tears from my face.

“Bitch, everyone is asleep.” Tammi snorts like what I said is offensive and not the truth.

“Excuse me, Ms. PK? What was that? Pastor Johnson didn’t catch what you said.”

“ Bitchhh ,” she whispers.

If Tammi’s dad is anything like mine, she has him wrapped around her finger—pulpit and all.

Tammi went back to her college before Labor Day. We had fun as roommates, and we email to stay in touch. She’s one of the realest people I know, even if she jumps to conclusions all the way from Detroit.

My laughter fades through a sigh painted in frosted air. “You act like I had my bags packed and waiting by the door. Preston is in and out. We’re—” What are we? “We aren’t looking for anything serious.”

Come spring, my time in Paris ends. I’ll go home, and Preston will continue with whatever business has him working long hours between cities. Tammi can save her speech. Our chemistry is off the charts, but I know his type.

“Clearly not.” Tammi’s neck roll swivels through our six-hour time difference. “You’re in his penthouse right now.”

“With my own bedroom and private bath,” I clarify.

“He still doesn’t know your name! He’s probably flying back and forth to his wife and kids—or his mistresses scattered across every major capital.”

I grab my tea and head inside to an empty living area with fancy molding and Buckingham Palace floors. Every room comes with views of the district.

“Tam, I promise I’m okay. I like Preston, but I’m not some na?ve girl who thinks meeting a handsome man—”

“Who might have a hidden family—”

“He doesn’t.” I laugh and sit on the sofa. Like clockwork, room service delivers fresh fruit with a pastry every morning. Today’s is pain au chocolat . I hold the phone in the crook of my neck and dig in. “His family business keeps him on a plane, not a wife and kids.”

“And where is he now?” Detective Johnson interrogates.

“London, I think.”

“See!” she says, like she solved a game of Clue.

“No!” I mock her aha! tone. “We talk on the phone, and we email.”

“Every day?”

“Just about,” I say around a bite of flaky dough. “There are times he works late, but he always makes a point to check in. Stop looking for a scandal that isn’t there, Tam. He’s kind and considerate. Being with him is easy, but we have an expiration date. Simple as that.”

“Maddie. I don’t want to see you get hurt.

Just…take care of yourself, okay? Getting so close so quickly could be a recipe for disaster, especially if you’re not up-front about who you are.

” Tammi gentles her voice. We’ve only been friends for as long as I’ve known Preston, but we tell each other everything.

“I hear you,” I say. “Put your books away and get some sleep.”

She yawns. “Don’t have to tell me twice. Same time in two weeks?”

“It’s a date.”

Tammi and I kicked off our junior year with jobs.

She’s interning at a financial services company to build her résumé.

My part-time gig is less sexy. I tutor French students in English at the host university.

The money is decent, and the hours are flexible.

I don’t have to rely on my credit card, and I earn spare change to buy international calling cards.

Preston offers to pay for whatever I need. Money is no object to him, but to me, it’s freedom. I refuse to put myself in a situation where I have to rely on a man to take care of me. Staying in his penthouse already crosses that line.

Tam’s words sit with me for the rest of the day.

Am I in over my head? I’ve never lived with a man before.

So far, it’s good. There’s no pressure to do anything I don’t want to do—not that I see him all the time.

We haven’t had sex yet, which is an anomaly.

We can’t keep our hands or mouths off each other, but it never escalates to more.

Preston is affectionate with forehead kisses and hugs. We go out on dinner dates or strolls whenever he’s here, and he still makes his presence known while he’s away, sending the sweetest handwritten cards with his flowers.

Maybe Tammi is right. Maybe Preston has someone else who satisfies that physical part of him. I don’t want to believe it, but if he pays for this penthouse, he can afford a harem.

We talk about our lives to a certain extent. Part of the reason I hold back is because he does. I can’t be homeless and sprung.

I told myself not to jump into another relationship, and I won’t with someone who lives overseas—even if he takes my breath away with a single look.

When our time together ends, I’ll walk away.

No hard feelings.

No regrets.