Page 20 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Preston

P assing clouds lift over the buildings across the street, teasing the first streaks of sunlight since this meeting started. It’s the only thing keeping me in my chair and not reaching across the conference table to put hands on the man who’s daring me to defy gravity.

“It’s settled. We continue with the Maldives project as planned.” Steel blue eyes scour the room for objections. His mouth coils to bare the edges of white veneers. A brow raises to signal my move.

Victor Donnelley railroading board meetings is nothing new. Neither is the father-son duel he insists on carrying out to prove that, even in retirement, he’s still the chairperson and the largest shareholder of the Donnelley Brand.

It’s a testament to his strength that no one has tried their hand at knocking some humility into him.

I’m not a violent man, but I wouldn’t blame anyone who took a swing.

He’s ruffled a lot of feathers over his years on the board.

My grandfather is the only one who stood up to my father and put him in his place.

Their relationship—if you could call it one—did not reflect the love a parent has for their child. They were competitive. Ruthless.

Hugh Kidwell, my father’s longtime ally, looks beyond the table of annoyed board members, too timid to speak. If opposites attract, these two are soulmates.

Where my father favors David James Gandy, Hugh was Jason Alexander in a past life, down to his five-foot-five frame and balding hairline. They’ve been business partners since I was a kid, and they’ve always had the same dynamic:

My father says jump.

Hugh asks how high.

“We have a responsibility to reduce our footprint,” I say to command the attention back in the room. Six active board members and not one backbone. The only voting member of this body who doesn’t kiss my father’s ass without a fight is my brother.

William slouches in his executive chair, grinning at his phone, no doubt because of a woman. Always enjoying a life of “peace and pussy.” Certain burdens were never his to carry in the first place, like running the Donnelley Brand.

His eyes snap to me when I clear my throat.

“As I was saying”—I stand and button my navy blazer—“it’s a minimal investment to ensure our site doesn’t destroy local ecosystems.”

While our properties are boutique in scale, coral reefs suffer from new development. It costs nothing to not be a prick, a lesson my father could never afford.

I grab the clicker to activate the screen on the back wall.

Heads swivel in a streak of gray hair and suits to the projections my finance team created.

Sustainable initiatives go a long way when done with intention.

I’ve fought for this company to be the best, to help urge the industry to prioritize equity over exploitation.

“We have an opportunity to move in a new direction,” I say, taking in each head nod. “If there aren’t any questions, I’d like to call a vote.”

One thing my father taught me is to never back down from a fight. He’s never fought fair, so I square my shoulders and wait with arms crossed over my chest.

I’ve never been afraid of Victor Donnelley—or any man.

“Very nice presentation, Preston. Thoughtful, but not compelling enough. I cast my votes in the negative.” Condescension spills from the frown lines in his smirk. My father glances at Hugh, who nods at the table. The old prick can’t even look me in the eye.

I press my lips shut at his cowardice. We’ve held board meetings in this room since the Donnelley Brand purchased the building under my father’s reign.

Every meeting is the same: Victor Donnelley voices his desires, and the board folds.

Only three members vote in the negative, but we don’t have enough voting shares to overrule him.

With the power of two votes at my father’s fingertips, the final blow comes from Hugh’s son.

Michael isn’t a prick like his father, but he’s eager for validation. Hugh was intentional in securing his son’s board placement. Not his daughter, who he encouraged to stay in Paris. She’s the damn CFO without a seat at the table.

I don’t waste a breath asking Michael if his head is out of his father’s ass today. His awkward tugs at his collar are a giveaway it’s not. He nods like a bobblehead, reaches for his water glass, and downs it in one go.

William scoffs at the display and rocks in his seat.

“I believe that does it,” my father says. His timbre is a gavel that signals the end of the meeting.

He stands and shakes hands with his minions. After the CEO reins passed to me, he grew his shares to maintain his influence as insurance. He knew I’d lead differently, and now he makes it impossible to step outside the bounds he created to maintain our family legacy.

“Nice attempt, son.” He pats my back like he’s not the reason for my defeat. “Today wasn’t your day.”

If it weren’t for the smug look on my father’s face, I’d give him credit for sounding like a caring parent. He’s tried to be one here and there over the years, but he soured our relationship with the same bitterness he and my grandfather once held for each other.

“Let me not keep you,” I say. “It’s Hendon today, or is it Beckenham?”

“Gotta be Canonbury,” William calls from the other end of the table. A tight smile masks his disdain for our father disrespecting his mother. The indiscretions are no secret. He’s kept long-standing mistresses across London since he remarried, and he rotates weekly visits.

At sixty-three, Victor Donnelley is a handsome man who feels no shame pulling ladies in with his silver fox appeal or cheating on his wife.

I told Briar to leave him decades ago. She’s still holding out hope that he’ll slow down and commit to only her now that he’s retired.

It’s been eight years. It hasn’t happened yet.

My father waits for the remaining board members to trickle out the door before he responds. A muscle tightens his jaw, ruffling the age lines around his mouth. You’ll never see him sweat, but there are a few tells when you get under his skin.

“Where I go does not concern you or your brother.” He kisses his teeth.

Tell.

“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.”