Page 47 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Preston

“ H ave you considered staying out here for the summer?”

“You planning on keeping my auntie across the pond?”

I grin. “Is that a serious question?”

Jewel and I have kept every one of our check-ins since the day we met.

Our video calls are a highlight, outside of spending time with her aunt, who she assumes is heading back to New York.

Having Jewel here would be a win-win. She mentioned London-based groups who advocate against environmental racism and the impacts of climate change on low-income communities.

“Sure you don’t want to reconsider? I know a guy with free housing…”

“ I know a guy. Don’t try too hard to sound like us,” she jabs with a snort.

“I spent many years at boarding school outside New York. I don’t try, I am,” I wink.

Jewel sits up from what has to be the largest bean bag I’ve ever seen. “Did you go to school over here because of your mama?”

And to get away from my father.

I nod and clear my throat. “My mother died after childbirth during one of my father’s work trips. Environmental conservation was her passion. I picked it up and donate to the same charities. But I want to do more.”

“Great-Mawmaw lived in St. James Parish—part of what we call ‘Cancer Alley’—until she moved in with us because of respiratory issues,” Jewel explains about the former matriarch of her family.

“I loved every minute growing up with her as a kid, and I assumed she moved because she wanted to be closer. Not because of cancer.”

She wipes away a tear. “Many people are living out death sentences in frontline communities because of fossil fuel plants stationed near neighborhoods that look like us. Regulation is a joke, which is why it’s no surprise Louisiana is one of the top carbon-producing states.

This is why I fight, Preston. Because billionaires inflict harm.

They donate to charities and pat themselves on the back with one hand and receive tax breaks in the other.

We’ve normalized their existence at the expense of ours. ”

Hearing Jewel weaponize her pain for the greater good stirs at my chest. She’s among countless young activists, unashamed and unafraid to challenge the status quo.

I’m not directly responsible for her great-grandmother’s death, but I benefit from the same systems as the people who are.

“You once asked me what more you can do,” she says, the window of vulnerability now shut behind stoic eyes underneath a hoodie of curls. “Your efforts are commendable, but you understand billionaires and equity can’t coexist.”

“I do.”

A slight smile peeks out. “My answer to you would be to take yourself out of the equation. The fewer billionaires this world has, the better off we’ll be.”

My sigh carries through the corner office I inherited from my father. Financial stability isn’t in question, ultra-wealth is.

“Anything else?” My question earns a chuckle. Jewel knows, as I do, that untethering myself from my legacy won’t happen overnight.

“Yeah, Richie Rich.” She smiles. “Keep loving my auntie the way you are.”

“I intend to.”

For the rest of my life.

“I told you to take them off.”

Madison squirms in my lap, inviting my dick to prod the cotton material that separates us. I groan and cup her breasts over her shirt when she rolls her hips. “Don’t play with me, Puff.” I nip her neck.

The look she aims over her shoulder is all I need to lift her, unzip my trousers, and sit her on the rod she wants to tease so badly.

Granted, I did pull her into my lap to share the lunch we ordered, but I was the perfect gentleman.

Until she bounced on me reaching for the soy sauce as if she didn’t know what she was doing.

“Coat my dick, baby. Fuck.” My fingers dig into the skirt bunched at her hips.

This woman must have cowboys in her lineage the way she rides me with precision. She tosses back a smirk, lifts up, and swirls her hips over my tip in slow circles to tease an orgasm. Her pelvis rolls, and she bounces her ass.

“Hey, Thumper,” she says, her hands spread on my knees, her grin flooded with pleasure.

“Shut up,” I pant as she laughs at my leg shaking uncontrollably.

“You can take it,” she teases.

“So can you.”

Madison’s gasp is an aphrodisiac. I want to hear it every day. Her hands fly to my desk when I stand up. The motion leaves her cheek firmly pressed into polished wood, just the way I like it. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“I told you not to play with me.” I kick her stilettos apart and smile at her whimper. The smack to her round ass echoes across the office.

It’s another rainy day in London. Perfect for fucking between meetings.

We’ve been inseparable since I flew to Los Angeles over a month ago.

I was serious when I told Madison I love her and will do whatever it takes for this to work.

Delegating tasks I should’ve taken off my plate years ago and removing myself from meetings that could’ve been emails created more space to pursue the woman whose pussy is seconds away from putting me in a coma.

KD took leave when we returned to London.

She’s been quieter than usual, only sending word about her departure through her assistant.

I care for her, but I won’t allow Madison to feel like she’s in competition for my heart or my loyalty.

She has both. I was serious when I told KD the games have to stop. If they don’t, she’s out—friend or not.

My release comes in grunts. Madison grins through a breathless sigh, the evidence of our arousal coating her thighs.

I spin her around, and her ass hits the desk. “Paint your name on my pussy,” I whisper into her ear.

Black heels anchor her to the edge of my desk. With her eyes on me, the tops of her fingers trace her swollen lips. They spread through our cum and trail up to her clit. Her breath snags, the hazel in her eyes darkening.

The sight of her and the promise of another orgasm soaking her hand and spelling her name reanimates my dick. She makes it to “S” before I’m back inside her.

We can’t keep our hands off each other—here in London, in New York while Puff handled her business, and in Austin where we met up with Kojo. Imagine our surprise when we ran into Justice at a café. Our Texas reunion allowed Madison the chance to apologize for whatever harm she caused.

Life is perfect.

My office resets to paperwork on my desk and the lukewarm food we moved to the coffee table near the sofa. Our clothes are back in place, with only a few wrinkles to hint at our activities.

“Mr. Donnelley, I have Ms. Kidwell,” Stephanie announces through the intercom.

Madison’s hand falters, but she eats a bite of sashimi with a tightened grip on her chopstick. “I’m okay,” she says, too far from my desk to reach. I move toward her, but she shoos me away. “Handle your business.”

I nod and hit the button to respond to Stephanie. “Send her through.” I pick up the receiver but am met with a dial tone. Did she hang up?

The main door to my office opens. KD struts past Madison without a glance. My brows pinch at why she’s in front of my desk and not on the other end of the phone line.

“I’m in the middle of lunch with my lady,” I say with what little courtesy I can muster at her dropping by unannounced, “and you’re on leave for a few more weeks.”

“That’s why I’m here.” She lifts her chin. “What I have to say can’t wait.”

Is she quitting? Losing her as CFO would sting, but it might be for the best.

“Go on.” I motion to the floor and lean back in my chair.

KD tucks her hands into her suit coat pockets. Her top peeks out from behind lapels and high-waist ankle trousers. Her mouth twists at the fact I haven’t told Madison to leave. Call me an asshole, but I don’t want her feeling like another woman can run her out.

Seconds pass until KD sighs. “I guess you can stay for this,” she says to Madison, her glare trained on me. “I’m pregnant.”