Page 8 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Preston

Now

D riving Madison to the airport seemed like a good idea until I took the car off the property.

Dual citizenship grants me an American license, which humbles me the moment I put the car in drive.

It’s been years since I’ve been behind the wheel, much less on the right-hand side of the road.

A few trips around the maintenance building and a YouTube video later, I was ready to go.

That hasn’t stopped my nerves from hovering above the floor next to my nuts.

I don’t get anxious, but I’ve been scratching the same spot on my cheek since I drove the four-door sedan up to the entrance of The Ravine. I’ve dreamed of the day I’d see Madison again. Now that it’s here, I’m doing a shit job of keeping it together.

The steering wheel groans under my grip.

I expel a long breath, careful not to swerve us off the road as I steal another glance at her.

I’m under no delusions she’s in the car for anything more than a swift exit out of Colorado.

I’m merely a means to an end. A despised chauffeur offering passage in scratchy bucket seats with subpar heating.

Madison hasn’t looked my way in the two hours and eight minutes we’ve been on the road. The heat emanating from her body threatens to fog every window.

Her attention is outside, somewhere beyond the snowcapped pines that speed past the guardrail. The glare reflecting in the glass holds every feature I want to relearn by heart.

Long lashes sweep across her cheekbones when she faces forward.

The wavy strands that once graced my pillow pull my eyes off the road.

William would laugh in my face if he could see me right now.

My brother calls me unforgiving in the boardroom, and he’s seen firsthand how ruthless I get.

Negotiating and capital allocation require a level of tenacity passed through our DNA.

He doesn’t know about Madison and would question why I’m so rattled.

Until her, no one could rattle me.

The slopes of her curves drew me to her in the museum.

But it was the fire crackling under her beauty smoothed in pecan, the fire that had her seconds from cussing me out, that had me hooked.

My attraction is undeniable, but lust gave way to intrigue.

It was in her heart where I found peace and my counterpart in her intellect.

How do I start a conversation fifteen years too late?

“I’m sorry, Puff.”

The road bends through dead air, the scent of aged leather and cigarettes mixed with magnolia. Sunlight casts itself over a mountain range. London winters get cold, but not below freezing like this. Heat sputters through the vents to paint the edges of the frosted windows.

“I don’t know what twisted game you think you’re playing, but I am not the one.

” The force of Madison’s words presses into my chest. “I won’t let you hurt me again.

I won’t let anyone,” she says, so low I almost miss it.

Her chin trembles as she lifts it in spite.

There’s nowhere to stop and hold her, not that she’d let me.

But I’d endure every scream and bruise if it meant erasing the anguish on her face.

She bites her lip and looks out the window. “Why now? After all this time.”

A world of apologies won’t fit in the time we have left before we reach the airport. It takes superhuman strength not to reach for her hand. “I needed time away, and I chose the property that was farthest from my life. No one would search for me here.”

Madison whips around, shock and confusion urging her brow to her hairline. “You want me to believe you didn’t orchestrate this?” She scoffs. “ Property .” The word is sharp across her tongue. “You own The Ravine?”

I nod.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Real estate.” Every glimpse I gave Madison of my career plays out in her gaze. “I take it you own more than one hotel?”

“Six in this country,” I say.

“Here I thought you were a realtor or something. Guess we both kept secrets.”

It was clear early on that Madison wanted me for me.

It wasn’t my intention to withhold who I was, but we fell into each other’s lives faster than either of us expected, and we proceeded with caution in different ways.

I see that now. But I couldn’t see it before, and it drove her away.

Hindsight is a rearview mirror of regret, and you can’t make things right once time runs out.

“I never had the chance to explain. I should’ve—”

“We’re not doing this,” she snaps, unable to meet my eyes. “It wouldn’t have mattered what I said. You were crystal clear that night. Let it rest, Preston.”

“I searched for you,” I say, my confession thick with emotion. “Letting you go ate me alive. I saw you everywhere—in every bakery window I passed, in every sunset.”

I should’ve done more. Hired a private investigator or flew to the States to look for her myself. Back then, the internet wasn’t what it is today. Any attempt to locate the woman I loved became an impossible search, especially since she was living under a different identity.

My father will never admit the wedge he created when I tried to find her. I don’t need him to, because I lived it. Silence was his only response when I begged him for help. The university wouldn’t release her information. Even with all the money I had, I couldn’t pay for the answers I needed.

“I gave up in my thirties,” I admit. “Business left me no time, and I assumed you’d moved on. My life became in service to the company that’s been the Donnelley crown jewel since my great-grandfather founded it.”

All those lengthy business trips to every part of the world but the US weren’t a coincidence.

Sixty-hour workweeks exhausted me, along with the remnants of confidence I had that we’d eventually reunite.

Once thirty-five hit, I assumed the role of CEO, and that came with more responsibilities to shoulder.

Women and sleepless nights numbed the loss, but only for so long. You never forget your first love.

The exit for the airport appears. I pull the car up to the curb.

“Madison.”

“Preston, please. Pop the trunk.” The door opens, and her boots are on concrete before I get the chance to ask her to stay.

I hit the button for the boot and twist out from the front seat. Madison hauls her luggage out of the boot and steps onto the pavement, headed toward the entrance.

“Wait.” I reach for her. Adrenaline shoots through my veins, quickening my pulse to a beat that might land me in the hospital. I don’t miss the flicker in her eyes, the hint of longing in her gaze that she extinguishes with a blink.

Time withers in a blur of travelers and the hazard lights of idling cars. The thought that she will be the one to walk out of my life this time has my hands stretching out to cup her face. I close my eyes and bow my head to trade the memory of her scent for the possibility of a new beginning.

With one final look, she peels herself away from me. Her hands clutch the collar of her open peacoat as she steps back to put distance between us. “We had our chance. Let’s leave it where it belongs: in the past.” She falls in step with a small crowd and disappears into the airport.

I stand on the curb until security yells at me to move. Finding the piece of my heart I lost is a gift I won’t take for granted.

“See you soon, Puff.”