Merry with a Tycoon (The Love Beach Holiday Collection)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

CRYSTAL

What was I thinking, storming into Preston’s office like that?

So much for all those yoga sessions teaching about staying calm and present. I lost it completely, letting my emotions take over.

What did I expect? That he’d fall to his knees, begging for forgiveness?

But then again, he did promise to take care of the “misunderstanding.” I scoff at the word. A threefold rent increase is hardly a misunderstanding. It’s a deliberate move to push us small business owners out.

So why wasn’t his promise enough? Why do I still feel this churning in my gut?

Is it because I’m starting to feel things for Preston?

I shake my head vigorously, trying to dislodge the thought. No. Absolutely not.

I can’t let myself go down that road. He was a bully to my best friend. And now, with this rent hike... No, just no. Whatever I thought I felt last night when Preston came over for dinner was clearly a mistake.

Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s almost time for the evening yoga class. Thank goodness I’m not teaching tonight. I need this class to center myself, to find some calm in the storm of emotions I’m battling.

I change quickly and head to the studio space at the back of HarmonyWorks. It’s one of my favorite parts of the shop, a serene oasis where we offer yoga and meditation classes. As I roll out my mat, I take a deep breath, already feeling some of the tension leaving my body.

Mira, tonight’s instructor, begins the class with a gentle Om. I close my eyes, willing my racing thoughts to slow down.

Just breathe, Crystal. In and out. Forget about Preston, forget about the rent, forget about–

A sudden creak pierces the calm. Despite my best efforts to stay centered, one eye betrays me, cracking open just a sliver.

My breath catches.

No. It can't be.

Both eyes fly open now, and I nearly topple out of my cross-legged position. There, in the doorway, stands the very man I've been trying to forget. Preston Hollister, looking surprisingly at ease in fitted athletic wear, a yoga mat tucked under one arm. And behind him, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, is his ever-present bodyguard, Javi.

The serenity I'd been cultivating evaporates in an instant. My heart, which had just begun to slow, now races with a vengeance. Of all the yoga studios in Love Beach, he had to walk into mine.

Mira, bless her, doesn’t miss a beat. “Welcome,” she says serenely. “We’re glad you’ve joined us. Let’s begin with some simple stretches.”

As we move into the first pose—a basic forward fold—I sneak a glance at Preston. To my surprise, he eases into the pose with unexpected grace, his palms flat on the mat beside his feet. I blink in disbelief. Since when does Preston Hollister, the man known more for his golf swing and polo stance, practice yoga?

We transition into Warrior II, and my jaw nearly drops. Preston’s form is impeccable, his arms strong and steady, his gaze focused. This is not the fumbling attempt I expected from a novice. Javi, on the other hand, is struggling, his muscular frame not quite as flexible.

As the class progresses, I find myself continually distracted by Preston’s smooth movements and controlled breathing. During Tree Pose, while Javi wobbles and nearly topples over, Preston stands steady, his eyes closed.

“Now, let’s move into Downward Dog,” Mira instructs. I ease into the pose, feeling the familiar stretch in my hamstrings. Unable to resist, I peek over at Preston again, already knowing what I’m going to see. Sure enough, his form is textbook perfect, heels almost touching the ground, back straight, arms strong.

But despite his surprising yoga prowess, I’m still angry about the rent increase, overriding any grudging admiration I might have felt during class.

I’m rolling up my mat when I feel him come up beside me.

“Crystal?” Preston’s voice is low, cautious. “Could we talk for a moment?”

I spin to face him, crossing my arms. “About what? About how you’re going to price us all out of business?”

He winces, his earlier confidence seeming to deflate a bit. “That’s actually what I wanted to discuss. There’s been a misunderstanding about the rent increase. I’d like to explain, if you’re willing to listen.”

I narrow my eyes, studying him. He looks sincere, but then again, he always does. That’s part of what makes him so dangerous. “Fine,” I say finally. “You have five minutes.”

Relief flashes across his face. “Thank you. But would you mind if we discussed this over coffee? Or tea? I’d rather not have this conversation here.”

I glance around, noticing a few curious onlookers. As much as I’d like to shut Preston down right here, he has a point. I need to remain professional. “Fine. The cafe next door. Give me ten minutes to close up here.”

Relief washes over his face. “Thank you. What would you like me to get you?”

“I usually have the caramel apple tea.”

Ten minutes later, I push open the door to Beans & Dreams, the cozy coffee shop next to HarmonyWorks. Preston is already seated at a corner table, two steaming mugs in front of him.

“Caramel apple tea, just as you requested,” he says as I sit down.

“Thanks,” I mutter, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “So, talk.”

“First, I want to apologize,” he begins. “The rent increase was not my idea, and I had no knowledge of it until you came to my office.”

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “How is that possible? It’s your company.”

“It’s my cousin Teddy’s doing,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “My mother gave her control of the property management division as a favor despite her lack of experience. I... I should have been paying closer attention, but I’ve been so focused on our international expansion that I let things slip here at home.”

The regret in his voice seems genuine, but I’m not ready to let him off the hook just yet. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“As soon as I approve her letter informing you of the mistake, everyone should be receiving it by tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “We’ll also be implementing a new management structure for the local properties, one that prioritizes the community’s needs, not just profits.”

I arch an eyebrow, still skeptical. “And why should I believe you? Why should any of us trust you after this?”

Preston’s blue eyes meet mine, and the intensity in them catches me off guard. “Because I care about this community. I care about the people here, the businesses that make Love Beach what it is.”

I take a sip of my tea, buying time to process his words. “What exactly are you proposing?”

He leans forward, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “I want to launch a comprehensive revitalization project for Seaside Square,” he says. “It’s more than just keeping rents affordable. I want to work with you and the other shop owners to transform the area into a thriving community hub.”

“What does that entail?”

“It’s a multi-faceted approach,” Preston explains. “We’d start by modernizing some of the infrastructure—updating the facades, improving lighting and signage. But it’s not just about cosmetic changes. There’s also the matter of structural renovations.”

I frown. “Structural renovations?”

Preston nods, his expression turning serious. “The building is old, Crystal. We’ve had engineers look at it, and there are some issues that need to be addressed for safety reasons. It’s unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

A knot forms in my stomach. “What does that mean for the shops?”

He takes a deep breath before continuing. “It means that during the renovation process, some shops would need to be temporarily closed down. We’d do it in phases to minimize disruption, but there’s no way around it if we want to ensure the building is up to code and safe for everyone.”

I study him, trying to reconcile this passionate, community-minded man with the aloof businessman I thought I knew. “And what’s in it for you? This sounds like a significant investment.”

Preston’s expression turns thoughtful, and he takes a moment before answering. “Honestly? A chance to make things right. Not just with this rent situation, but with my past. To show that the Hollister name can be associated with community growth, not just corporate profits.”

“You mean your image.” When he doesn’t say anything, I raise an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“Yes, my image,” he says, nodding. “I know how people in this town see me, Crystal. The rich kid who used to bully others, who grew up to be a cold, profit-driven businessman. So unlike my brother who redeemed himself the moment he joined the Navy and became a SEAL.”

I can hear the sincerity in his voice, but I remain cautious. “And this is your way of proving it?”

He nods. “Partly, yes. I want to show that I’m not just all talk. That I can use my position, my resources, to actually make a positive difference in Love Beach. This community gave me and my family so much, and it’s long past time I gave something back.”

His words surprise me. This is a side of Preston I’ve never seen before—vulnerable, reflective, almost... human.

“But it’s more than that,” he continues. “Working on this project is a chance for me to reconnect with the heart of this town. To remember what really matters beyond profit margins and corporate expansions.”

Preston pauses, then adds with a soft smile, “And, if I’m being completely honest, I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better. To show you who I am now, not who I was back in school.”

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks and quickly take a sip of my tea to hide it. The sincerity in his eyes and the warmth in his voice are doing funny things to my insides that I’m not quite ready to acknowledge.

“I need to talk to the other shop owners, see how they feel considering they’re probably still angry about the sudden rent increase notice,” I say.

“I understand and I’d appreciate if you could talk to them.” He reaches across the table, his hand stopping just short of mine as Javi enters the coffee shop. “I should get going. I’ve got a call in ten minutes.”

“Tonight?”

“It’s tomorrow in Asia right now,” he says. “But think about what I said, Crystal. I’m serious.”

As I leave the coffee shop, my mind is whirling. Part of me wants to believe Preston, to trust that he’s changed, that he truly wants to help. But another part, the part that remembers the hurt and anger of the past, urges caution.

Can people really change that much?

And even if Preston has truly changed as he claims, can I risk my heart—and my livelihood—on that belief?