Terms and Conditions (Dreamland Billionaires, #2)

by Lauren Asher

I’m a Black woman. He’s a White male. I smile and he scowls. He wakes up early every morning to work out while I wouldn’t be caught dead at the gym unless it was to grab a smoothie at the café.

“Marriage might be hard, but I’m willing to give it my all.” I can only hope that I don’t look back at this moment and regret all my choices.

Her brand of crazy happens to draw mine out. “You’re a pain in my ass.” “Nope. That’s just the same old stick acting up again.”

“Iris?” An irritable breath escapes me before I have a chance to catch it. “Yes?” Our eyes connect. The nerve endings at the back of my neck tingle. I break contact first, ending the strange feeling before it has a chance to spread. “Thank you for everything.” My eyes snap back to his. Thank you for everything?! I’ve never heard Declan express any gratitude without an ounce of sarcasm. I struggle to find the right words. My silence only adds to the strange tension building between us. Thankfully Declan ends it by entering his office and shutting the door.

“Stop talking.” But I can’t. Not with this precious gem of information at my disposal. “Cal might be opposed to welcoming you into our duo, but I’m sure he would be willing if—” My eyes bulge as he shoves a spoon full of cake into my open mouth. “I finally found the perfect way to shut you up.” I glare at him as I taste the most delicious dessert I’ve ever had. His gaze remains glued to my lips as he drags the clean spoon past them. “All I need to do is keep your mouth permanently occupied.” I graciously proceed to choke.

She looks up at me. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?” “Everything except for you.”

I take a sip of my drink to wash away the bitter taste of weakness from my mouth. “Kiss her again and I’ll enjoy ripping your tongue from your throat.” He holds up his hands. “The only reason I told you about our kiss is so that you can stop thinking I want to make a move on her. I’m not interested in her like that. Trust me.” “Because the kiss was terrible,” I repeat back in a voice erased of any emotion. “Because she was never meant to be mine in the first place.” Damn right she wasn’t. Fake marriage or not, Iris is destined to be with one man and one man only. Me.

Hygge1.

“I can assure you that I will always have Iris’s best interests at heart.” Even if they jeopardize mine.

1 Noun, Danish: A cozy quality that makes a person feel content and comfortable.

“Iris, I offer you this ring as a reminder of my commitment to you, our marriage, and our future. Let it serve as a symbol of my devotion to you, from this day on.” Something about his words makes me pause. He could have promised his everlasting love or something equally nauseating for the crowd, but he didn’t.

Embarrassment makes my eyes sting. I whisper, “That was hands down the worst kiss in my whole life, and that’s saying something given my last ex—” Declan’s lips slam against mine, shutting me up. A buzz that starts from my lips spreads through my body like a brushfire, and I'm lost in the feel of our kiss.

I sigh. “Jose does have a way with words.” His arms tighten around me. “Who the fuck is Jose?” I grin into the lapel of his jacket. “Nobody important.” “Good, then at least no one will miss him when he’s dead.”

I throw my napkin on the table and pat my distended belly. “That’s it. We’re going to South Africa.” Cal groans, and I smile. Problem solved.

Is this how my life is going to be for the next three years? Speaking to someone who is permanently attached to their cell phone? The emptiness in my chest intensifies as the minutes go on. Declan remains oblivious, and I only sink further into my funk. What did you expect? To get married and for him to instantly have a change of heart? The world doesn’t work like that. At the very least, I thought Declan would give me a bit of his time, given the fact that I’m his wife now.

The only visual aid I want is of my hands wrapped around Declan’s neck, stopping his airflow.

She raises her chin with defiance. “I didn’t ask for your permission.” The back of my neck heats. “Then as your boss, I’m ordering you to get started on the updates Yakura wants. Time is of the essence.” Her entire body tenses. “Of course. I’ll get right on that as soon as I submit my two weeks’ notice, asshole.” Oh, fuck. She takes advantage of my stunned state and leaves the suite before I have a chance to stop her. The front door rattles as she slams it behind her. Good luck trying to undo this mess.

He smirks at me. “Perfect timing. Tell your bitch to heel.” I only manage a single step before Iris’s fist flies, slamming straight into my father’s jaw. Iris screams as her fist connects with his face. A chill runs down my spine, and I swallow back the acid crawling up my throat at Iris’s cry. He tests his jaw, rubbing the spot she punched with his palm. “You fucking—” I see red as I lunge for my father, but my attention shifts when Iris lets out a whimper. “Ow.” A single tear slips down Iris’s cheek as she checks out her fist. I don’t think as I jump into action. She hisses at me when I try to assess her hand, all while she swipes the tears off her face with her uninjured hand. Something definitely doesn’t look right with her pinkie, and she winces as I lightly run my finger over it. “That doesn’t feel too good—” Iris curses as she brushes her thumb across her knuckles. “That’s what you get for thinking you could lay a hand on me.” I swear this man has a death wish.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care? You hate when she cries. You wouldn’t mind murdering someone who hurt her. You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fiber of your being.

You care about her. Fuck.

“You sure know how to flatter a man.” “Declan doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.” “Because, most days, he can barely be classified as human, let alone a man.” Oh, he’s all man all right. I’ve seen the evidence in vivid detail. Cal shudders at whatever expression is on my face. “Oh God. Whatever put that look on your face needs to go. Now.”

“I’m enjoying the view.” She glances out the window. “Says the man who hasn’t even looked outside once.” “That’s not the view I’m talking about.”

“I’m not confused. Far from it, actually. I know exactly what I want.” “And what is that?” “You.”

I plan. I act. I conquer. Iris might have rejected my first offer, but I will rise to the challenge and prove just how good things can be between us if she were to give me a chance. Our marriage might be fake, but these feelings burning inside me are anything but. It’s only a matter of time before I make her mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

My breathing is ragged by the time I’m done. I lay my head against the tile and curse to myself, knowing damn well I will never be satisfied until Iris is mine. Not even close.

“Yuánfèn.”

Declan: Yuánfèn. I consider ignoring it, but curiosity wins as I pull up my search bar and type the word in the box with shaky fingers. The results are mind-blowing. Yuánfèn: A predestined infinity.

Me: Kilig1. I throw my phone across my bed and don’t touch it until the next morning. It’s not until I get dressed and put my makeup on that I have enough courage to open Declan’s message. Declan: Merak2.

It’s complete mamihlapinatapai3 between us, with stolen glances across the conference table with no intention of seeking more.

I’m not sure what Declan was thinking by sending me a text of the word backpfeifengesicht4. I choked on my water as I searched the word and found out it means something along the lines of a face that badly needs a fist.

“I want to strike a new deal.” He reaches out and cups the back of my neck. Goose bumps spread across my skin. “I’m not open to negotiating.” He shrugs as he says, “Strikhedonia1.” He robs me of my reply as his lips slam against mine.

I might have made the biggest mistake of my life by marrying Declan. Fuck me.

“Iris.” I give her shoulder a subtle shake. Her hand flies straight to my face. I release a whoosh of air as I duck, somehow missing her palm before it connected with my cheek. “Iris. Wake up.” She groans. “Shh, Declan. Stop talking and do that thing with your tongue again.” My pulse thunders in my veins, matching the quickening of my heart rate. Is she…dreaming of me? I blink, trying to wrap my head around Iris having a dirty dream about me.

“Forelsket1.”

The sight of him unraveling devastates any last hope I have of keeping him at arm’s length. I found my newest addiction, and it happens to be my fake husband.

There he goes again with the L-word. It could explain my insane need to keep Iris close and protect her from harm’s way. The way my chest feels all tight when she is gone. How my heart beats faster whenever she is in the same room as me. My intense need to mind my words so I don’t hurt her. Shit. I am falling in love with Iris.

“Daisuki1.” His deep thrust makes me gasp. “Szeretlek2.” He presses his lips against my forehead. My pulse flutters at the gesture, sending a rush of pleasure all the way to my toes. “Ich liebe dich3.” Our gazes connect. The way I shiver has nothing to do with his touch and everything to do with the way he looks at me.

1 Japanese: I love you. 2 Hungarian: I love you 3 German: I love you.

Like clockwork, I send Iris another message in the morning. I attach a photo of us at the Botanic Garden with a word that describes the exact yearning I feel for her. Me: Sehnsucht1.

His hand gripping onto mine tugs and rotates my stack of rings until they both slip off. An unbearable tightness in my chest intensifies as I check out my ringless finger. “Wait—” Declan pulls out a ring box from his jacket and gets down on one knee. His face remains a blank canvas, completely devoid of any visible emotion as he looks up at me. My heart pounds against my chest as he latches onto my left hand. “What are you doing?” “Proposing to you in the middle of a rainstorm in a Tom Ford suit.” Oh. My. God.

“Ya'aburnee1. As in you bury me. A rough translation for the way I want to leave this world before you because I can’t imagine having to go through a single day without you in it. If this last week was a preview of that kind of life, then I can assure you it isn’t a life worth living. You’re my wife and my best friend. The future mother of my children and the one place that truly feels like home. You’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, not because you signed a contract, but because you love me enough to stay without one. “I want to be the kind of man who is worthy of a woman like you—if it’s even possible. I promise to work every damn day to make sure you don’t regret marrying someone as miserable as me. Because when I’m with you, I’m not miserable at all. You make me happy in a way that makes me afraid to blink just in case it all disappears.” The vulnerability of his words tugs at every single one of my heartstrings. “I’ll give you anything you want—anything at all—so long as you give me a chance to make you as happy as you make me. A dog. A family. A home. I want it all. These are my terms and conditions, take it or leave it because I’m not open to negotiations.” “Only you could make a proposal sound like a business acquisition and get away with it.” “Marry me,” he orders with a smile that could make me agree to just about anything. “I am married to you.” My tears mix with raindrops, and I’m not sure where one begins and the other ends. “Marry me for ...

“I thought about letting you pick a place, but when my real estate agent sent me this listing, I knew it was the one. I drove out the same day to check it out and put an offer on it.” “Why?” I croak. “Because there is nothing I want more than to turn a house into a home with you.”

“Celebrate wha—” His voice trails off as he pulls out a mini succulent from the bag. The black I’m a succa for my little girl stands out against the white pot.

“I know I’m going to have my hands full with you, baby Kane, but you’ll be worth every gray hair on my head. I can guarantee it.”