Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

He grasps on to my elbow while his pained eyes flicker over my face. “You always deserved better than me.”

I rip my arm free of his hold. “No. I deserved better from you.”





Lana stuns me into silence. She doesn’t stick around for a reply that probably won’t come. Whatever relief I gained from finding out neither Lana nor myself are Cami’s parents seems short-lived, easily replaced by the ache in my chest as I watch her walk away from me yet again.

I deserved better from you.

Of course she did. She deserved the whole damn world, but I was—am—too sick to give her anything but heartache.

And whose fault is that?

I’m not sure how long I stand there mulling over the conversation I had with Lana, but I don’t move until my skin prickles from the rising sun. I take a step toward my car and nearly trip over a small person standing in front of me.

“Hi!” Cami smiles up at me and waves.

My heart rate picks up. “Hi?”

“You’re the mister from last night.” The tan skin around her blue eyes crinkles as her grin widens. Her dad must have some strong genes because Cami barely resembles Lana’s sister except for the color of her skin and the shape of her lips.

“Yes?”

“I’m Cami.” She holds out her hand for me to shake.

“Cal.” I’m on autopilot as I clutch her small palm. The size difference between us is comical, but her grip is strong as she shakes my arm like a pool noodle.

“Hi, Cow-l.”

“Cal,” I repeat slower this time, emphasizing the ah sound.

“Cam-eee.” She drags out her name while pointing at her chest, instantly making me feel like an idiot for trying to teach her how to properly say my name.

Who cares how she says it? Just get out of here.

“Well, it’s been great talking to you…” I take a step around her.

“Wait.”

Jesus, take the wheel and drive me off the nearest cliff please.

She runs ahead and stops in front of me, blocking my path toward the car. “You owe me a dollar.”

I blink down at her. “For what?”

“The swear jar.” She holds out her hand. “Dinero, por favor.”

“The swear jar? What the hell is that?”

Her big eyes stretch wide. “Uh-oh. Now you owe me two dollars.”

“I see they’re teaching extortion from a young age.”

“What’s extorshee-on?”

I give my head a good shake. “Forget about it.” I sidestep her and put five feet between us before she is chasing after me.

“Hey! What about my money?”

I shut my eyes and count to five. Sweat begins to slide down my neck from my internal temperature spiking. I have absolutely no experience with children besides encountering and avoiding the occasional kid in public. Until Declan and Iris have one of their own, I’m grossly underprepared to deal with any of this.

Just give her the money and go. I check my wallet for singles but come up empty. “Sorry, kiddo, but I don’t have any dollars.”

“How about that?” She points at the stack of hundred-dollar bills with big eyes.

“Do you even know how much these are worth?”

Her blank stare doesn’t give me much to go off.

“Fine. Whatever. Here you go.” I give her one of the bills.

“But you said two bad words.”

“These are worth more than a dollar.” I tap the numbers to emphasize. “That’s a hundred. See?”

Are you really trying to reason with a kid?

Her brows scrunch together as she stares at the bill. “Hold on. Let me count to make sure… One…two…three…” She traces each number in the air like she is writing on an invisible sheet of paper.

For fuck’s sake. At the rate of her counting, I’ll spend the whole morning here.

I grab another hundred and pass it to her. “There.”

She pokes her tongue through the gap where one of her front teeth should be. “Oooh.”

“Bye.” I give her a half-assed salute and resume my walk toward my car.

“Will you play with me?” She follows behind me like a shadow.

“I can’t.”

Almost there. The blurry numbers on my license plate get clearer with each step closer to my car.

She runs to keep up with my long strides. “Why not?”

“I’ve got somewhere to be.” You’re so close. I dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door.

Maybe if you throw another hundred on the ground, it will distract her long enough for you to get away.

“Where are you going?”

Anywhere but here is preferable at the moment. “A meeting.”

“Oh.” Her smile falls. “Will you be back?”

“Uhm…maybe?” My skin itches.

“Yay! Next time you will play with me.” Her hands clap.

The kid needs meds or a muzzle. That much is obvious. She reminds me a lot of myself at that age, bouncing with energy and endless rambling. It’s a mystery how my brothers didn’t try to suffocate me in my sleep.

“Sorry, kid. I’m not here to play with you.”

“Oh. But Wyatt plays with me.”

Gravel kicks up underneath my shoes from my sudden stop. “Who?”