Terms and Conditions (Dreamland Billionaires #2) by Lauren Asher

“You told her about earlier?”

“I tell her everything.”

I take a sip of my water. “Interesting.” Safe to say Zahra probably thinks I’m the biggest asshole around.

He grabs a glass and fills it to the top with water. “How did the walkthrough go?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Because I care.”

“Even after I lashed out at you?”

He sighs. “Love isn’t conditional. I know Father made us believe that, but just because I get angry at you and vice versa doesn’t mean I don’t love you or care about you. Even if you do act like an idiot most of the time.”

“Who knew Dreamland would turn you into such a sappy fuck?”

“Dreamland and the people in it.” He smiles in a genuine way that reaches his eyes, and I can’t remember the last time I have ever seen him look this happy. Maybe never.

No one can control falling in love, and he happened to find it in the last place I expected. It’s time I accepted it and moved on for both our sakes. I’ve been punishing him for seeking out what makes him feel fulfilled, all because I felt like he betrayed me. I held on to the idea of him abandoning me like everyone else to manage my father and all the expectations that come with the company. Rather than support him, I held his happiness against him just like my father did countlessly throughout our lives.

You’re no better than him.

It is a sour feeling to realize the man I have spent my whole life resenting is the one I am slowly becoming.

It’s not too late to start making better decisions.

My mouth feels dry no matter how much water I drink. “I’ve made some mistakes.”

Rowan blinks but stays quiet.

“I’ve said things I’m not proud of. Made threats, talked down to you, pushed you away because you made a decision I didn’t like. As your big brother, I’m supposed to set the example. Be the bigger person. Make the best choices. Stay strong no matter how much I’m being beaten down. Except all I’ve done is show you what not to do. Instead of letting you become your own person, I was trying to shove you back into a mold you didn’t fit into anymore. It was selfish of me, and I’m sorry.”

“Wow.” He blinks.

There isn’t much else I need to say. From now on, I plan on being better. The end.

I stand. “I better get going.”

Rowan grabs a set of keys from a bowl on the counter. “Let me drive you to the airport.”

“Airport?”

He chuckles. “Iris took the jet back to Chicago earlier.”

“She what?”

“Looks like you’re flying commercial tonight. You better buy a ticket before you lose the chance.”

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Iris is in Chicago right now.

Why would she stay? You never gave her a good reason to after the way you spoke to her.

I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I fucked up.”

“It’s nothing some good groveling can’t fix.”

“Groveling?”

“Get in the car and I’ll explain.” His grin is worrisome.

Well, shit. This is going to be an interesting car ride.





Does groveling include mentioning to Iris how I rode a commercial flight for the first time in a decade solely so I could get to her sooner? Because if so, then the middle economy seat I was subjected to buying at the last minute was worth every excruciating minute, seeing as I was stuck between a toddler who wouldn’t stop talking and a mother holding a crying infant.

My ears are still ringing by the time I make it back to our house. Harrison opens my door, and I get out. I don’t think to ask him about Iris until I walk into a silent, dark house.

“Iris?” I call out as I walk through the halls filled with her plants.

No one answers back. I search the whole house twice before I come to the conclusion that she isn’t here.

“Fuck.” I pull out my phone and call Iris. Not surprisingly, she doesn’t respond.

I dial Cal’s phone number next, but he doesn’t pick up.

Me: Is Iris with you?





He doesn’t answer right away, and I’m not interested in sitting around. I might as well drive to his place while I wait.

Less than thirty minutes later, I park outside his apartment and decide to call him again. He finally answers, but his voice is gruffer than usual.

“What do you want?”

I see Iris got to him first.

“Where’s Iris?”

A door shuts in the background. “She’s sleeping.”

“At your place?” My teeth grind together.

“I don’t think it matters much to her so long as it isn’t yours.”

“Put her on the phone.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

“I want to hear her tell me that herself.”

“Man, just listen to me. Go home and take the night to cool off. Both of you are too emotional to deal with one another right now.”

“Fuck this.” I hang up the phone. I’m not about to let Cal tell me how to handle my wife. They might be friends, but I’m her husband. She belongs in our house no matter how upset she might feel right now. Couples talk issues out. They don’t need third-party mediators to handle their shit for them.