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

“Our marriage contract.”

“Why is it pink?”

One would think I asked for her to sacrifice her precious shoe collection based on her facial expression.

“Someone else left it loaded in the copy machine and I didn’t know how to change it.”

A laugh bubbles out of her. “I don’t know what you would do without me.”

“Your inflated sense of self-worth is concerning.”

“You don’t have to pretend to dislike me so much.”

“Your first mistake is thinking I’m pretending.”

She only grins at the barb. “They say there’s a thin line between love and hate.”

“Not thin enough,” I grumble under my breath.

She laughs some more as she grabs the pink contract.

“Initial at the bottom of each page once you’re done reading it.” I pass her a pen.

“This contract is about as thick as the Bible.” She stares at the stack of pages with a contorted expression.

I remain silent as I lean against my desk and cross my arms. “Is that a problem?”

Her brows draw together for the briefest moment before she recovers. “No, but I’ll need to spend my lunch break reading over it.”

“Take whatever time you need but that contract isn’t leaving this office.” There is no way I would risk someone catching a glimpse of our arrangement.

She traces the front page with one finger. “Fine. But I plan on reviewing each page three times just to make sure you’re not up to anything suspicious, so don’t get annoyed because I’m eating into your precious alone time.” Her response flows past her lips without a breath of hesitation.

And she accuses you of lying.

“Spare me the play-by-play and get on with it. I have other things to do.” I take a seat in my chair, and it groans under my weight.

“If you pack on any more muscle, that thing is going to split in half one day.”

My muscles flex under my suit as I unbutton the front of my jacket. “I’m sure you’d like that.”

“Only if I catch it on camera.”

I ignore her and unlock my computer. It only takes a few email replies before Iris lets out a noise of protest.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Her voice cracks.

“What?”

Her eyes widen to a concerning degree. “You plan on giving me full custody of our child?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes! A big problem!”

“I suppose now is the time I mention that the contract is non-negotiable.”

Her chin lifts in defiance. “Then make it negotiable.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll walk.”

I don’t look away from the computer screen as I reply, “I’d like to see you try.”

She rises, throws the contract on my desk, and grabs her purse off the floor. “If you can’t be a responsible father, then I am no longer interested in helping you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Want to test that theory?”

Fuck. The rules of the game continue to shift without my consent, all because Iris doesn’t play fair.

She never has.

“You’re going to walk away from a hundred million dollars because of a custody agreement?”

“Money isn’t the problem. Your decision is.” She turns on her heel and gives me her back.

My control slips with each step she takes away from me. “I’ll give you two hundred million.”

She keeps walking toward the door, completely ignoring me. The sway of her hips is a silent taunt to grab her. To do something other than let her walk away from me and our agreement.

“Three hundred million.” Her step falters but she doesn’t stop until her hand grips the knob. I press the round button underneath my desk, and the door’s locking mechanism clicks into place.

She grunts under her breath. “Open the damn door.”

“Not until you sit your ass down and sign the contract.”

“No.” She jangles the knob, but it’s a wasted effort. While the safe-style locks are meant to keep intrusive people out, they’re proving themselves quite convenient at keeping my assistant in.

I sit and wait for her to tire out. While Iris might have a strong will, mine is ironclad. And with so much on the line, her giving up is not an option, no matter how much she might hate me for it.

She rests her forehead against the door. “What about what I want?”

“You forfeited your rights the moment you became my fiancée.”

“Careful, Declan. Your misogyny is showing.”

The corner of my lip lifts. “You have no leverage here.”

“Consider this my bargaining chip.” She flips me off with her ring finger.

“Cute,” I reply dryly.

“Either you listen to my conditions, or I’ll call the first reporter on my list and announce our split.”

My eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me?”

“Me? Never.” She bats her lashes. “I prefer the term motivating.”

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.”

To think I pay her more than any assistant in this building for this kind of treatment.