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

I clear my throat. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Showing you our new home.”

“Our new what?” I gape at the house. I use the term loosely, seeing as the place looks like it has been abandoned for years.

“Let me show you something.” He clutches onto my hand as we circle around the back of the house.

“No. Freaking. Way.” I blink.

He smiles. “Do you like it?”

I take a step toward a stunning greenhouse. Unlike the house behind us, the greenhouse looks like someone recently came to take care of it. The spotless glass shines, giving me a good idea of the empty space inside.

I would need to buy hundreds of plants to fill it. Maybe even a thousand.

Declan pulls me against his chest so he can lay his chin on my shoulder. “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.”

Declan needs to come with a warning sign because I’m susceptible to swooning whenever he is around.

“It’s beautiful.”

His arms tighten around me. “Want to check it out?”

“Can we?”

He grins as he steps away from me and opens the door. I spend the next five minutes exploring the place, cataloging just how much space I would have.

“I think I’m in heaven.” I trail a finger across an empty table waiting to be covered with pots.

“So I take it that you like it?” His confident voice doesn’t match the hesitant look in his eyes.

He’s nervous.

Anxious Declan is my favorite Declan because it’s the version of him no one else knows about. He tries so hard to hide it from everyone else, but around me, he doesn’t mind dropping his guard. It makes my chest all warm and tingly to know he trusts me enough to share that part of himself. Because to someone like him who grew up thinking emotions were weaknesses, it probably means so much more than I could ever imagine.

I walk over to him and wrap my hands around his neck. “I love it so much.”

“Good. Because if my proposal didn’t work, this was my next best option to convince you to marry me.”

I smack his wet chest. “You can’t buy people’s love like that.”

His eyes twinkle. “I don’t want other people’s love. I want yours.”

“You already have it.”

He blinks.

I stand on the tips of my toes so my lips hover over his. “Daisuki.” I press my mouth against his, and he releases a shuddery breath. “Szeretlek.” He groans as I deepen the kiss, only to pull away breathless not a minute later. “Ich liebe dich.” I repeat the same three words he whispered to me back when he made love to me.

His eyes shut as if he is experiencing a sensory overload.

“I love you,” I finish in English, just to get my message across because I most likely ruined the pronunciation of all the words.

“Say it again.” His darkening eyes linger on my mouth.

“I. Love. You.”

He kisses the top of my forehead. The pain etched into his face guts me, knowing he spent thirty-six years of his life believing he was unlovable—all because of his shitty, abusive father.

I cup his cheek. “I will always love you. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.”

“You say that now…” His voice drifts off as his eyes dart away.

My chest clenches. “And I’ll say it every day until you finally believe it.”

“It could take forever.”

I trace his wedding band with the tip of my finger. “It’s a good thing all we have is time.”





1 Arabic: “You bury me.”





EPILOGUE





IRIS





One Year Later


“Is he busy?” I stop in front of Declan’s assistant’s desk.

“Go on in.” He shakes his head with a smile before returning his attention to his computer screen.

I walk up to Declan’s office door and knock a fist against the wood like I’ve done hundreds of times before. His deep rumble of a voice makes it past the door, and I open it before he has a chance to protest.

“I told you I don’t want to be disturb—” His voice drops off as our eyes connect. The frown on his face quickly morphs into his signature small smile that makes me weak in the knees.

My legs wobble, and I nearly roll my ankle before righting myself.

He stands and helps me into my chair before I do something unfortunate like land face-first against the carpet. The way he acts ever since I announced I was pregnant makes me feel like he won’t rest until I’m permanently protected in bubble wrap.

“I told you to stop wearing those death traps weeks ago.” Ever since Declan read one horror story about a pregnant woman and heels, he hasn’t let the subject go. I’m afraid I will come home one day to an empty closet and a fireplace burning with all my prized possessions.

“I want to enjoy my shoes while I can still see them.” I pat my small baby bump.

“They’re dangerous.”