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

She laughs again, and I’m hit with another surge of warmth that scares me enough to open the car door and face the lesser of two evils. Anything seems better than analyzing the weird sense of attraction I feel toward the one woman I can’t ever have.

Future wife or not, Iris is the last person I will ever make a move on. She is an integral part of my plan to become CEO, and I refuse to lose my most valuable player for something as fleeting as attraction. Nothing good could ever come out of a temporary fling, so I’m better off being on my own.





Iris and I make our way through rounds of useless conversation. Unlike our engagement party, we are driven apart by our families. There is a reason I always dragged Iris to any event I was forced to attend. Where she thrives in answering people’s questions and pretending to be interested, I struggle. Everything about tonight is pure torture. With the endless amount of small talk and my inability to get drunk at my own rehearsal dinner, I can’t get out of here soon enough.

To make matters worse, my father showed up to play his part as a doting parent. His fake smile is on full display as he works the crowds with the charm of a cult leader. It’s disgusting how many people eat out of the palm of his hand, nearly salivating at the prospect of receiving five minutes of his attention.

I find the darkest corner in the restaurant and linger in the shadows, observing my father from afar. I’m not sure how much time passes. The dull throb at the back of my head seems to have alleviated during my reprieve, and for that I am grateful.

I take a step out into the light before I’m stopped by Iris pressing her palm against my cheek. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I knew I should have checked the dark and unseemly places first.” Her hand lingers, warming my stubbled chin as I look down at her.

“To think you know me better than anyone else.”

She laughs, and the sound seems to wash away my last bit of annoyance from tonight.

“How are you holding up?” She removes her hand, but I latch onto it and press it against my chest.

A crease appears between her eyebrows.

“People are watching,” I speak low.

She looks around, finding multiple people’s gazes homed in on us.

Her lips curve into a small smile. “No wonder you hate going out. This is exhausting.”

“Now she finally gets it,” I deadpan.

She cracks another smile in my direction. “I never understood why you hated talking to people but now I totally do. Who would want to with a family like yours?”

“If hell were a theme park, they would have lifetime passes.” My comment earns me a wheezy laugh.

“How did you survive growing up with so many social climbers?”

“Easy. If you stop being social, there is no ladder for them to climb in the first place.”

Her eyes light up. “Well, I better get back to being the cheery one. With you hiding, one of us needs to be present.”

I clasp onto her hand before she has a chance to step away. “Don’t go.”

What are you doing?

“Why not?” Her brow arches.

A reasonable question if any. Having her by my side feels like the only natural thing about tonight, fake marriage or not. She has a way of making anything tolerable.

“You make tonight somewhat more bearable.”

What happened to not needing anyone but yourself?

I’ll go back to feeling that way tomorrow. Tonight I accept I am weaker than usual, with hours of small talk pushing me past my limits.

She looks down at our joined hands with a tight expression. “What a glowing compliment.”

My thumb brushes the inside of her wrist. “Do you want to hear some more?”

“No.”

A small smile forms before I have a chance to kill it. “Why not?”

“I prefer you grumpy and predictable.”

“You can’t mean that.”

Are you flirting with her?

Fuck. Exactly how much alcohol did I drink tonight? I check my one and only glass, finding it still halfway full.

Must be a temporary lapse in judgment given the stress of the situation.

Yes. A slip of the tongue that has nothing to do with Iris and everything to do with my limited patience for people trying to kiss my ass all night long.

“You know why.”

“Maybe but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you say it.” She grins, and a wave of warmth spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with my whiskey.

You hate when people smile.

Except making Iris grin feels like a personal victory.

You’re not supposed to be lusting after your paid-per-vow wife’s smiles.

I snap out of whatever feelings possessed me. “You’re staying with me for the rest of the night.” I leave no room for questions.

She seems to ramp up the wattage on her smile. “You’re kind of cute when you get all flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

She wraps both of her arms around my waist, drawing me toward her. Our bodies fit together like two interlocking puzzle pieces. Returning her embrace is reflexive, while the feeling happening inside of me is not. There is only one word I can think to describe the contentedness wrapping itself around my heart like a suffocating vine.

Hygge1.

“What did you just say?” Iris looks up at me with a contorted expression.