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

Declan remains silent.

“Is there anything in particular that you want me to pack for you?” I ask.

“No.” He frowns as he types against the screen.

Is this how my life is going to be for the next three years? Speaking to someone who is permanently attached to their cellphone?

The emptiness in my chest intensifies as the minutes go on. Declan remains oblivious, and I only sink further into my funk.

What did you expect? To get married and for him to instantly have a change of heart? The world doesn’t work like that.

At the very least, I thought Declan would give me a bit of his time, given the fact that I’m his wife now.

Don’t go wishing for things that will never happen.

I sigh again. This time, Declan doesn’t bother commenting on it. How can he when he is too busy answering the phone and yelling at someone on the other end?

Story of my life.





My phone buzzes in my hand. I unlock it to find Cal’s latest text message.

Cal: Did you ever get around to thanking my father for your impromptu honeymoon yet?

Me: I’ll be sure to send him a thank you basket when I get back.

Cal: Should I tell him to look out for a faint ticking noise?

Me: Don’t ruin the surprise! That’s the best part.

Cal responds with a row of laughing emojis.

Declan drops into the captain’s chair across from me. The flight attendant is quick to ask him if he needs anything, but he simply ignores her by tapping on his tablet screen.

“Sir, I’m here to service you in any way you need. Please don’t hesitate to ask for anything during the long flight.” She bats her lashes at Declan.

Service him? Gross.

Declan remains oblivious to her obvious innuendo. He doesn’t bother to look up at her despite the way she stands beside his chair, drooling all over the carpet.

I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t even bother turning in my direction. “The captain said the trip should be a smooth one. I’m curious what made you pick South Africa?”

“I’ve always wanted to go on a safari.” As of three days ago, at least.

She dares to shoot me a scathing look over her shoulder. Is she really going to ignore me while flirting with him? He’s wearing a wedding ring for crying out loud.

“My husband and I will take two glasses of champagne, please.” I lift my left hand in the air to get her attention, and the diamond reflects a rainbow of colors across the ceiling.

She peers over at me with a raised brow. “Excuse me?”

Excuse you. I grind my teeth together. “Actually, you might as well bring out the whole bottle. We’re in a celebrating mood.”

“You’re married?” Her eyes swing back and forth between us before landing on Declan’s ring. The way her smile falls elicits my own.

“Get my wife whatever she wants.” Declan doesn’t look up from his tablet.

My stomach flutters in a way that has nothing to do with flying jitters.

“Of course. Right away, sir!” She rushes to the back of the private jet.

“Right away, sir!” I echo her enthusiasm with a roll of my eyes.

The corners of Declan’s mouth lift as he feigns interest in whatever is on his screen.

I glare. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I do find your possessiveness entertaining.”

“I am not possessive.”

“Hmm,” he responds. His fingers go tap tap tap on the screen.

I shift in my seat, and the tips of my braids brush against the small of my back. “Okay, whatever. Even if I was, it’s warranted. She shouldn’t have flirted with you while you’re wearing a wedding ring.”

“I see.” He drags his index finger across the glass before tapping on the tablet screen.

“What aren’t you saying?”

“I’m curious why you feel the need to flaunt your marital status whenever you’re insecure.”

My mouth drops open. “I am not insecure!”

“I’m aware of your trust issues.”

Is he for real right now? He’s one to talk about trust issues when the man has a seventeen-digit code to unlock his cellphone.

“Is this the part of our relationship where we share our deep-seated daddy issues?” I coo in a joking manner despite the thundering pace of my heart. “Because I’m pretty sure we could spend the whole flight debating who had it worse growing up.”

He shrugs. “Defensive as always.”

This motherfuc—

Relax. He’s good at stirring up people’s insecurities and using them to his advantage. Instead of giving in to his taunts, I pull out my phone and busy myself with my email inbox. Sorting messages is a soothing task that keeps my mind numb.

Despite my best efforts, my thoughts drift.

Trust issues? Who is he to call me out on such a thing? Everything about him screams trust issues, from the thirty-page prenup I signed to the way he won’t open up despite my knowing him for years.

He readjusts his position in the chair. “You can trust me to remain faithful.”

“As if that was a concern,” I bite back.

His brow raises in silent question.

“Everyone knows about your sleeping habits.”

“And what are they?” His eyes lighten with amusement.