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

Welcome to the Kane Company where employee wages are as dismal as company morale.

But still, my whole chest aches for him because obviously I have a thing for misunderstood billionaires. “It was stupid of me to say. I’m sorry.”

“You know how I feel about apologies.”

“Unless they’re blood sacrifices made in your honor, don’t bother.”

The corners of his lips lift. Got him. My smile widens, which only makes his disappear before it had a chance to form into something devastating.

“What made you want to become a sponsor?” My question is innocent. An olive branch of sorts. It might be a selfish question, but I don’t want to stop the conversation. This is a side of Declan I know nothing about, and I won’t forgive myself if he closes back up again because of my stupid assumption.

His gaze slowly makes its way back to me. “I thought Santiago’s comeback story was admirable.”

I smile, grateful he offered more information. “See! Even you can’t resist him! Face it. That man can wrap anyone around his finger, including you.”

The corners of his lips rise. “He might have been the reason I donated in the first place, but I continued because of the kids.”

“Kids?”

He pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. “Here.”

I grab onto his phone like a national treasure. The first photo makes my jaw drop. It’s one of a red-headed child flipping off the person taking the photo with one metal finger. “Cute.”

“That’s Freddy.”

He knows them by name. My heart threatens to burst inside of my chest.

“May I?” I want to keep swiping through his photos and learn more about the man who hides himself away from the world.

I want to know everything.

He nods. I swipe through a set of photos featuring three other kids. Each of them have different prosthetics, with one child requiring four.

I recognize the location of one photo instantly.

“You all went to Dreamland?”

“They did.”

Huh. “Where were you?”

“Working.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“Does it matter?”

Yes! I want to yell, but my throat dries up and I lose all capacity to speak. The tightness in my chest intensifies, having everything to do with how he sent the kids to Dreamland together without him despite him wanting to be there.

I don’t know why it makes me sad but it does. Maybe it’s because Declan has his eyes set on a position he thinks will be the answer to everything, all while missing out on what life has to offer. And frankly, that’s no way to live.

For someone hell-bent on succeeding at everything, he truly fails at life. I want to help him realize that there is so much more to everything than merely existing. That if he spends any more years skipping out on what is truly important, he might regret it later. No. He will regret it. I can guarantee it because there will always be some new goal he thinks will fill that gaping hole in his chest. All of them will fall short. It’s a vicious cycle driven by one sad fact: he is looking for happiness in all the wrong places.

I spot all the signs I’ve become personally familiar with.

Then what are you going to do about it?





20





IRIS





Heavy rain splatters against the deck, obscuring our view of the bush. Dark gray clouds block out any sunlight. My faith about going out on today’s safari dwindles with each drop of water splashing against the ground.

“Do you think they’ll still take us out today?” I ask, unable to stop the hope from seeping into my question.

A lightning bolt cuts through the clouds before a rumble of thunder shakes the glass.

He shakes his head. “We’re not going out in a storm like that, regardless of what they say.”

“But—”

“No.”

I huff. “It’s a summer shower. It’ll be gone before you know it.”

Lightning strikes again, filling the sky with a bright light. He shoots me a look that requires no translation.

“Fine. You’re right.” My bottom lip juts out as I pout.

“You’re giving up already? At least make me work for it.” His eyes rival the blinding light outside. The way he stares at me, with quiet challenge, has me wanting to push back.

“Part of me thinks you like picking fights with me because it’s the only way you know how to keep me around.”

A noise gets trapped in his throat. “Why would I want that?”

“Because I think you like talking to me.”

“Is anyone else aware of what a narcissist you are?”

“I’m surprised you noticed with how obsessed you are with yourself.”

He spoils me with a small smile that gives me the same rush of pride as climbing the tallest mountain. I grin back at him, and his eyes drop to my lips. The warmth in my chest reroutes itself toward a different area of my body.

“Admit it. You like hanging around me.”

Now you’re flirting with him?

His smile only expands. “I don’t exactly hate it.”

“Coming from you, that’s practically a declaration of love.”

He blinks, and I’m hit with the temptation to slap myself.