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

Iris looks up from her tablet. “What for?”

“I’m in the mood to make people miserable.”

“Can it still be considered a mood if it’s a constant state of being?”

I glare.

She holds her hands up in submission. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m about to slap half of Chicago with a libel lawsuit.”

Her lips form a small O as she nods her head. “Ahh. So I take it that you saw the articles?”

I blink. “You know about them?”

She moves her head up and down again as her eyes shift away from mine.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Her heavy sigh battles to be heard over the engines starting up. “My mom called me while I was packing this morning and told me about them. I was hoping we would make it through the flight before you read them, but I see it was a lost cause.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the moment you saw them?” And please tell me you didn’t read the comments.

“Because I didn't find it worth ruining our last day together with something like this.”

“Who the fuck cares about that?”

She offers me a tight smile. “If you’re worried about what the lawyer might think, I already have a plan. I refuse to let your father beat us.”

Us. Not you. The idea of us working as a team against my father pleases me, but not enough to erase the anger I feel about her putting my inheritance first. “Fuck the plan and fuck my father. That’s not what’s important here.”

She bats her lashes. “My, my, Declan. Are you offended for me?”

“They called you a money-hungry whore.” My molars smash together.

“At least they chose a good photo of me for that one. The reporters over at the Chicago Chronicle weren’t as kind when it came to my secret pregnancy announcement.”

“What?” I can barely see past the black dots filling my vision as I pull out my phone again.

Iris places her hand over mine. “Don’t worry about it.”

I should be reassuring her. No one deserves to be talked about that way. While some comments are to be expected, like her only marrying me for a paycheck or my last name, the rest are despicable. They pick apart her looks. Her intelligence. Her heart. Each one makes me want to find the internet trolls who said something negative about her and strangle them with their computer cords. If I thought I hated the media before, nothing compares to the burning desire to erase the first amendment from American history.

She gives my hand a squeeze, pulling me back from my murderous thoughts. “They’re only words.”

Inside, I’m seething. On the outside, I’m just as cold and calculated as the articles describe me to be. “I expected a different reaction from you.”

What did you really think she would do? Yell? Scream? Cry?

Anything would be better than the current alternative of her trying to reassure me. I don’t deserve it.

“I knew all of this would happen eventually.” She shrugs as if none of this bothers her, but it’s nothing but a lie. Her chin trembles and I find myself fisting my hands on my lap to prevent me from reaching out to comfort her.

Me comforting her? I wouldn’t even know where to start with something so ridiculous. “I’ll handle this.”

She raises a brow. “What are you going to do? Defend my honor?”

“At the very least.”

Her laugh eases some of the tension in my muscles. “Please don’t do something stupid because you’re angry.”

“I won’t.”

She lifts a brow. “Or anything that could be deemed a felony.”

“Is it still considered a crime if I don’t get caught?”

Her eyes brighten, chipping away at the icy block of my heart. “Paying your way out of prison isn’t something to show off about.”

“What good is having all this money if I have to follow the law?”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Then don’t.”

Her nose scrunches. “Moving on. We need to be strategic about all of this. I’m sure your grandfather’s lawyer is starting to become suspicious about the legitimacy of everything.”

Whatever good mood she brought about a moment ago is wiped away by her comment. How can she think about the lawyer during a time like this? For fuck’s sake, there were people making death threats toward her.

“I don’t care about the lawyer.” At least not right now.

She looks at me like I grew a second head. “Right. Well, regardless of your current opinion on the matter, I have the perfect plan.”

Seeing as her last plan ended up with us being married, I can only imagine how this one will go.





I consider going over to my father’s house. The temptation to break his jaw rides me hard, but I hold back. Punching him would only make me feel better for a moment while destroying everything he loves will have a much more satisfying alternative.

Growing up being raised by someone like him meant developing the same traits because to survive someone like him, I needed to evolve. I learned through painful trial and error to hold my cards close to my chest because to love something meant to risk losing it. I’ve loved and I’ve lost, and I despise both feelings equally.