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

“Great! Thanks, Doc!” She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her.

“I’d like a second opinion.” The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer’s fracture isn’t the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren’t right in my head where Iris is concerned. At least not anymore.

Both of the doctor’s eyebrows arch. “For a small fracture?”

“Don’t mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing.” She shoots me a look as if I’m the crazy one out of the two of us.

“Okay…” the doctor says.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?

You hate when she cries.

You wouldn’t mind murdering someone who hurt her.

You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fiber of your being.

The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I’m the only one to blame.

Iris interrupts my thoughts. “I’ll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury.”

“Perfect. And don’t forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician.” The doctor gives me one last look before handing Iris the discharge paperwork. “Nice meeting you, Mrs. Kane.”

“Will you help me with this?” She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.

I huff as I grab it from her and fill it out.

She checks the time on her phone. “Well, at least that didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I’m sure you’re dying to get back to work.”

That’s the scary thing. I didn’t think about my job once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I’ve spent the past fourteen years of my life thinking solely about work, and all it took was one woman to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.

As if that doesn’t scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else. It’s the same reason I feel an urge to push Cal away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.

You care about her.

Fuck.





The first stop after dropping Iris off at the office is my father’s townhouse. His assistant let me know he took the rest of the day off due to an “unforeseen illness,” so it’s not hard to pin him down.

I almost expect him to ignore me waiting at his front door, but I should have guessed that he is too prideful to look weak in front of me.

He opens the door, and I blink at the damage of his face. His nose is a mess of cartilage and bruising, and it feels like I’m looking in a mirror. I don’t need to reach out to touch the slight bump on my nose to remember it’s there. A bump he caused after a heavy punch and too much alcohol. My stomach rolls from the realization that I’m no better than him, lashing out with fists when provoked.

You won’t make the same mistake again. You can learn to be better.

Despite my reassuring words, I find it hard to battle the chilling realization.

“I doubt you came here to stare at your handiwork, so get on with it or get off my damn porch.”

“I came by to drop something off.” I slap a thick file against his chest.

I have one for every person in my life. Secrets are as good as any currency, and I happen to be filthy fucking rich, all thanks to the private investigator I have on retainer.

He opens the file before shutting it not a minute later. “I see.”

“Take your time and have a good look. I’m particularly fond of the reports from previous teachers going into detail about your abuse, although the hidden hospital visits for broken bones are particularly compelling. There’s a USB attached to the back that includes some videos of our more public altercations as well, just in case you want some visual context of what’s coming if you mess with Iris ever again.”

“Why are you showing me this? Why not go out and share it with everyone so you can take over my position?”

I release a bitter laugh. “Because I don’t need to resort to your level to steal your position, but I’m willing to do so if you ever pull a stunt like today ever again.”

“You would ruin our family’s reputation for her?”

“We aren’t family. You made sure of that the moment you told my wife to get her tubes tied, you fucking monster.” My hands clench by my side, but I hold back from throwing another punch. I’d rather use words as a weapon than my fists.

“I’m trying to save you the mistake of having a child with someone purely for an inheritance. You should be thanking me.”

Deep breaths, Declan. Deep fucking breaths.

“If I catch you talking to Iris again, whether about business or not, I’ll release this to the public. No questions asked. No second chances. I don’t care if you need to use a damn smoke signal to get in contact with me, so long as you leave my wife out of it.”

“You’d publish this even if it makes you look weak?”

“That’s the thing, Father. I spent plenty of years thinking I was pathetic because I couldn’t fight you back, but I eventually realized the only weak man here is the one staring right at me. In one way, I guess I’m glad Mom is dead because at least she doesn’t have to face the disgusting excuse of a human you’ve become.” I turn, feeling his burning gaze following me all the way back to my car.