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

I glare. “I didn’t go through all this trouble for you to blow it by doing something stupid.”

He releases a heavy sigh. “How can you be sure they’re here tonight?”

“I’d tell you, but then that would make you an accessory to the crime.”

He shakes his head and looks out the window, but I make out a faint smile in the reflection. “You expect me to sit next to someone who called you a brainless babymaker and do nothing about it?”

“Aw. You actually sounded insulted for a second.”

He mutters something under his breath.

“Listen up. The plan is simple. We go to dinner, have a drink, and pretend we’re in love.”

“Because we’re fake dating,” he replies back with a robotic voice.

Finally. “Right! Now you’re getting it.”

“Dating you would be…”

I cut him off, growing more nervous with each judgmental stare he sends my way. “Painful. I don’t need you to tell me twice.”

His lips press together as he stays silent, scanning my face like an MRI of my soul. “Yes. Painful is exactly how I would describe this situation.” His voice is devoid of all emotion, and a chill spreads across my skin.

I swallow back the uncertainty and steel my spine. “Great. Now that we’re on the same page about all that, are you good to go? They’ll give away our table if we don’t show up in the next five minutes.”

“I’m only agreeing to this scheme because you broke a few laws to make it happen.”

“If I ever get caught, it’s a good thing I have you to bail me out of jail.”

“Who says I wouldn’t be in there with you?”

My grin might make my cheeks hurt, but his small smile causes my whole chest to ache.

Well, that shouldn’t be happening.

Avoiding your feelings doesn’t make them any less real.

Oh, shut up.





Plan a fake date, they said. It’ll be easy.

Said no one ever.

The hostess, who is now five hundred dollars richer thanks to me, guides us to the table located right beside the reporter. That’s all I can think of as Declan’s mask of indifference slides in place and his palm finds the small of my back. The warmth emanating off him bleeds into my skin, and I’m tempted to shimmy closer to him.

“Anything else I can get for you, Mr. and Mrs. Kane?”

The red-headed reporter looks up from her menu. A flicker of surprise passes over her features as her eyes scan Declan from head to toe.

I shake my head as Declan replies for us, “No, thank you.”

Declan’s hand breaks contact with my back as he pulls out my chair. I take a seat, and he pushes me closer to the table. Unlike other times, he doesn’t step away, but rather he leans forward.

His lips brush against the shell of my ear as he whispers, “You better be right about this.”

I shiver. “Have a little faith in me.”

“I’m a bit hesitant given your track record.” He chuckles, sending those butterflies in my stomach on fire.

“I take offense.”

“Forgive me.” His teeth graze the tip of my ear, sending another current of energy through me.

Is this part of the show? I’m extremely confused until I catch Declan’s eyes connecting with the reporter’s.

I release a pent-up breath as Declan pulls away and drops into his seat across from me. The weight of his stare presses against my chest like an anvil, making each inhale progressively more difficult.

I look past him only to lock eyes on the reporter. She types away on her phone, completely ignoring her date.

Something tells me she is taking notes.

Time to put on the show of your life. “I wish we were still on our honeymoon.”

Go along with it, I say with my eyes.

“I do too,” he says it without an ounce of sarcasm.

Huh. Does he actually mean that or is he lying to appease our audience? The first thought makes me push for more. “Why?”

“Because it turns out vacations aren’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Told you!”

His lips curve at the corners, but he remains quiet.

“What changed your mind?”

He leans in. “Not having to think about anything but which way I wanted to fuck you next.”

My sharp inhale isn’t staged. Neither is the way my heart beats like a war drum against my chest. My eyes flick between his burning gaze and the reporter’s flushed face.

“What are you doing?” I lean in and whisper with a forced smile. Although my gaze is locked on Declan’s, I can feel the reporter’s eyes tracking my every move.

He reaches out and tucks a braid behind my ear. “Selling a story,” he whispers.

“Then settle down, Romeo. This is a romance, not a porno.”

The way his eyes brighten has nothing to do with the candlelight. “Fine.” He grows bolder with his touches as his thumb traces my bottom lip. It sends a rush of warmth through my body.

“So, I was thinking…” I speak louder, gaining the attention of my target.

“That can never be a good thing.”

I laugh as I shove his shoulder. “Shut up. We both know you actually like my brain.”

“I like your heart more.”