20. Iris

Mom sniffles. “I can’t believe my baby is getting married.”

Something in my chest twinges. “You have?”

She nods. “I was worried I made a bad impression on you when you were a child. That I let my bitterness toward your father get in the way of showing you how to move on despite the hurt.”

As if she reads my thoughts, my mom continues, “Not all men are like your father. It took me a long time to realize that, but I’m glad you learned far quicker than me.”

She cups my cheek with her hand. “I’m proud of you for finally opening up to someone. For risking your heart knowing all the possibilities—good and bad. You’ve come so far.”

My throat tightens uncomfortably, and I look away to avoid her gaze, afraid she can read the truth in my eyes. There’s no way in hell I would ever open myself up to loving Declan. While I consider him a friend, he wants nothing to do with me in that way.

Nana steps out of the bathroom. “Are we done with all the sad stuff now? This is a wedding, not a funeral.”

Mom and I burst into laughter, and the moment is gone like it never happened in the first place. But the tight feeling in my chest still lingers long after the topic changes. Conversations about my father always stir up old demons, but today’s festivities might as well be a welcoming party for them.

Most girls dream of the day they walk down the aisle. I, on the other hand, always knew I would dread the reminder of growing up without a father. My mother offered to stand in his place, but I wanted to walk alone. I promised myself ages ago that I would just to prove a point to myself that I don’t need him. I didn’t back then and I sure as hell don’t now.

The music plays on cue. Everyone stands and turns their attention toward me. My entire body trembles from all the unwanted eyes assessing me, and I release a shaky breath.

You got this.

I smile beneath my veil, hiding the way my eyes prick from unshed tears. My eyes lift toward my destination. I nearly stumble as I find Declan’s eyes locked on me, but I catch myself. Whatever burns in his gaze sends goosebumps across my skin. I’m not sure I have ever seen Declan look at me like this, but it does something crazy to my heart rate.

I march down the aisle like a dedicated soldier reporting for duty.

Declan doesn’t take his eyes off me, probably to make sure I don’t make a run for the closest emergency exit. Something about his gaze today has my stomach feeling light and bubbly.

…Or it’s because of the last-minute champagne Nana offered me.

Because there is no way in hell that my boss gives me butterflies. The idea alone makes me want to cackle up to the roof like a madwoman.

Yeah, definitely the champagne. I’ve always been a bit of a lightweight.

Declan, like me, stands alone. I’m not sure why he didn’t choose one of his brothers to be his best man, but I’m somewhat relieved given my lack of options for a maid of honor. I don’t have many friends. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m too busy working all the time. Cal offered to step in and wear a pink suit for me, but I declined, saying pink wasn’t his color. We both know it’s a lie. But it seemed better than facing the reality that he is my only friend to speak of.

I stop at the front of the aisle and turn toward my fiancé with a hesitant smile. His jaw locks as his eyes roam over me, making my

skin flush under his scrutiny.

His hand traces the edge of my veil. I catch the slight tremble he tries to hide by fisting the fabric. Declan has always hated big crowds. Something about them makes him nervous, not that he would ever confess such a thing to a single soul.

But I know, and the secret makes me smile.

He doesn’t reply as he lifts the veil up and over my head.

Whatever he sees has him blinking twice.

His head does the smallest shake. “You look nice.”

Whatever buzz I felt all the way to the tips of my toes dies a quick death.

I. Look. Nice? Is he kidding me? He could have said anything—

literally anything—and it would have sounded a hell of a lot better than nice.

Screw him. I did not spend five hours in a salon chair, being poked, prodded, and waxed for him to say I look nice.

As if Declan can sense my brewing feelings, he grabs my bouquet of flowers and holds it out for someone. Both his hands clutch onto mine, locking me into place. Whatever expression on my face warrants a warning squeeze. Instead of allowing my anger to get the best of me, I plaster a fake smile on my face and give the priest a nod.

I’ll show him nice. Jackass.

The priest begins his lecture, but I can barely hear him over the erratic beat of my heart. Declan’s hands tighten around mine as the priest speaks about love, commitment, and hardships that will test us. I feel like a fraud for nodding along, feigning adoration. I’m sure to check the back of my dress to make sure I didn’t catch on fire for lying in the house of the Lord.

The rest of the ceremony is a blur with an exchange of standard vows. The closer we get toward the end, the heavier my breathing becomes. It’s not until Declan grabs my left hand in his that I nearly go into cardiac arrest.

Because Declan Kane doesn’t show his cards. Admitting he’s madly in love with you in front of a packed church isn’t on-brand.

He silences my thoughts as he slides a thin platinum band covered in diamonds up my finger.

The two sentences I mulled over for weeks escape me as I grab Declan’s ring from my mom’s waiting hand.

If Declan is annoyed at me stumbling over my words, he does a good job of not showing it. I clutch onto his left hand while holding onto his ring with the other. “Declan, I give you this ring as a symbol of my promises to you, as your partner and friend. May it serve as a reminder that even during our hardest days, you can always count on me to stand by your side.” I slide the band past his knuckle.

Our eyes connect. Something passes over his face. He almost seems angry, but that can’t be right? Sad? I somehow stop a laugh from escaping me. No, that can’t be true either. Declan has nothing to be sad about.

As if Declan realizes he revealed a tiny part of himself to our audience, he regains control over the emotions on his face.

And we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming.

The priest continues his spiel about trying times and the sacredness of wedding vows. He blesses us, our future children, and everyone attending our wedding.

And then the dreaded moment I blocked from my memory comes to light.

The priest steps backward toward his altar, giving us some space.

My eyes widen. Everyone around us goes silent. I don’t have to see them to know they’re curious about us. Declan hasn’t ever been seen with a woman, let alone kissing one.

My whole body shudders as Declan wraps one hand around the back of my neck. His fingers tighten, and his thumb traces my fluttering pulse point. The world shuts off as my boss leans in toward me, the expensive scent of him washing over me.

My knees go weak, and Declan’s other arm wraps around my waist to stop me from falling. He positions me in a way that hides our faces from the audience, keeping our private moment to ourselves.

This is it. He leans forward, and our breaths mingle together. I shut my eyes as his soft lips brush against the corner of my lips.

Wait, what? Not even a whole kiss? It was nothing but a tease meant to appease the masses surrounding us.

He pulls away, leaving only a centimeter between us. His eyes are screwed shut as if he is in pain.

Embarrassment makes my eyes sting. I whisper, “That was hands down the worst kiss in my whole life, and that’s saying something given my last ex—”

Declan’s lips slam against mine, shutting me up. A buzz that starts from my lips spreads through my body like a brushfire, and I’m lost in the feel of his lips pressed on mine.

My arms lock themselves around his neck like a lifeline. I feel like I’m lost at sea, drowning in all the sensations consuming me. The press of his chest against me. The weight of his palm burning into the small of my back. The brush of his finger across my neck, so soft it seems reverent.

I’m snapped out of the moment with a roar of applause.

Declan’s lips press against mine one last time as if to brand me with his touch. His forehead touches mine, and the sweetness of the gesture has my heart threatening to beat itself straight out of my chest.

What is he doing? More specifically, why are you feeling this way? I have officially lost it. For some reason, this chemical attraction to Declan doesn’t quite match my preconceived notion.

While he might be considered cold to the rest of the world, he makes me burn.

His words shouldn’t hurt. This is a ruse after all, yet the ache refuses to abate.

Maybe because you bought it too.

12

DECLAN

Ifind it difficult to tear my eyes away from Iris as we walk down the aisle toward the exit of the church. She is the embodiment of elegance and grace, with her smile as dazzling as the new diamond band on her finger. The ring serves as a reminder of her promise to me.

I wasn’t sure if we would ever make it to this point. After my failed engagement, I thought we would hit a snag. That maybe Iris would wake up one day and decide this was a huge mistake. But finally, for the first time in two weeks, I feel relief.

The pressure against my chest lessens with each step away from the altar. With one part of my inheritance complete, I only have one more standing in my way of becoming CEO.

Make it through the rest of today before worrying about that.

I twist my wedding ring with my thumb, testing the feel of the metal pressing against my skin. It doesn’t feel as oppressive as I expected. Iris chose a simple band that draws little attention to the eye. Both of our rings get a single message across.

Married.

Two ushers open the doors. Together, Iris and I walk out into the bright sunlight overhead. One of the photographers stops in front of

us and yells out our names. I wrap an arm around Iris’s waist and pull her against me, ignoring the way she tenses in my grasp.

Her reaction doesn’t surprise me, but it still frustrates me. After the heated kiss we shared, I thought she would have gotten used to my touch by now, but I was wrong. She erected another barrier between us instead. The detached look on her face has me testing boundaries. I want to recreate the look on her face right after our kiss, before the reality of our situation set in.

I run my hand down her back, tracing the row of ivory buttons.

She does nothing but shoot me a cold smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

I absolutely despise it.

Her fake laugh grates against my nerves. “Why would anything be wrong?”

I grimace. “You don’t look happy.”

I grin at the nervous laugh Iris lets out. The click of the camera goes off, catching the moment.

I shouldn’t give in to his demand, but I’m interested in seeing if our kiss was a one-off or a testament to our chemistry. The kiss I shared with Iris in the church was electric. The kind that shouldn’t feel as good as it did, given our circumstance.

The kind I am about to recreate with the hope that the buzz I got after was only a product of achieving the first task of my inheritance.

My arms curl around Iris’s back, tugging her against me. Her lips part and her eyes shut as I lean forward. Sparks break out across my skin as our lips touch, and liquid heat spreads through my veins.

Kissing her is addictive. Thrilling. So damn wrong I can’t help questioning why it isn’t right.

She’s your assistant.

I nip at her bottom lip to distract myself from the thought. She gasps, and I suck up the sound before it has a chance to be heard by the photographer.

You’re paying her to have your child.

My kiss turns more punishing, and she seems to respond well to my desperation. She groans as her arms wrap around my neck. Her bouquet tickles my skin, and I’m surrounded by the smell of flowers and Iris.

The photographer coughs. “All right. I got the shot.”

Reality hits me like a bucket of ice water, and I break away before I tug Iris back against me and repeat our kiss for more selfish purposes than a photo. Our kiss wasn’t some fluke or a high I got from completing my grandfather’s request. It’s far worse than that.

Iris blinks up at me with dilated eyes.

She is affected by you too.

It should fill me with some relief to know she is equally struggling, but I’m far too concerned about the fall-out of a discovery like this.

Before I have a chance to wrap my mind around what is happening between us, the doors behind me open. Hundreds of guests pour out of the church. They gather in a circle, suffocating us.

I hate the way they batter us with compliments almost as much as I despise the way the crowd grows larger by the minute.

Iris latches onto my hand. “Relax. Focus on me.”

That’s my issue. I can’t focus on anything but her.

I can’t bear looking at her for longer than a few seconds. The urge to steal her away from the crowd is difficult to ignore, and it wouldn’t take much for me to crack.

Remember what’s important here.

Iris remains silent as we are both shuffled into the Maybach. I spend the entire car ride to the reception location reminding myself of how acting on my attraction is not possible. Regardless of the two kisses we shared, nothing matters more than keeping things

professional between us. We have far too much riding on our positions to be getting lost in a fleeting attraction to one another.

My future is more important than satisfying some momentary urge to kiss Iris. I just need to keep telling myself that.

I hate weddings. They’re a cliché excuse for people to drink alcohol on my tab, all while pretending they actually care about my new marriage. They don’t. Everyone is solely here because no one would be stupid enough to turn down an invitation to what Iris deemed the wedding of the decade.

Unfortunately for me, I still have three more hours to get through, including cutting a cake right now.

A different photographer from earlier calls out for us to look at the camera. “Can I get a shot of you two with the cake?”

Iris smiles up at me. “Because we are going to share snapshots with the world to prove just how much we love one another.”

She laughs, and the bulb of the camera goes off. “Because you’re a famous billionaire who is in the business of selling fairy tales.”

I groan. “Fame is temporary.”

Being near her is the furthest thing from uncomfortable. Rather, the warmth of her touch sends a wave of want through me. I step closer to her so we can both approach the cake.

You’re pathetic. What happened to not wanting to get close to people?

I shake my head. I’m not trying to grow closer to Iris, but it’s hard to avoid her when everyone keeps pushing us together.

I glare at the photographer.

He gapes. “Never mind.” His flash goes off, catching me mid-death stare.

Iris laughs. “I need that one sent to me ASAP.”

I shoot her a look, and she only laughs harder. My chest tightens at the sound. Compared to the icy display she put on earlier for our guests, it feels good to make her warm back up to me.

And this is why you need to stay away from her. Because this feeling in your chest?

Merde.

The photographer snaps another photo before I dismiss him. My mood takes a turn for the worse, and I barely pay Iris any attention as we cut the cake. We go through all the motions. She feeds me and I feed her. A few people gasp when she smashes a bit of cake in my face, and I return the favor by shoving a spoonful of cake into her mouth while she is mid-laugh.

Nothing about it is real. I’m detached, but not enough to miss the flicker of hurt in her eyes when I abandon her for the bar. I’m a dick for leaving her to manage the crowd that formed around us. I know it with every fiber in me, just like I know sticking around her is weakening my resolve.

I didn’t marry her for love, money, or affection. I married her because I’m a greedy asshole who will stop at nothing to get what I want, even if it means subjecting her to the same fucked-up happily ever after as me. A few kisses and some touching isn’t going to change our destiny, so why pretend this is anything but an arrangement?

It’s all for the best. At least I tell myself as much as I knock back my first drink of the night.

Alcohol doesn’t solve anyone’s problems.

My stomach rolls. The feeling has nothing to do with the drink I burned through and everything to do with the idea of using alcohol to cope. A bartender rushes over to fill my glass, but I push the empty tumbler out of reach.

You’re not him.

I step away from the bar before I do something I will regret.

13

IRIS

My stomach does a little flip at the loving gesture. Watching them interact is nauseating, with Zahra smiling up at Rowan like he hung the moon for her. I’m oddly fascinated by their interactions given my limited exposure to happy couples over the years. Maybe there is some hope after all if someone as grumpy and isolated as Rowan could look at a woman like that.

I shouldn’t be bitter at my own wedding but seeing as my husband has avoided me as much as humanly possible after we cut the cake, I’m not doing too well. Something shifted in him ever since the church, and I can’t help but wonder if it was our kiss.

Rowan’s chest shakes from silent laughter as he pulls up a chair beside Zahra.

Cal grabs the bottle and pours tequila into four shot glasses. “You can’t leave a wedding sober. It’s sacrilegious.”

Whatever she says has him swallowing the first shot before pouring himself a second one.

He tucks her hair behind her ear and whispers something in return that has her cheeks blushing.

Gross. I grab my glass and pull it to my lips. Except the rim never touches my mouth because it’s stolen straight from my hand.

Cal waves the tequila bottle in Declan’s direction. “Come on. Sit down with us and have a celebratory shot.”

Declan shoots Cal a scathing look. “I think you’ve done enough celebrating.”

Something about his comment has me muffling my laugh with a shaky palm.

His lips pull down into a frown. I take a few wobbly steps toward him before clutching onto his tux so I don’t fall over. I use one hand to push the corner of his scowl up into a smile. “There. All better.”

I pout. “But why?”

His three heads merge into one angry version. “Because one of us has some self-control,” he snaps.

Rowan backs me up.

Declan points at Rowan. “Don’t get me started on you.”

The way the three of them interact has me raising a brow in Zahra’s direction. “See. I told you they never get along.”

Zahra smiles. “Yet.”

I throw her a thumbs-up over my shoulder. Turns out she is the only other person besides Cal and Rowan who knows about the whole sham. Not that I would tell Declan. I’m pretty sure he would murder Rowan for risking our big secret like that.

Declan steers me toward the exit of the ballroom.

Declan lets out the longest sigh ever. My chest vibrates from withheld laughter.

He turns me toward him. “What’s so funny about this?”

His reddened cheeks make me smile.

One point for Team Iris.

Tati has the DJ request for all the ladies to gather around on the dance floor for the bouquet toss. Declan holds on to me as if he’s scared I might topple over due to my unsteadiness. I imagine he only does so because he wants to make sure people buy our marriage.

So much for forgetting about what he said in the church.

My mom passes me the bouquet with a knowing smile. “I was holding onto it for you.”

She shakes her head. “Take care of my girl, Declan. Try to get her to sleep before she enters the drunk crying phase.”

I giggle.

I pat his cheek. “Only in your dreams, sweet husband of mine.”

I turn around, giving the crowd my back.

I turn on my heels and almost slip from the rush, only for Declan to catch me and pull me into his firm chest.

Firm chest? Ugh. Maybe you are drunk after all.

The bouquet lands in someone’s open arms with a slap. I don’t recognize the woman who caught it, but the crowd around her squeals as they try to latch onto my bouquet with greedy hands.

announces Declan's turn with the garter belt.

Oh shit.

I bristle as he squeezes my hip. Cal slaps a hundred-dollar bill in the DJ’s hand as Rowan drags a chair out to the middle of the dance floor.

Cal waltzes over to help me into the chair, being mindful of the layers of lace and tulle swirling around me like a parachute.

An unobservable blush spreads from my head to my toes.

On cue, the DJ plays the most sensual song known to man. My tummy has a thousand little champagne bubbles popping along to the beat, all while my heart rate picks up speed.

Declan bends a knee and settles into a comfortable position in front of me. His left hand shakes again before he fists it, just like it did when everyone watched us slow dance earlier.

Turns out he is human after all.

I tug him out of his nervous thoughts.

His hand touches my covered thigh, barely leaving a dent from the layers of material. “This is wrong,” he mutters.

His head shakes as a noise that I interpret as a laugh breaks free from him. “You’re so drunk.”

He shrugs. “Sober enough.”

He doesn’t reply as he lifts the fabric of my dress ever so carefully so no one catches a glimpse of me down there. My lungs squeeze, trying to take in oxygen as Declan disappears under my gown.

I tune them all out, focusing on the heightened experience. The scrape of Declan’s stubble against my calf. The brush of his hair on the inside of my thighs as he parts them with his head. The feel of his teeth grazing the skin around the garter, accompanied by the press of his soft lips as he clamps down around the frilly piece of lace.

I shiver, and a vibration of his throat tells me Declan noticed and laughed.

I hate him. I hate my husband so much, he is lucky I don’t choke him with the damn thing once he comes back up for air.

Declan drags the garter belt down my leg. He pulls out from underneath my skirt with the strip of white lace stuck between his teeth. With an angry yank, he tugs the material from his mouth and launches it in the air without sparing it a second glance.

I tap on his shoulder. “Umm, Declan?”

He sighs like I’m the biggest inconvenience in the world. “You couldn’t walk a straight line out the door in flats, let alone in those shoes.”

His brows pull together. “What?”

I sigh. “Jose does have a way with words.”

His arms tighten around me. “Who the fuck is Jose?”

I grin into the lapel of his jacket. “Nobody important.”

One might think Declan would soften a bit toward me now that I am officially his wife.

Wrong.

The moment Harrison pulls up in the Maybach, Declan all but throws me in the back seat. I drop into the quilted leather with an oomph, and the material of my dress fans around me like a cloud.

Declan ignores me as he shuts the door in my face. I’m almost positive some of my dress hangs outside, caught in the doorjamb.

His elderly driver nearly trips over his feet to beat Declan to his door. Poor Harrison is probably afraid to lose his job based on the scary look on Declan’s face. Not that I blame him.

But what triggered his anger? Declan doesn’t spare me another glance as he takes a seat, which only adds to the weight pressing against my chest.

Crickets.

The only reply I get is the revving of the engine as Declan’s driver takes off.

After a whole five minutes of silence, my tequila-riddled brain gives in.

Declan remains silent as he continues scrolling through his phone.

His hand holding the phone tightens. Hmm. Interesting.

The tic in his jaw makes another appearance, yet he doesn’t bother looking at me. Come on. Give me something to work with.

Declan’s head snaps up. “We are not going to dinner with them.”

I clench a fistful of my dress. “Lucky for you I’m doing this for free.”

His eyes return to the screen of his phone. “Don’t bother. I’m not going to dinner with Rowan and his girlfriend.”

I can’t remove the horrific look off my face. “God, your ability to hold a grudge is terrifying.”

My chest tightens. I thought Declan and I were falling into a comfortable friendship, but his mood tonight has me questioning if he was only entertaining me so I wouldn’t back out of our arrangement.

His words from the night of our engagement come back to haunt me. There is nothing I won’t do to earn my inheritance. Remember that when you forget this is only a game to me.

Is that what this all was? A game? Now that he got his way, there’s no reason to play anymore. The idea causes a weird ache in my chest, right above my heart.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. There’s no one to blame but myself. Declan was always clear about his intentions, and I stupidly read into our relationship all wrong.

Why do you care in the first place? This isn’t even real.

Because maybe somewhere along the way, I forgot that all of this was a lie.

I don’t speak to Declan for the remainder of the drive. If ignoring each other was a sport, we would both be team captains with the way neither one of us speaks.

Once Harrison parks the car, I fight my way past pounds of tulle and lace and exit with as much grace as a newborn horse.

I don’t turn around. I’m too afraid that all my emotions will be written clear as day across my face. “I’m going to bed.”

The urge to stomp my foot hits me but I refrain. “Right.” Stupid purse. I knew I should have gone with the wedding dress that had pockets.

I turn back, avoiding his eyes as I pull open the door and search the empty back seat.

He offers my clutch. The glittery Mrs. Kane shines underneath the overhead lights, looking just as horrendous as the day the wedding planner gifted me the accessory. Based on the expression on Declan’s face, he equally dislikes the way his name is flaunted like a show pony. I might not have experienced the same issues as him growing up, but I’m starting to understand him a bit more. Based on the way people treated me at the wedding, becoming a Kane feels like an open invitation for clout chasers and career climbers to have at me.

I stare down at the clutch, which serves as a reminder of my duty.

Of the promise I made to Declan to stand by him no matter what.

No matter how much he schemes to get his way.

He steps out of the way. I attempt to make my escape, only to be held back by Declan gripping onto my elbow. His hold doesn’t hurt, but it speaks a silent request.

Stay.

But why?

I look up at him. “What?”

I swear, the rise and fall of his moods tonight is driving me insane.

His jaw clenches. “Answer the question.”

I rear back, ripping my elbow from his grasp. “Trust me. It might have taken me much longer than others, but I finally understand why everyone calls you that.”

His long blink speaks for itself. “What?”

—is unacceptable. But I guess you couldn’t care less about how or when you hurt other people’s feelings, as long as you get your way.”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault for setting unrealistic expectations about us in the first place.”

His eyes narrow ever so slightly.

I keep going, wanting to clear the air once and for all. “I never did all of this for love. Obviously.” An awkward laugh forces its way out of me. “I only wanted to help you because I thought we were friends. And yes, before you say you never wanted to be my friend, I’m aware it was probably stupid to think that. I’ve since learned my lesson.”

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “I realize I don’t want to be your friend either. Because getting close to you means questioning your motives about everything, and frankly, that’s way too much effort for someone who doesn’t seem to like me in the first place.”

14

IRIS

Ihold my head up high the entire walk toward my bedroom. Rather than feel unsettled from my conversation with Declan, I’m hit with a wave of calmness. It seems like we are finally back to where we stood with one another before our whirlwind engagement. Sure, a cake tasting and a family dinner might have been a fun change of pace for us, but that’s all it was.

A show for the masses—kind of like a Royal Tour.

It takes me a whole twenty minutes to undo hours of hair and makeup. I might have ripped off half my eyelashes from lash glue, but it’s a small price to pay for finally feeling like myself again.

By the time I get to removing my dress, I almost throw out my back trying to undo the vintage buttons lining my spine.

There’s no way you’re getting out of this dress by yourself. I let out a resigned sigh as I swallow my pride and exit my room.

My fist knocking against Declan’s door echoes off the tall ceilings. I stand there, waiting for him to open up. The pressure in my chest builds as time ticks by. Ten seconds turns into thirty, and before I know it, I’m knocking again. “Declan! I need your help!”

Well, that hurts to admit. If he was sleeping, he sure isn’t now. The jangle of the doorknob gives me hope that I won’t need to fall asleep in my wedding dress tonight.

Now that’s a depressing thought.

When Declan opens the door, I want to run in the opposite direction. My heart rate goes from steady to rapid at the sight of Declan’s muscular, naked chest on full display.

I choke on my next inhale of breath.

Water droplets trickle down inches of pale muscle before disappearing into a white towel wrapped around his narrow waist.

He has V-cut abdominal muscles that point like an arrow to an area I sure as hell should not be thinking about right now. An area that only proves Declan is well-endowed even when not aroused.

Warmth pools deep in my belly. My eyes give him another once-over, and my hands itch to reach out and trace the slab of muscle also known as his stomach.

This can’t be happening to me. My eyes snap up toward his face, hoping he missed my temporary lapse of sanity.

He raises a brow at me in silent anticipation.

Oh my God. He knows that you like what you see.

I try to think up a response, but my throat feels dry suddenly.

His help! Right!

Declan circles around me like a predator. His muscles shift with each step, and I’m surprised my tongue doesn’t roll out of my mouth like a dog as I pant after him.

He drags my wild hair over my shoulder, and goosebumps spread across my skin.

That should not be happening.

Anyone with eyes would be attracted to a set of abs. It’s evolution beckoning us to choose a mate who can provide for us.

Provide what? Endless stamina and orgasms? I reply.

A laugh escapes me before I have a chance to stop it. “Hundred and twenty according to Nana.”

He grunts. “Come inside so I can see them better in the light.”

The invitation is innocent, but my body doesn’t seem to get the memo as Declan ushers me into his room and toward the light on his nightstand.

Please don’t.

Whatever expression I have on my face makes the corners of his lips lift.

My cheeks burn from being caught ogling him.

He raises a brow. “It’s rude to stare.”

Atta girl.

He shakes his head and enters his closet without sparing me another glance.

I take a moment to observe the personal objects on his nightstand. A worn copy of The Great Gatsby has five different sticky notes protruding from the yellowed pages, neatly lined up next to a remote control for his TV. My eyes widen at the small cactus I bought him two years ago as a Christmas gift.

I startle at the sound of his voice. “But it’s been two years!” And he keeps it on his nightstand. I don’t have the nerve to ask him why that is, although the urge rides me hard.

He shuts me up by tracing a finger down the base of my spine, right beside the hundred ivory buttons. The pot in my hand trembles as his hot breath hits the back of my neck. My skin prickles in response, and I place the pot down in order to hide the way my hands shake from his proximity.

He starts with the top button, only to fumble. His frustrated grunt makes me laugh.

I giggle again as he slips again.

I roll my eyes. “Of course they are.”

I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. “Well, we need to figure it out because I can’t sleep in this.”

He sighs as he tries one last time and fails. “Scissors or a knife?”

I head to my bedroom, open a box labeled gardening supplies, and pull out a pair of shears. They still have a little bit of dirt on them, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’ll be wearing this dress ever again, although the option to donate it is not completely off the table.

He looks down at them. “This is not how I expected tonight would go.”

Our eyes lock, and something passes between us. One look sends sparks across my skin and my heart into cardiac arrest. It’s as if our outburst in the garage never happened. While I want to be annoyed at myself, I can’t help it when it comes to him. He might be an asshole, but I knew what I was signing up for when I married him.

I’m already feeling weak tonight as it is.

He grips onto the lace collar of my dress. “Don’t move an inch.”

The cold brush of metal against the base of my neck has me sucking in a breath.

I wouldn’t dare. Not with the way my legs are threatening to give out at any moment.

The sound of shears cutting through lace sends another round of goosebumps across my arms. Chilly air hits the skin at the top of my spine, and I press the front of my dress against my chest to prevent it from falling at my feet.

Declan cuts through the fabric slower than necessary, and the blunt side of the shears brushes my back with each snip.

With a few last cuts, my entire back is on display for him. He chucks the shears on the bed once the job is done. Neither one of us moves, and my anxiety grows with each second that passes. I look over my shoulder to find him staring at my bare back like a puzzle he can’t solve.

He tugs, and a white long string snaps. “This was bothering me.”

I watch with horror as the thread falls by his bare feet. Of course while I was lusting after his touch, he was thinking about a fucking string. It’s horrifying to think I wanted him to be attracted to me.

Tonight is the final wakeup call I needed. No matter how my body might react to his touch, it’s only that. A reaction of chemicals responding to pheromones. Nothing but natural selection doing its thing, pushing me to mate with the worst partner on the planet, solely because he’s hot and available.

I refuse to let myself fall for his touch again. Because next time, there might not be a string that snaps me out of making a terrible decision.

15

DECLAN

Iacted like a dick last night for a multitude of reasons. The way I presented myself at my wedding was the first misstep in a series of regrets, all because I couldn’t get a handle on my feelings. After all these years, one would think I would have mastered the art of not giving a fuck. It’s disappointing to know all it took was Iris in a wedding dress to ruin all my hard work.

You won’t be making that mistake again.

Not if I can help it. I stayed up far too late last night going over my new approach toward our fake marriage. Whatever happened on our wedding night is in the past. From now on, we will be more careful to avoid putting ourselves in situations that could lead to disastrous consequences.

Like you opening the door in a towel, knowing she was on the other side?

Exactly. Not my smartest move, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.

I knock on her bedroom door with my free hand. She yells something indecipherable with a raspy voice, so I rap my knuckles against the wood again. A thud that sounds oddly like a pillow slamming against the door makes me smile to myself.

Iris might be many good things, but a morning person she is not.

I clear my throat. “I was out on my run and grabbed you some coffee.”

It is eerie how she knows that. “Yes.”

My teeth grind together. “Obviously.”

Her muffled moan through the door sends a current of energy down my spine. “And extra whipped cream?”

I sigh. “Open your door and find out.”

Her laugh trickles through the cracks of the door in the same way it seeps through my chest. I wait a whole two minutes while she does who knows what inside of her room. She finally opens it up, revealing red-rimmed eyes accentuated by smeared mascara. It shouldn’t stir up any kind of interest on my end, but the way my blood heats at her faded T-shirt dragging across her mid-thigh makes me question my sanity. It requires an unbearable amount of effort to turn my gaze away from her thighs. I take my time making it to her face, easily becoming distracted by the swell of her breasts pressed against the fabric of her T-shirt.

Snap out of it.

Our fingers brush, sending the faintest buzz across my skin.

Her eyes snap up to my face before she focuses on the coffee cup.

Shit, Declan. Where the hell did that come from?

I didn’t mean for it to slip out.

Say what you came here to say and get the hell out of here.

No way in hell am I touching that comment. I press my lips together to avoid saying anything else.

Then you shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

Her gaze hardens. “I think it’s time we set some ground rules.”

Her smile could bring a man to his knees. “Let’s review. Every look.” She drags her eyes across my body like a phantom touch, burning my skin in their wake. “Every touch.” It only takes a single finger of hers brushing across my cheek to beckon me forward like a man starved for attention. “Every kiss.” This time, she grips my chin roughly, tugging my head down. Her lips brush the corner of mine.

It’s an exact replica of my kiss at our engagement party, yet this one elicits a whole different reaction from me. “Is nothing but a lie.”

I’m rock solid beneath my running shorts. I clear my throat, blinking away the arousal in my eyes before she catches on.

So much for being on the same page.

In the past.

She raises her brow. “Then why are you here? With coffee?”

She won’t find any. I’ve made sure of it.

I start with the hardest subject first. “Our kiss…”

My skin burns hot under my T-shirt. “Kisses. As in never happening again.”

She smiles. “Fine. You won’t hear any objections from me.”

Fine? I at least expected her to put up a bit of a fight. Based on the way she looked at me last night, I thought she would do something other than stare at me with a smug smile.

Maybe you read her wrong.

Something flashes in her eyes before she recovers. “Good. God forbid you actually have to pretend to be into me.”

It was a shitty yet effective thing to say. My words do their damage, just like they’re supposed to. It’s for the best. The way I was compelled to touch her last night, without a single person watching us, says enough.

If this is a glimpse into what marriage is like, I see why our divorce rates are shit. I’ll be lucky if I don’t become some national statistic before our time is up.

I knew my father wanting to meet with me for lunch was a trap, yet I willingly went along with his invitation anyway. After his conversation with Iris, I’m interested in determining just how much of a problem he is going to be for me. My intuition tells me nothing about my battle for the CEO position will be easy.

My father’s brown eyes swing from the menu to my face. “Any honeymoon plans?”

He sighs. “I’m simply making small talk.”

Bullshit. Every question he asks and all the statements he makes always have an ulterior motive. Because of him, I became an expert in reading between the lines.

I don’t miss the double meaning behind his words. “I had a lot of practice picking up after someone’s messes over the years.”

He dares to fake his displeasure. “I don’t hate you.”

Unlike Cal or Rowan, you aren’t afraid to speak your mind.”

He chuckles. “I thought I taught you better than to underestimate your enemy.”

Something snaps inside of me. “Talk about her like that again and I swear I’ll make your last twelve months as CEO absolutely miserable.”

I can work with him or against him. For the sake of the company, I’ve been willing to do the first option, but if he continues to insult

Iris, all bets are off. She has proven herself loyal time and time again, so the least I can do is defend her from scum like him.

Whatever expression he sees on my face draws a deep chuckle from him.

I make an effort to keep my gaze blank and withdrawn.

He slowly shakes his head. “To think I considered you my smartest son. What a disappointment.”

He raises his glass of water. “Let the best Kane win.”

I tap mine to his. “He already did.”

I need to commit to my role as a doting husband—honeymoon included.

Iris looks up from her desktop with a pinched expression. “To Tokyo?”

She looks around the room and under her desk.

The faintest smile crosses her lips. “Either that or a wiretap. Just to be clear, I have never nor will I ever take drugs. Whatever green substance you might find in my room is definitely Cal’s.”

Her face contorts as she slams a palm against her chest. “Cal is right. You are a monster.”

Her lips purse. “By going on a honeymoon? How is that going to solve anything?”

She laughs. “You must live such a sad life if you think sacrificing work for a honeymoon is a declaration of your affection.”

Wouldn’t it?

I grimace. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Her eyes roll. “Sure. We can do things your way since you have so much experience when it comes to relationships.” She mumbles something about men always think they know everything under her breath.

I knock my fist against her desk. “Book the plane for Friday.”

She squeals. “No! Even if it was, I refuse to let this golden opportunity go to waste. I haven’t had a vacation in years.”

She slaps her desk with a stern look. “You mean there’s supposed to be something better than marrying you? I refuse to believe it.”

I turn and walk toward my door, hiding the grin spreading across my face. Iris is the only person with the ability to make me smile.

Not that she knows it. I’ve done everything in my power to hide how much sway she has over my moods.

16

IRIS

If someone told me a month ago that Declan would hand me his black card and tell me to plan a honeymoon, I would have sent them to the nearest hospital to get their head checked. But low and behold, Declan does just that.

I squeal as I spin around in my chair.

I clamp down on my lips while I grab my cellphone and text Cal.

Me: Guess who is going on a honeymoon after all?

Cal: How did you make him crack?

Cal: Waterboarding?

Cal: Sleep deprivation?

Cal: Sex???

Cal: Wait. If it’s the last one, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.

I laugh as I type up my response.

Me: Your father.

Cal: *Pretends to be shocked.

Me: Do you want to help me plan something?

Cal: I’ll be there in 15.

.

I shake my head. “Sounds boring.” Good thing Cal can’t see the way my cheeks burn from the lie.

More like what could be wrong with me if I were to choose a honeymoon location that would require Declan to walk around shirtless and wet all day long. Even I know my limits, and that is one of them. After the little show I got last time Declan was shirtless, it’s best we don’t test the waters.

Cal uses the computer mouse to scroll through the newspaper article recommending the Top Ten Honeymoon Spots in the World.

I scrunch my nose. “No.”

He stares me down. “What about South Africa?”

Huh. Now that is an idea…

He looks absolutely horrified by my interest. “You can’t be serious. You would choose a safari over Bora Bora?”

I frown. “This might be a honeymoon, but it isn’t meant to be romantic.”

The more Cal pushes me on it, the more I find the idea of going on a safari appealing. Nothing says hands off quite like bug spray, motion sickness, and watching animals devour each other. With a busy trip like that, the risk of Declan and I doing something stupid is slim to none.

I throw my napkin on the table and pat my distended belly.

Cal groans, and I smile.

Case solved.

Planning a trip to Africa at the last minute is stressful. I need to juggle Declan’s busy schedule, doctors’ appointments so we can get our shots, and calling safari lodges to see who has availability at the last minute. I do all this while working from nine to nine every single day.

Declan is absolutely useless when it comes to planning anything, so I’m stuck doing everything on my own. Flights. Travel itineraries.

Sleeping arrangements. Everything falls on my shoulders since Declan doesn’t care where we go, so long as I post a few photos and make it seem like we are having a good time. His words. Not mine.

Because of his attitude, I don’t feel bad booking the most expensive safari lodge on our list. I even book a trip to the salon to get my hair braided—all on his personal card. That’s what he gets for being so cold and unfeeling about the whole process. The least he could have done was ask me if I needed any help. Or even thanked me for putting all this together at the last minute, all so he could prove to everyone how we are some happy couple.

It’s the smallest things that make people feel appreciated. Not that Declan cares.

I sigh as I stare out the car window.

Declan remains silent.

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.

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?”

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.

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.”

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

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

I glare. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

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.”

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

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.

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.”

His brow raises in silent question.

I become engrossed in pushing back my cuticles. “It forced people to send me their assignments earlier than usual because no one wanted to interrupt your sexy time for a signature. It was a win-win really. I was able to prepare your Monday briefing reports before the weekend and they earned promotions for their diligent work.”

He blinks at me. “You had them believe this for a year?”

I grin. “Nope. Considered it a business expense.”

He rubs his eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I know everything about you, and then you open your mouth and say something like that.”

My cheeks heat and I hide my bashfulness with a smile.

His response is interrupted by the flight attendant showing up with our bottle of champagne. She pops the cork and moves to pour

us a glass, purposefully leaning forward. One peek at her cleavage pushes me into action.

I interrupt her. “I got it.”

Her face reddens as she places the bottle on the table and leaves.

Declan rewards my brazenness with a deep chuckle so low, I can barely hear it over the hum of the plane’s engines.

I smile in return as I lift my flute in the air toward Declan. “To the vacation I desperately needed.”

He begrudgingly grabs the other. “And the honeymoon I never wanted.”

I tap my flute against his. “Cheers!”

It takes me two whole days to recover from a severe case of jet lag.

By the third morning, I am feeling better than ever. My head brushes against my silk pillowcase as I turn on my side and stare out my panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bush. The moon glistens off the surface of our private pool, and I’m tempted to dive in to wake myself up.

I stretch my legs before doing a celebratory wiggle in bed. I haven’t had a vacation since before I started working for Declan, so the idea of spending ten days off the grid has me wanting to dance my way through my morning routine.

The sound of my alarm breaks the silence. If I wasn’t used to waking up early for work, the 5 a.m. schedule here would have sucked big time. I’m quick with getting ready given my limited choices of safari-appropriate clothing.

By the time I make it to our living room, I expect Declan to be annoyed that I’m ten minutes late. Except Declan isn’t here. I spin around in a circle before making my way through our private villa.

His room is located on the opposite side of the place, giving him an equally beautiful view of our pool outside.

A muffled noise comes through the bottom of his bedroom door.

I turn the knob and push his door open, finding Declan bent over a desk, looking fresh as a daisy in a three-piece suit. I try my best to ignore the way his ass sticks out, but my eyes linger on his form-fitting pants because I’m not blind. Although the little jolt in my heart concerns me enough to avert my gaze back to his face.

I frown at his attire. “You can’t go out like that. The lions will eat you alive.”

He ignores me as he scribbles something down on a notepad.

I check the time on my phone. “We’re supposed to meet with the ranger in five minu—”

He glares at me as he holds a finger to his mouth.

Tanaka. Of course Declan would answer a call from Mr. Yakura’s assistant. She and her VIP boss are one of the few people who have direct access to Declan’s personal line.

Ms. Tanaka spouts something off in Japanese and Declan responds without missing a beat. Watching him shift between languages always impresses me. Whether it is Spanish, Portuguese, Mandarin, or Japanese, the way the words roll easily off Declan’s tongue is something to be admired. I’ve tried to pick up on a few words here and there while listening in on his conversations, but I never had a knack for any kind of words—let alone foreign ones.

While Declan speaks to Ms. Tanaka, I enter his closet and start unloading his luggage. I make quick work of the job since I was the one who packed everything anyway. The suit was a surprise, and I’m somewhat peeved Declan thought to pack it in the first place. We were supposed to be on the same page about all this, including no work.

Because really, what is the point of going through this entire sham of a honeymoon if he is going to work the entire time. That doesn’t scream happily in love.

Ms. Tanaka finally ends the call, and I exit his closet with a safari-approved outfit. “Here. Change into this.”

I blink at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

His eyes shift from my face to my trembling arm holding onto his clothes with an iron grip. “Mr. Yakura wants to meet in a few hours to discuss the latest proposal.”

He doesn’t let me finish. “I refuse to give up when I’m this close to securing the deal, especially after I promised the board I would follow through on delivering Dreamland Tokyo.” He paces the width of his room. His large body makes me feel as if the walls are closing in around me.

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’m understanding you.”

Declan’s brows pull together. “You’re upset.”

I throw my arms in the air. “That’s exactly my problem. I understand your needs even at the expense of my own.”

I instantly want to take back the words, if only to erase the scary expression on Declan’s face.

So much for keeping yourself in check.

His lips flatten, turning the pink color white from the pressure of his grimace.

Abort mission. “Never mind—”

It takes all my willpower to not break eye contact. “Yes.”

His question throws me off. Does he actually care about how I feel? He has never made it a point in the past to check in with me about my needs, and there have been plenty of opportunities. Like the Christmas I missed because he planned a business trip or the hundreds of plans I had to cancel last minute because of some Kane Company emergency.

Over the last three years, my life slowly disappeared until my identity became Mr. Kane’s assistant.

This is your chance to confess how unhappy you’ve become with your job. I open my mouth to speak my mind but something in his gaze stops me. The skin around his darkening eyes tightens.

His phone rings, cutting through the silence. The hand clutching onto it hesitates.

He doesn’t want to deal with your shitty mood right now when he has more important things he needs to handle.

I put on my best smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Forget it. I’m being extra grumpy from jet lag and waking up earlier than usual for our safari. It’s nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix.”

His phone stops chiming. “Listen—”

His mouth opens, but I don’t stick around. The last thing I hear before shutting his bedroom door behind me is his deep rumble of a voice barking an order at an innocent caller.

Declan, like the complete asshole boss he tends to be under most circumstances, sends me a recorded voice note requesting that I make a PowerPoint just in case Mr. Yakura wants a visual aid for his meeting.

The only visual aid I want is of my hands wrapped around Declan’s neck, stopping his airflow.

Okay. Turn it down about ten notches.

Once I rein my temper in, I get back to work. It takes me two hours to create a PowerPoint based on our combined messy notes.

What would take a normal person an hour to compile takes me double because I have to triple-check each slide for errors. The last thing I want is for Declan to berate me for a silly typo or incorrect punctuation mark.

After I finish the slideshow, I send Declan a message sarcastically asking if he needed anything else from me. I should have expected it would backfire. Declan throws task after task my way, each more irritating than the last.

Check in with our Tokyo sponsors to make sure they are still interested.

Contact the head of marketing and have him send me an estimated expense report.

Schedule me a last-minute meeting with Rowan before Yakura jumps on the video call.

The more demands he places, the stronger my anger becomes.

I’m supposed to have ten days of vacation time. After being denied three years’ worth of paid time off, I want my break.

I need it.

Maybe you want more than that.

My head drops into my hands as I let out a frustrated groan.

While I appreciate my job and the many opportunities Declan has given me, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

Better yet, I don’t want to do this.

I’m turning twenty-four this year and what do I have to say for myself? Most of my life revolves around Declan and making sure he has everything he needs to be successful. I even married the man so he achieves everything he dreamed of—all because I care about him way more than he could ever reciprocate. He gave me a chance when no one believed in me, and for that, I owe him.

My actions say more about me and less about him. I put my needs aside because I thought it would make me happy to help

others. And while it feels great to see everyone else achieve their dreams, it leaves me with a gaping hole in my chest.

Nothing will change unless you do.

Maybe Cal was right. If I keep making excuses for myself, I will never find the right time to take the next big step in my life.

Yet you tried already and failed.

I sigh. Despite all the failures in my life, somehow not being hired for an entry-level HR position stings the most.

So what if you failed? You’re never going to accomplish anything worthwhile if you keep to your comfort zone.

But what about Declan? The voice that has had far too much say over my past decisions speaks up. And like always, I listen, pushing aside my thoughts as I get started on Declan’s next task.

17

DECLAN

There’s been something off about Iris ever since I told her we needed to cancel our safari for the day. I thought she would get over her mood by noon, but I was wrong. She only speaks to me through email, despite being a quick walk away from my bedroom, and she avoids all the common areas of the bungalow. The way she ignores me makes me far more frustrated than I would ever care to admit.

I consider checking in on her a few times but think better of it.

Whenever she’s gotten irritated at work, I’ve found it best to leave her alone to sort out her feelings. She knows the stakes here, and she of all people knows how much this deal means to me. It would be ridiculous for her to think I would tell Yakura no after the struggle I went through to get him on the phone.

Our meeting time closes in, and Iris still hasn’t come to set up the computer. I grab my phone to call her, but it turns out that I don’t need to. She walks into the living room with her laptop tucked beneath her arm.

The ever-present tightness in my chest whenever she is around intensifies as I scan her from head to toe. Gone are her usual high heels and dresses, replaced by an all-black outfit that accentuates every dip and curve of her body.

I stand taller in her presence if only to make her notice me.

Except she doesn’t as she busies herself with setting up the computer for our video call without sparing me a glance.

I somehow resist the temptation to grab her chin and force her to look up at me, instead settling on stepping in her way. “Ready?”

Her hand clutching the charging cable tightens around the cord like a chokehold. “Yup.”

Still, her gaze doesn’t meet mine. Her lack of acknowledgment shouldn’t be a concern for me when I have more pressing issues to handle, yet I am acutely aware of the tension building between us.

I don’t like it. Not one bit.

She seems to not like my command based on the way she smashes her fingers against the keyboard. “Why would anything be wrong?”

What I find reflecting in them is not what I expected. She might as well wave a red flag above her head, warning me to stay away.

Yet I find it impossible to ignore the way her eyes glisten.

I have come to realize that, while her smile might be my weakness, her damp lashes clinging together will surely be my downfall.

Her nostrils flare. She stands tall, barely reaching my chin. “You want me to be honest?” Her voice drops dangerously low.

For a brief moment, her iciness melts away as her gaze softens.

Her gaze shifts away from me as she focuses on a far corner of the room. “I—” The chiming notification on the computer screen cuts her off. Her bitter laugh fills the room. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Fuck the meeting.

The thought acts like a punch to the throat. My ragged inhale does little to calm me, and my thoughts spiral out of control.

You’re losing sight of what’s important.

I shake my head, sobering up as I unbutton the front of my jacket and settle onto the couch in front of the laptop. “We’ll continue this conversation after.” I leave no room for opposition.

I don’t understand how he can be so damn happy all the time. He reminds me of a golden retriever—all smiles and good times. It’s mind-boggling how someone like him, with all the power on his side of the hemisphere, can act the way he does.

Not everyone is a miserable fuck like you.

His chuckle eases some of the tension from my shoulders.

Her smile seems far less forced than mine. “Everything is great.

Same old, same old over here. Just busy working my life away one day at a time.”

Our eyes meet through the camera, and mine narrow in silent warning.

Iris’s smile drops a fraction before she bounces back. “I see you heard about our news.”

Somehow that word seems to be haunting me regardless of the person. I’m not sure why people are so infatuated with becoming my friend. They would find me lacking in every way, from never remembering their birthday to always leaving their messages unread.

She waves him off. “No worries. It was spur of the moment anyway.” Iris lays her diamond-clad hand on my shoulder, and Yakura’s eyes track the movement. I remain stiff in my seat as a burning sensation in my gut surges to life.

The urge to roll my eyes nearly overtakes me.

Iris gives my shoulder a pat of approval. Years ago, when Iris asked me about my favorite color, I told her I didn’t have one.

Naturally, given her frequent bouts of insanity, she adopted one for me. It’s become a running joke on her end where every gift-giving occasion includes something green, as if oversaturating me with the color will make me like it.

It doesn’t. If anything, it always reminds me of her.

This is what you’ve been waiting for. My breath stalls in my lungs as I wait for him to continue.

I don’t blink. I don’t smile. I don’t do anything but stare into the camera, wondering how this proposal won him over compared to the others.

What changed?

Who gives a shit? All that matters is he wants to work together.

He nods. “I am excited as well. But I would like you to iron out a few last details before I present the deal to the board.”

Yakura claps his hands together as he reviews the changes he would like me to address, including Japanese sponsors he wants

brought on to the project. “Great. Will it be too much trouble to ask for an updated proposal with a project timeline so I can share it with the company board this Friday?”

The hand on my shoulder tightens around the tendons, but Iris remains quiet.

I’d be an idiot not to. This project is supposed to be my first big move as the future CEO, and I didn’t spend the last two years of my life working weeknights and weekends to squander it.

Iris’s nails dig into the fabric of my suit. I look up at the computer screen to find her face devoid of any kind of emotion, which is a warning sign.

Her anger is warranted but some things take precedence.

Opportunities aren’t a matter of luck, but rather hard work and sacrifices. A few more days on the clock won’t kill her. She will have plenty of chances to watch animals shit, fuck, and sleep, as long as we accomplish Yakura’s request first.

Yakura nods. “I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

The moment he hangs up, Iris rips her hand away from me.

Her eyes narrow. “You don’t want my hands anywhere near your neck right now.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re breaking a rule.”

Her brows pull together. “What?”

She laughs, in a deep and wheezy way that borders on obnoxious. “I find it fascinating how you can say that with a straight face given how you treat everyone.”

I shoot her a blank look. “I don’t treat you like everyone else.”

She knows more about me than my own brothers. For her to discount that…it raises my blood pressure.

The tense breath I was holding releases from my lungs. She finally gets it.

She continues, “There are moments you treat me great. I’d be stupid to deny that. But there are plenty of times when I feel like I don’t matter. That my needs are merely collateral damage in your pursuit of whatever you think will make you happy.”

I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she starts making sense. Instead, I keep my hands to myself as I nod. “I see.”

The victory I felt from Yakura’s meeting disappears at her expression. Something about it raises every alarm in my head.

She holds up a hand. “It’s fine. I’m going to take a walk.”

I’ll be damned if I let her walk out.

She raises her chin with defiance. “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

The back of my neck heats. “Then as your boss, I’m ordering you to get started on the updates Yakura wants. Time is of the essence.”

Her entire body tenses. “Of course. I’ll get right on that as soon as I submit my two weeks’ notice, asshole.”

Oh, fuck. She takes advantage of my stunned state and leaves the suite before I have a chance to stop her. The front door rattles as she

slams it behind her.

Good luck trying to undo this mess.

18

IRIS

Iwish I could say I’m some bad bitch that was willing to take a nice little jaunt around the safari lodge property. In all honesty, I had every intention of doing just that, especially after my fight with Declan.

But I’m not a bad bitch. Not in the slightest. All it took was some rustling leaves to have me hightailing my butt to our backyard and parking myself on a lounge chair. Instead of making my presence known to the big asshole inside, I kept the lights off. I could lie to myself and say I did it so I could see the stars better, but in reality, I wanted to be alone. He was so adamant about me not leaving to the point of being a complete dick, so I feel like it is only fair.

Well, you did tell your boss you’re quitting. That’s some bad bitch material that Cal would be proud of.

I groan. That was so stupid on my part. Instead of biting my tongue, I let my anger get the best of me. My phone buzzes for the fourth time since I walked out. Declan’s name flashes across the screen, and I sigh as I answer the call.

Be an adult.

So much for acting mature. But seriously, who is he to order me around like that? Has he learned nothing from what happened earlier?

His half-finished threat makes the back of my neck prickle.

What the hell?

I coo at him through the phone. “Technically it’s called a bush.

Not that you would know since you made me plan everything for a trip I can’t even enjoy.”

A soft laugh escapes me before I have a chance to kill it. “This is our exact problem.” I keep my voice low just in case he is looming too close to the glass doors surrounding our villa. “You continue to order me around like some disobedient housewife, and I continue to push back.”

Our call disconnects. The pace of my heart increases with each second that ticks by. My ability to hear is drowned out by the whooshing sound of blood in my ears.

The hairs on my arms rise at the sound of the sliding door opening. I refuse to look over my shoulder at Declan, so I keep my eyes glued to the starry sky despite the burning sensation spreading across my skin from his assessment.

Declan doesn’t move for a whole minute. I consider him to be an expert when it comes to torture, given the way he makes me wait on pins and needles while he says nothing. While I have always admired his ability to make people crack under pressure, today I find it unbearable. I almost give in to the temptation to look over my shoulder and check on him, but I stay strong.

The wind conceals my sigh of relief as the sliding door glides shut again. Declan’s shoes clap against the wood deck, the thudding matching the staccato of my heart. He lingers close by as if he wants to keep his distance.

I expect him to yell at me. Part of me thinks I deserve it after walking out on him in the middle of an argument. I know it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but I’m only human. While it takes a lot to make me explode, once I do, hell hath no fury like an assistant scorned.

The rebellious part of me stands by my decision, knowing something about him needs to give. I’m not a robot. I have feelings and dreams and a hope that I won’t spend the rest of my life assisting him to achieve his goals while putting mine on hold. And if he can’t see that, then maybe it’s time I move on from my position.

I might have tried and failed before when I applied for a job transfer, but that’s what life is all about.

My eyes slide from the stars to his face. I open my mouth to speak, but the words seem to get trapped in my throat. I’m not sure what to say. Declan isn’t the type of man who wants to talk. That alone puts me on edge, and I become unsure of myself.

He takes a seat on the chair parallel to mine. Unlike me, he doesn’t lean back, instead choosing to remain in an upright sitting position. The shadows cling to him like a cloak, concealing most of his face. I don’t need any light to know he is focused on me. My body does the job for me, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature outside.

I turn my face away, shielding him from seeing how my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

He must take my silence as quiet approval. “I made a mistake.”

I might need to take up learning sign language because I have officially lost the ability to speak. Declan doesn’t apologize, and he sure as hell doesn’t admit when he is wrong. That should serve as my first warning that something is off between us.

Who knew one statement could do a whole lot of damage to my heart? It beats harder as if it wants to respond for me. “I can’t do this

anymore.”

He sighs. “I know.”

I tilt my head. “I’m not happy.”

His reply doesn’t come instantly like the others. The silence eats away at my calm façade, and I find my fingers tapping against my thighs in a nervous pattern.

I deflect with humor, hoping to ease the tight ball forming in my chest. “Yeah. You’re right. It was a total dick move.”

The moonlight highlights his small smile, making the whites of his teeth stand out. “You have such a foul mouth.”

Oh. My. Lord. Either Declan is flirting with me or I was murdered by a wild animal and have officially ascended into heaven.

Or hell. Depends on how you look at it.

My toes curl inside of my boots before I have a chance to squash the warmth pooling in my belly.

What has gotten into you? Toes curling? Next thing you know, you’ll be swapping out your abstinence card for a healthy dose of Declan’s dick.

Stop thinking about his dick!

I clear my throat. “It’s fine. All is forgiven.” I’ll say just about anything to make him go away. There are far too many feelings happening inside of me to handle any more of this conversation.

Scary kinds of things that I refuse to explore while he assesses me for weaknesses.

He rubs the back of his neck.

Is he…nervous?

No. There is no possible way.

Right?

I’m so mystified at the idea of Declan being self-conscious, I completely miss whatever he says. “What?”

I nearly throw my back out from sitting up in my chair. “Why would you do that?”

Don’t you dare ask.

My lips part.

No.

But, I counter.

Who cares why he did it? Asking him about it is a terrible idea. It almost seems forbidden in a way, which I know is ridiculous.

I ignore the strong voice in my head cautioning me away. “What things?”

He deflects. “Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

I release a heavy sigh. “I was angry.”

I shoot him a withering glare. “What do you want me to say? I’ve been working for you for three years already and what do I have to show for it? I have no life, no friends other than Cal, and no future besides helping you accomplish yours. I married you despite all the red flags, and I’m supposed to give birth to a child knowing full well you want nothing to do with them. Of course I’m not happy. In fact, I’m terrified.”

That last part hurts to admit.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

I thought I would feel better after pouring my heart out, but rather, I feel sick to my stomach. Declan is far from perfect in many ways, but that doesn’t make him a bad person. He doesn’t yell at me or call me names or make me feel uncomfortable. His pay is double the usual salary, and I’ve been able to save a nice nest egg because of that.

Is he the easiest boss in the world? Absolutely not. He expects just as much from me as he does of himself. His standards are as

exacting as his attitude, but that doesn’t mean he is unfair. If anything, he pushes me to do better.

And you just admitted how much you resent it all.

My stomach churns. “About what I said—”

I think being struck by a lightning bolt would have been less shocking than his question. Not once has Declan ever inquired about such a thing, and I’m not entirely sure how to go about answering it.

Lots of things could make me happy, but there are very few within his immediate control.

I take a deep breath. “First off, I want to be treated like a human being with wants, needs, and feelings.”

I glare in his general direction. “I’m serious. That means you respect my time, energy, and willingness to go above and beyond to make our fake marriage work. You need to remember that this isn’t for me. You are the one who screwed up a perfectly good wedding contract with Bethany, and I’m the next best thing. I can be your asset or your enemy. It’s up to you to decide.”

My eyes narrow into tiny slits. “Yes, actually. There is one more thing. Stop calling Dreamland Tokyo your project. We both have spent two years working on that proposal together, and I lost about ten friends and a boyfriend in the process, so whether you like it or not, we’re a team. I’d like to be treated as such from this moment on.”

He rubs his stubbled chin. “That’s a valid point.”

I’m not sure whether Declan is appeasing me because he doesn’t want to continue pissing me off or because he actually cares about how I feel. I’d like to assume it’s the latter reason, but knowing him,

he doesn’t want to ruin his one shot of becoming CEO. And by making me unhappy, he risks a lot more than losing an assistant.

I look over my shoulder. “For?”

I grin. “Be ready by 5 a.m.” I walk across the deck and pull on the handle of the sliding door.

This time, I turn around and press my back against the glass.

I blink. Somehow I pull myself together and nod before leaving the deck.

Declan’s words follow me all the way back to my room, but it’s not until I shower and crawl into bed that I realize what struck me as odd about what he said.

If you try to leave me again, I’ll make you regret it.

Not quit but leave him. Such a strange choice of words for submitting a two weeks’ notice, but I believe Declan considers them one and the same. I think he would see me quitting as a slight against him. Maybe he would even go as far as to consider it some kind of betrayal after all these years.

He doesn’t need anyone. Cal’s voice plays on repeat in my head.

Except maybe me.

19

IRIS

Unlike yesterday, Declan is already waiting in the main living space for me at 5 a.m. Sharp.

I groan. “By two minutes.”

I blink at it. “Thank you?” I take a sip and sigh as the first dose of caffeine hits my throat.

He makes a noise with the back of his throat. “No need to thank me. Offering you caffeine is solely for my personal benefit. It tends to make you much more compliant.”

My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t bother answering me as he exits the bungalow.

He shoots me a withering glare.

Someone is in a foul mood this morning. One would think I’m taking him to the electric chair with the look on his face. We make our way over to the main lodge, with me sipping my coffee along the walk.

Declan seems determined to get to our destination as fast as possible, forcing me to match his speed.

I don’t have legs like a giraffe, so I slow to a normal walking pace before my legs give up from exertion. “What’s your hurry?”

Declan mutters something under his breath. I make a show of pulling out my phone and taking a few dark photos of some plants.

He hates every second of it. His boots drag across this dirt path, tracking dust behind him as he taps away at his phone.

Our eyes clash. Neither one of us looks away.

His comment makes me curl over and laugh until I wheeze. Most people find him dry, sarcastic, and downright unbearable to be around for long periods of time, but I find him funny. Sarcasm might be considered the lowest form of wit, but I find it the most entertaining. I’m not sure what that says about me though.

I stand and collect myself. “How about we call a truce?”

I nod. “Let’s spend a day pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. No work. No Yakura. No regrets. Give me one single day of your time without any of the other stuff bogging us down.”

Well, that isn’t exactly a no. “You get a happy wife who won’t suffocate you in your sleep tonight.”

My grin makes my cheeks ache. “Depends on what true crime episode I’m inspired by that night.”

He presses his lips together, stopping a grin from ever forming. I can imagine he has a beautiful smile, but I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen it. Not in all the years I’ve worked for him, despite all my best efforts.

And I swear Declan laughs on the inside.

By the time we make it to the truck area, I’ve drained the entire cup of coffee and feel much more like myself. The safari driver and guide both greet us. Neither of them complains about us being a whole ten minutes late, and I silently mouth told you so to Declan while they prep the truck.

The guide looks at me with raised brows. “I thought you knew.”

Well, I suppose I must have interpreted the website incorrectly. I look up at Declan and notice the vein above his right eye has appeared. Great.

He looks down at me. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like people today.”

A laugh explodes out of me. The driver and guide look somewhat horrified, so I calm their worries. “He’s kidding…”

The driver forces a chuckle while the guide looks uncomfortably at me. “We should get going then. The animals wait for no one.”

The driver hops in the front seat while the guide settles into the one hanging off the side of the vehicle. Declan gets on the special truck first. He extends his hand for me to grab, and I’m lifted onto

the tall platform with ease. His hand tightens around mine, sending a current of energy up my arm.

He releases it like it burned him.

The guide whistles before giving the driver a look.

He nods. “Of course. We do our best to find the leopards, but they’re cunning creatures.”

I nod. “Of course. No pressure.”

The guide turns toward Declan. “And you, sir? What animal would you like to see?”

He gestures toward me. “Whatever she wants.”

I try to coax an answer out of him. “Come on. I know it was a long time ago, but think back to your childhood. There had to be at least one animal you liked more than the rest.”

He shoots me a withering glare. “Elephants.”

His lips twitch. “What did you expect? A lion?”

His eyes shift toward the landscape. “My mom liked them.”

My chest tightens from his admission. The lost look in Declan’s eyes threatens my control over my tear ducts. Something about the way he speaks of his mother always seems to soften me toward him like magic.

I don’t think as I grab his balled-up fist and lace our fingers together. “She had good taste.”

A noise gets trapped in his throat before he places his other hand on top of mine, securing it to his thigh. My body vibrates like I

touched a live wire.

I look over at the guide. “All right, you heard the man. Let’s go find him some elephants.”

Declan and I have shared plenty of meals together over the years.

While most have been strictly business, there have been a select few where we didn’t have a set agenda to discuss. None of those even come close to sitting across from him now without any kind of distraction. No cellphones. No notes to take. Nothing but one another’s company to keep us occupied.

But unlike past dinners, today screams romance.

It’s a honeymoon. What did you expect?

Maybe something a little more discreet? When they mentioned a dinner under the stars in their brochure, I thought they meant a little sandwich and wine out of a canteen. What they really meant was a full-blown dining experience with white linens and top-shelf champagne.

And flowers. And a bonfire. And enough tension between Declan and me to suffocate anyone within a ten-foot radius.

Declan pulls my chair out before situating himself in the seat across from me. Candlelight dances across his face, bringing out the sharp dips and contours.

My heart beats harder against my chest from the way he looks at me. Our guide breaks the silence as he pops a bottle of chilled champagne for us. For a second, I consider the idea of asking him to join us with our driver, but he leaves before I have a chance.

I should have known while I studied Declan’s tells, he did the same. “I’m not nervous.”

I grin. “I heard that’s the first step in becoming an F1 WAG.”

No. Not cute! Declan and the word cute belong together as much as water and electricity. Both equally deadly.

I take another long sip of my drink. “Wife and girlfriend.”

He flicks my wedding rings. “This Alatorre crush is spiraling.”

He shrugs. “I sponsor a few kids.”

I shoot him a look. “Donating to charity as a tax write-off doesn’t count as a sponsor.”

The tic in his jaw makes an appearance. “Good thing I don’t include it in the paperwork then. Wouldn’t want my donation to be null and void.” The bitterness in his voice makes me flinch.

Wait. Is he actually a willing sponsor? How is that possible?

Declan has grumbled about every charity event we’ve attended over the years, and it took all my power to convince him to go every single time.

His hardened gaze switches from me to the stars above. A vein appears above his eye, and I’m hit with a wave of guilt so hard, breathing becomes difficult.

Shit. Here you are making assumptions about him when he is only trying to talk. I want to slap myself and go back in time if only to replace that look on his face.

He sighs, not breaking contact with the sky. “I don’t give you a reason to think otherwise. It’s not like I’m out here winning any Noble Peace Prizes.”

That he is not. He sure didn’t earn his reputation as a heartless businessman for nothing. People think the CEO has all the power, but the man behind the spreadsheets calls the shots. Because if it doesn’t make the Kanes any money, then it doesn’t serve a purpose, which means it’s cut from the program.

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.”

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.

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.”

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.”

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

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.

Huh. “Where were you?”

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.

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.”

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.

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

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.

Now you’re flirting with him?

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

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

Ugh. Why did you phrase it like that?

Because you’re too busy flirting to use your common sense.

Run while you still can.

I stop and look over my shoulder. “Why are you asking?”

You don’t have a plan.

Then I better think of one quick because the last thing I need is to spend more time with Declan. I’m already weak when it comes to him.

Fuck.

The glass door shakes with another rumble of thunder. I take it as my hint to get out of here before Declan asks me any more questions.

hours.” I send him one last smile over my shoulder before I exit the room.

The clapping of his leather shoes against the tile follows me all the way into the living room. I try to ignore him, but he makes it progressively difficult as he parks himself on the couch beside me, leaving only a cushion between us.

Oh my God. Does he actually want to spend time with you outside of staged events and social media propaganda?

That has to be the biggest backhanded compliment I’ve ever received, yet it makes me smile nonetheless. Declan has plenty of things to do. He could spend the day catching up on work that is piling up during our vacation, but he would rather watch TV with me.

A fluttering sensation in my stomach makes me antsy. I shouldn’t obsess over something as small as Declan sacrificing his work to spend time with me, but I do anyway. This is a man who will make business deals from his bed with a fever of a hundred and three.

Him taking a day off to do nothing but watch TV is huge.

Don’t get used to it.

Easier said than done. Because if Declan keeps doing sweet things like this, I might start craving them. And that can only lead to one thing.

Disappointment.

I turn on the smart TV, sign into my streaming service account, and choose my comfort home renovation show, hoping it can ease the anxiety bubbling inside of me. I tuck my legs under me and get comfortable. It doesn’t take long for the weight pressing against my chest to lessen, and I’m grateful for it.

By the time the credits roll, I expect Declan to rise up and dismiss himself from the rest of my plans. He remains seated as the next episode starts automatically.

He only replies by grabbing the remote from the coffee table and putting the volume louder.

Well, that answers everything.

He wants to spend time with you.

My skin tingles in response, and I can’t help hiding my smile with a throw pillow.

I swear Declan consumes more food than an entire football team.

If it weren’t for the fact that I manage his schedule so he can make time for working out, I would be concerned about the way he eats his way through my entire stash of snacks in less than four hours.

I hit the mute button, silencing the TV. “Do you have a problem with that?”

His brows pull together. “Don’t tell me you actually want to do this one day?”

I laugh and return my attention back to the screen. “Because it’s going to be my house. If I want a pet cat, so be it.”

Where did that question come from and why does his face look like I’m personally attacking him?

Is he actually offended by my comments? The idea alone makes my chest clench. Declan isn’t the kind to get offended by anything, but I suppose if I invested twenty million dollars into a home, I wouldn’t want to hear negative comments about it either.

I dance between being honest and polite. “It’s just that…it’s not my style.”

My chest shakes as I release a loud laugh. “No.”

It might be a house, but it’s the furthest thing from a home.”

He strokes his stubbled cheek. “That makes no sense.”

I take a deep breath, considering how I can explain such a dark part of my life without diving too deep into my emotions. Declan only knows bits and pieces of my past. Revealing too much could open myself up to growing closer to him, and that’s the last thing either of us needs.

Declan doesn’t so much as breathe as I gather up the courage to continue.

He was…mean.” That feels like the understatement of the century, but I can’t find it in me to say more than that.

Declan’s hands clench against his lap. “Was he mean to you?”

I sigh. “Yes. But not nearly as bad as he was to my mom.”

His upper lip curls with a look of disgust. “Don’t do that.”

My brows tug together. “Do what?”

I’m touched by his comment. I spent my whole life telling myself how things could have been worse. I’ve seen the stats on domestic violence. The way the vicious cycle continues until someone gets severely hurt, or worse, dies. Dealing with my father’s anger and hateful words seemed like a small price to pay for the future I have now. For the one my mother has too.

Wetness pools at the bottom of my eyes, and I’m quick to blink it away.

Get a hold of yourself.

I muster up a deep breath and carry on, reminding myself of the whole point of this conversation. “Anyway…my mom and I moved out of my childhood house with two suitcases and a thick wad of cash she spent a whole year saving up. She tried her hardest to sell me on the idea of moving into a shoebox apartment with Nana. I spent a whole week crying, telling her I wanted to go home.”

He frowns. “That sounds like the biggest bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

I laugh. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.” I have to give him credit for at least listening to my story.

I grin. “Like I said, you’ll know it when you feel it.”

At least I would hope so. The idea of Declan never finding a place to call home saddens me more than anything about his past.

What are you going to do about it?

I have an idea, but its risks are nothing short of catastrophic. Still, I can’t find it in me to stop the excitement bubbling inside of me.

You could be the one to help him make his house a home.

Worst idea ever.

21

IRIS

Wait. A blanket? I don’t remember falling asleep, let alone having the energy to grab a blanket.

Huh. Strange.

The only source of light we have is the moon shining through the windows. Declan weaves through the house before taking me toward his bedroom.

Despite the low light, I can make out the glare he sends my way over his shoulder.

Well, then. He doesn’t need to sound so against the idea.

I’m so focused on his story that I slip on a massive puddle. I slide straight into Declan’s back, and he lets out an oomph. He struggles to maintain his balance, but his quick reflexes save us both from taking a tumble, although my chest takes a beating after running into pure muscle.

He bolted from the shower for me? I don’t even know what to make of that knowledge except to concentrate on my breathing so I don’t pass out from pure shock.

He doesn’t give me a chance to harp on the details of him running out of the shower to come get me. His hand motions me forward, and I grab onto his extended palm. He helps me into the empty porcelain tub that is set up in front of a big window that faces a small river to the side of our bungalow.

I laugh. “It’s pitch black.”

He squints and points. “Right there. Between the two trees in front of the river.”

I try to see what he is looking at and fail. “Nope.”

He leans in closer so he can use my hand as an arrow. “Right there.”

Who would have thought we would find one outside our bungalow of all places? We’ve been on countless safaris and come up

empty every single time.

I don’t know how much time passes, but Declan and I sit together in an empty tub watching the leopard as it prowls around the area. It feels like hours pass us by as the moon slowly begins its descent.

His stiff arms eventually return the gesture, and I hold him even tighter against me. Neither one of us speaks. With the way my chest warms in his proximity, I’m tempted to stick around longer.

He clears his throat. “We should get to sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

My whole face feels like it could catch on fire. “Right. Of course.”

I disentangle myself from his grasp and jump out of the tub.

Declan stands and follows after me out of his bathroom. I’m careful not to slip on any more puddles, although it seems like enough time went by for them to evaporate.

He says nothing, but the satisfied look on his face speaks volumes. I escape his room and crawl into bed with the biggest smile on my face.

All thanks to Declan.

I drop my empty luggage by the foot of the bed so I can answer my ringing phone.

My knees shake, so I take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

My stomach drops. “Send them to me.”

She makes a noise. “I think it’s better if you don’t see them.”

Shit. Acid crawls up my throat as I ignore my mother and type my name into the search engine with shaky fingers. The results are horrifying. Each headline somehow seems worse than the last.

Buzzwords like fake marriage, baby clause, and gold digger. News articles I can handle, but it’s the comment sections that really sting.

After the first one claims I don’t deserve children because of the mockery I made out of marriage, I exit the internet application. If that’s the first one, I can’t imagine how awful the rest are.

My social media profiles are no better, with all of them being clogged with people sending me direct messages. Even a few direct threats.

My stomach churns. “None of this is true.”

Except, isn’t it?

I mute my phone and proceed to scream into the mattress.

Mom remains unaware of my breakdown. “Obviously not. I’ve seen the way you two interact. These soulless people are just looking to ruin anyone so they can sell a few copies.”

I have no idea what my mom thinks she saw but I refuse to argue with her. There are way bigger fish to fry.

Don’t worry, Mom. It hurts me just as much. The amount of women who wrote nasty comments on my social media posts is nothing compared to the ones who privately messaged me their thoughts. I set my accounts to private, but the stain of their words still lingers.

I’m so close to cracking with each shuddery breath I take.

Oh, Mom. If only you knew. “But—”

Me neither when I come to think of it. The timing is almost too perfect, with Declan and me being unable to do anything about it from here.

With each article I read, my anger intensifies. I know exactly who released these stories into the world, hoping for this kind of reaction.

Seth Kane is lucky I’m thousands of miles away from him or else I would give him a piece of my mind.

Or fist.

I don’t think anyone could read comments like that about themselves and not feel some kind of emotion toward it. But despite my feelings, I know who I am and what I stand for. Nothing anyone says will change my mind, but it doesn’t mean their words still can’t affect me.

Unlike Declan, I didn’t grow up in this kind of world. I’m not accustomed to having my image plastered all over every celebrity gossip site, picking at everything that makes me who I am. It makes me want to hide away from everyone and everything, but it also makes me want to fight.

I won’t allow logistics to kill my motivation. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

Mom’s words cause a lightbulb to shine above my head—as if it was blessed by God himself.

What if I create a story so enticing, they can’t help but want to change their view? I can control how people perceive us. It might take a bit of work on my end, but it has to be better than the alternative. Because if stories like this continue to pile up, Brady Kane’s lawyer will most likely start questioning the authenticity of everything.

No. There is no way I will allow that to happen. I didn’t go through all the trouble of marrying Declan so his father could ruin everything anyway. Seth Kane might have won this round, but he has a whole other thing coming if he thinks I’ll let a few news headlines hold me back. While his sons have to remain diplomatic around him for the sake of investors and board members, I have no issues getting dirty.

He put a target on his back, and I can’t wait to pull the trigger.

22

DECLAN

Disconnecting for the remainder of my honeymoon was a mistake. I have never spent an hour without checking my phone, let alone days.

This is what happens when you take a vacation.

During my time off the grid, someone leaked a story to the gossip magazines saying my marriage was staged. I don’t doubt my father was behind this kind of campaign, although it will be difficult to prove it.

I have to give him credit. He was thorough, making sure to include a set of fake documents detailing shit Iris and I never even discussed in our contract. It portrays me as the exact monster the world expects of me. Headlines about a speculated inheritance.

Interviews from soon-to-be ex-employees claiming my relationship with Iris came out of nowhere, all because of a clause from my grandfather about giving birth to an heir. There are even sonogram photos of a child who sure as shit isn’t mine.

I wouldn’t bat an eye at the headlines, but the way they talk about Iris… Now that is simply unacceptable.

You never cared about their opinions in the past…

That was before I had someone worth protecting from the scum of the earth. Iris isn’t naive. She knows how the media portrays me

and what might have happened if she married me. But this… Even I’m horrified at some of the comments.

I tuck my phone in my pocket before I smash it into a million pieces. “Call my lawyer when we land.”

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

I glare.

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

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.

Her heavy sigh battles to be heard over the engines starting up.

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?”

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.

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?”

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

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

Her eyes brighten, chipping away at the icy block of my heart.

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.

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.

A booming voice outside my office door, followed by Iris’s shrill laugh, has me moving to the door and turning the knob. I open it to find Iris and my father in the middle of a death stare contest.

He smirks at me. “Perfect timing. Tell your bitch to heel.”

I only manage a single step before Iris’s fist flies, slamming straight into my father’s jaw. Iris screams as her fist connects with his face. A chill runs down my spine, and I swallow back the acid crawling up my throat at Iris’s cry.

He tests his jaw, rubbing the spot she punched with his palm.

I see red as I lunge for my father, but my attention shifts when Iris lets out a whimper.

I don’t think as I jump into action. She hisses at me when I try to assess her hand, all while she swipes the tears off her face with her non-injured hand. Something definitely doesn’t look right with her pinkie, and she winces as I lightly run my finger over it.

I swear this man has a death wish.

Iris tries to step around me, but I block her path.

Her brows pull together as she shuts her mouth.

Bone crunches beneath my fist as I slam it straight into my father’s nose. A deep sense of satisfaction fills me as his head rears back, rolling with the momentum of my punch. Blood gushes down his face and drips onto the carpet.

I grin at the mess.

He tries to staunch the bleeding, but nothing seems to work.

Something dark takes over me. “Get out!” I roar as I lunge at him. My fingers grip onto air as he stumbles backward, tripping over his shoes as he holds his head back.

The pressure in my chest doesn’t lessen as he disappears through the double doors. Hopefully he returns to whatever corner of hell he crawled out of before I have a chance to get my hands on him again.

Iris huffs. “Well, that didn’t go exactly as expected.”

I turn around, finding her hand clutched to her chest. Her twisted expression has my blood rushing to my ears.

She scoffs. “No. I got a bit derailed, but rest assured, my other idea is fool-proof.”

She laughs before wincing at the hand pressed against her chest.

I’m hit with the urge to go find my father but hold back.

Her jaw locks together, and she looks down at her purple heels.

I lift her chin with my finger. “Tell me.”

She sighs, and it takes an exorbitant amount of effort not to shake the answers out of her.

Her head drops. “You’re not going to be happy.”

She looks back up at me. Her eyes have a sheen to them that has nothing to do with her injured hand. “He offered me money to…”

I’m already halfway out the door, body hot to the touch and my head empty of any thoughts besides finding my father and pummeling him into the ground.

I should have known he would try to pull off a stunt like this.

Part of me had stupidly hoped he would have some sense of decency left, but it seems he doesn’t have a moral bone left in his body. I underestimated just how far he would go to retain his position as CEO. Because without it, he would have nothing to live for. His kids hate him and his wife is dead. Losing his executive position would be the last blow in his miserable life.

Iris grips onto my arm and tugs me back. “Wait!”

You’re the one who brought her into this mess. What did you expect?

Blood heats beneath my skin. I try to shake her off, but her hold only grows more desperate.

I pause, seeing through the cloud of red haze blocking my decision-making. “What?”

Her misty eyes lock onto mine. “I’m in a lot of pain.”

Fuck. I release a ragged breath and shut my eyes. “Harrison will take you.”

My plan to send my father into a coma slips away as I shut my eyes and nod my head. “Fine. Let’s get you to a doctor.”

23

DECLAN

Since Iris is unable to hold a phone herself, I’m tasked with typing everything she dictates. I knew Iris handled a lot, but I didn’t fully realize the depth of her job until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she isn’t happy. The number of emails she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane. Or maybe I’m just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different emails with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as we near the hospital. Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, altering my entire schedule for the day.

The work doesn’t stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out.

Iris stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.

Her eyes shift toward the exit. “Will you help me please? I can’t write like this.” Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question, so I busy myself with my

phone.

Don’t be a dick. Just do what she says.

She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question.

The paperwork doesn’t take us as long as I anticipated, so Iris and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly. The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.

Her head swings toward the direction of my voice. “You do?”

I nod. “Haven’t been to one since I was younger.”

My chest heaves as I consider the potential consequence of admitting my reason. I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner. “We spent a lot of time in hospitals while my mom was sick. I grew to resent everything about them, even long after she passed.”

Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I’m grateful she understands me enough not to ask any follow-up questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal to the years I’ve spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.

She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. “Let’s just say my mom ended up in the ER a couple times for being clumsy.”

I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “And did you have issues with being clumsy?” If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.

She shakes her head rather aggressively. “No. No.”

My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. “If you were, you can tell me.” While I can’t promise I won’t do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot.

The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don’t shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.

Used her savings from my grandpa’s life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life.” A tear slips down her face, and I can’t stand the sight of it.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. “Did Nana’s plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?”

She forces out a laugh. “I think concrete shoes were more in style back then.”

I fake shudder. “Remind me to never make Nana angry.”

Iris doesn’t move at the sound of her name.

She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand. Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. “I’m here!”

The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay. Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.

The empty bed meant for Iris is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.

The nurse grimaces as her gaze flicks across my body. “This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doc like everyone else.”

Iris hops on the bed without any complaint, and I’m tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Iris’s vitals and asks some routine questions.

Iris answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn’t put anyone at ease, least of all her.

The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.

Money is no object.”

The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.

Iris laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.

She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all day. “Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn’t put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it.”

Doubtful, but I’m a glutton for giving her what she wants lately.

Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers.

She tries to scoot away, but there isn’t enough space.

She eyes the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.

She leans closer to me and whispers, “Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?”

My lips lift at the corners. I don’t know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of scary movies without so much as flinching. “You’re afraid of needles?”

She sputters. “No. I’m not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can’t control.”

I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.

Her eyes flit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.

She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. “Asshole! I believed you!”

Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.

Fuck this place and the people in here. “We’re leaving.”

Iris remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I’m the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn’t return to normal until the nurse brings her back.

That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I’m inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.

The doctor checks the scans. “It looks like you have a boxer’s fracture.”

Her face brightens. “That sounds badass.”

I glare at her. “Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn’t count today as a victory by any means.”

The doctor’s eyes lighten. “Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles.”

The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Iris a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I’m skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I’ll be damned if Iris sustains permanent injuries because of my father. My chest tightens at the idea.

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

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.”

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 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.”

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.”

Deep breaths, Declan. Deep fucking breaths.

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.”

24

IRIS

Declan has been abnormally quiet ever since our trip to the hospital yesterday. I try to pry him away from his foul mood with a few comments, but it only seems to make him frown like I’m some nuisance.

If possible, the next day back only gets progressively worse. I can’t type with my right hand, so I’m limited to pecking individual keys with my left index finger. I’m tempted to throw my keyboard at the wall after only half an hour of working on a spreadsheet. Instead of resorting to violence, because we all know how that went last time, I text my knight in shining Armani.

Cal strolls into the office thirty minutes later. “I always thought it would be Declan who showed Dad what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his parenting style, but it turns out you did the favor for him.”

My chest aches for the children who grew up with such a cruel father. If only I could go back in time and throw a real punch.

Cal’s gaze narrows. “Don’t look at me that way. I don’t have nearly as many daddy issues as the other two.”

He laughs as he pulls out the metal chair across from me. “I’ve been there. Done that. Turns out if you’re not interested in changing, they can’t help you much.”

I shake my head. “Imagine that.”

He grins. “So I heard you needed my services.”

I release a sigh. “I seriously owe you one. I can’t get much done with this brace when it takes me twenty minutes to type a single paragraph.”

Oh, he’s all man all right. I’ve seen the evidence in vivid detail.

Cal shudders at whatever expression is on my face. “Oh God.

Whatever put that look on your face needs to go. Now.”

Declan’s mood deteriorates throughout the day. I’m almost hesitant about introducing my plan, but after all the work I put into it, I can’t go back now.

He turns in his seat and stares at me. “What are you talking about?”

His lips curve downward. “With fake dating? What does that even mean when we are married?”

I ignore his mood. “I planned a few public outings to make sure we are seen by anyone who is anyone in Chicago.”

I release him instantly, afraid a torrent of butterflies might take flight in my stomach if I touch him for longer than a second. “I know you want to stay hidden away in your suburban mansion, but avoiding the press isn’t going to solve any of our problems.”

I’m surprised he can get any words out with the way his teeth grind together.

He remains silent, so I take it that he is willing to hear me out.

I grin. “Bribes work wonders. You taught me yourself.”

It feels good to return to our regularly scheduled programming.

With him ignoring me for days, I kind of missed our back and forth.

Even if it is only for a night.

He shrugs, and I roll my eyes.

I laugh as I clap my hands together, leaning more toward evil genius rather than angelic. “Our table happens to be right next to the Chicago Chronicle’s lead gossip columnist’s.”

His spine straightens. “Now I’m intrigued for a very different reason.”

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?”

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?”

He mutters something under his breath.

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

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.”

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.

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.”

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.

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

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

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.

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.

The way his eyes brighten has nothing to do with the candlelight.

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

For someone who sucks at using anything but grunts and orders to communicate, he sure knows how to make my insides melt from a single sentence.

Except it’s all a lie. “That’s…sweet.”

His lips press together in a thin line. I wonder if he does it to stop himself from laughing aloud.

His eyes speak of a hundred unspoken promises. There is no way he will go along with this plan, but it’s fun to pretend for the reporter’s sake.

I frown. “Why not? Rowan will be in town for a budget meeting, so it’s the perfect time for all of us to get together.”

He avoids my gaze as he assesses his menu. “That’s our thing.”

The way he says it makes my body buzz. “If you had it your way, everything would be our thing so that you never had to share me with anyone else, you territorial caveman.”

Through the corner of my eye, I catch the reporter smiling at us.

The reporter scoots her chair a few inches closer.

He raises a brow. The reporter nearly tumbles out of her chair from the way she leans forward to hear us.

I throw my hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, maybe two men.

Absolutely three tops!”

He sighs. “This list of F1 drivers seems to be growing by the week.”

My smile turns flirtatious. “You’re cute when you get all possessive.” I don’t mean it, yet his nostrils seem to flare regardless.

A blush spreads from my cheeks down my neck, unbeknownst to him. I expected Declan to entertain a fake date because his reputation needs it, but I didn’t think he would elicit all these reactions from me. My body doesn’t seem to understand his promises are nothing but fake. Hell, my brain is having a hard time making sense of the way his eyes seem to darken, the blacks of his pupils eating away at the dark brown irises.

I swallow the lump in my throat and pray I can make it through a few more of these. Deep down, I know it isn’t real, but my body seems to have a hard time understanding his words are nothing but empty promises.

I should have known going on a fake date would be a bad idea, but I don’t have many options. The only thing I can control is how much time I interact with him. Because if tonight is any hint at what the future might look like, I’m not sure I have the power to resist him. At least not when he talks and does things that make my heart race and my skin flush.

So what happens if our fake dating game turns into more? I’m too afraid to answer the question, although I think I have a good idea.

Sex. Love. And heartbreak.

25

DECLAN

Ithought Iris’s idea of going on a fake date was ridiculous until I actually sat down and realized I have her undivided attention for at least two hours. It reminds me of our honeymoon and the dinner we had together. Except this time, she is solely focused on putting on a show while I’m more interested in getting to know her. Not the person she is during work hours or the hidden glimpses I get when she lets her guard down, but the real her.

She rears back. “Like if I had a day off?”

This conversation is quickly taking a turn back to work, and for once, I have no interest in speaking to Iris about business.

She laughs. “Honestly, I have no clue. The things I used to do don’t really apply anymore.”

I’m pretty easy to entertain, so long as it isn’t anything that requires much thinking.”

She looks up at the ceiling. “Huh. Cal and I went to the movies a couple months ago.”

A pity. “What about a friend?”

Her laugh comes out sad. “I don’t have any more of those.”

She looks down at her plate. “Turns out people stop inviting you places when all you do is say no.”

She motions toward me.

The look on her face stops me from asking anything else. A strange feeling in my gut comes to life, and I can only label it as one thing.

Guilt. It’s my fault she has no friends. Well, none except for Cal and me, that is.

You’re the one who told her you don’t want to be her friend.

My stomach churns as I consider how I rejected her friendship.

With so few left, I’m sure she takes them very seriously.

That’s why she helped you in the first place. She really does consider you a friend.

Except I don’t want to be her friend. Not when she elicits all these feelings inside of me that are nothing close to platonic.

Who said you can’t be both?

I should have never ordered another drink after our empty plates were removed from in front of us. The amber liquid serves as a reminder of my moment of weakness. Iris was ready to go the moment the reporter paid her bill and left, but I was the one who wanted to stay.

The thought alone pains me more than I ever care to admit.

I take a sip of my drink, only allowing the smallest amount of liquid to slip past my lips. Iris seems somewhat perturbed at how I make an ounce of whiskey last longer than all her past relationships combined. I’m selfish for keeping her out this late on a weeknight, but I can’t help it. Watching her speak about topics besides work is fascinating.

She talks until she’s breathless, filling the silence I have grown accustomed to with her endless chatter. There isn’t a single subject she speaks about that isn’t filled with passion and intrigue.

A dilapidated house she saw while driving home that seemed perfect for a renovation. How much fun she has visiting her mother’s classroom. Her plan to attend Nana’s cornhole championship coming up next week at church.

I didn’t even know there was such a thing as cornhole championships, let alone that Nana was the reigning champ.

I’m thoroughly enjoying my time with Iris, to the point that I don’t want it to end.

She glares at my drink. “Your overpriced glass of whiskey.”

But would I have the same company? Probably not. The thought of drinking alone tonight seems unbearable. I’ve spent an entire lifetime by myself, and while it was never a problem before, it is slowly becoming intolerable.

She glances out the window. “Says the man who hasn’t even looked outside once.”

Her eyes find their way back to mine. I’m startled when she drops her head back as a laugh explodes out of her. It’s rough and raspy, drawing the attention of multiple patrons. Warmth rushes through me at the sound despite knowing her amusement is at my expense.

By the time she looks back at me, her eyes have a watery shine to them and she can’t seem to take enough deep breaths.

My hand tightens around the glass as I take another chug. “What the hell was that?”

She dabs at the corners of her eyes. “The reporter left. You don’t need to pretend anymore.”

Her deep sigh echoes the one building inside of me. “We have a deal.”

I don’t miss the way she says we, although I think she did.

The way she laughs makes me want to stifle it with my lips against hers. I settle on latching onto her hand, which sobers her enough to stop laughing at my expense.

She tries to rip her palm out of mine, but I hold on.

The muscles in my jaw ache from the way I grind my teeth together. “How so?”

Her eyes widen. “Oh my God. Are you actually suggesting that we hook up?”

I’ve always been a straight shooter—to a fault. “Yes.”

Her bitter laugh sends a wave of uneasiness through me. “Then I’m sure it will be extremely difficult for you to accept that my answer is no.”

Her words land their blow, and I’m struck speechless as I process her words. She stands and grabs her purse. The small smile she shoots my way feels all kinds of wrong. I don’t want her to leave.

That much I know is true, yet she doesn’t seem to acknowledge the silent plea in my eyes.

A tightness in my chest grows with every step she takes away from me. I hate the feeling sprouting inside of me like a weed, tangling around my heart like a vine, almost as much as I hate Iris walking away from me.

Tonight might not have gone like expected, but I am not the kind of man to admit defeat.

I plan. I act. I conquer.

Iris might have rejected my first offer, but I will rise to the challenge and prove just how good things can be between us if she were to give me a chance.

Our marriage might be fake, but these feelings burning inside me are anything but. It’s only a matter of time before I make her mine.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

The car isn’t even parked before Iris escapes the garage.

Harrison opens my door with his lips pressed together.

His head rears back like I have never spoken to him before. We might not be confidants, but he has been my driver since before I ever had a license. Of course I interact with him. He even has my personal number strictly for coordination purposes.

As opposed to what? A contractual agreement like yours?

He laughs. “She might say no if you asked her.”

My head tilts. “Why?”

He looks at me as if he’s questioning my IQ. “Because marriage is hard, and apparently I’m not the easiest person to get along with.

Plus, I snore.”

A laugh gets trapped in my throat. “Makes sense.” I turn toward the door, but Harrison’s words stop me.

I sigh and look over at him. “Only if you feel that it’s absolutely crucial.”

His eyes wrinkle at the corners as his lips turn up into a small smile. “You might have gone about all the steps in the wrong order, but that doesn’t mean you can’t restart from the beginning and try again.”

The back of my neck prickles like tiny needles driving into my skin. “You know.”

He gives his head a shake. “I’m not interested in selling your story. If I was, I would have taken the money your father offered me and retired with Gerty on a sandy beach in Mexico.”

My mask of indifference slips. “He wanted to pay you?”

He shuts the back door. “Also not the point.”

My body goes rigid underneath my suit. “Not possible.”

He releases a deep belly laugh.

He wipes his eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s comforting knowing that the smartest man I’ve ever met is an idiot like the rest of us when it comes to women.”

My brows tug together. “Do you even care about keeping your job anymore?”

I glare at him, which only makes him smile.

He pauses. “Yes, Mr. Kane?”

I must be having some kind of mental crisis because nothing else explains what I do next.

He laughs in a way that makes me feel like I’m missing the second half of a joke. “Mrs. Kane can say what she wants, but she’s interested in you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

He taps his thick-rimmed specks. “The bifocals don’t lie.”

His frail lips break out into a genuine smile. “You chase.”

Harrison’s words linger at the forefront of my mind as I walk up to my bedroom. I have spent my entire life chasing after anything I want, so while the concept isn’t anything ground-breaking, my desire to do so with Iris is new.

Bullshit. You’ve always been interested in her.

Except my thoughts never went past just that. Interest. Pursuing Iris was never an option before, but there is no way I can continue on the same trajectory. I will drive myself mad fighting the urges threatening to consume me whenever she enters the room. Lately, I seem to be driven by the burning sensation in my gut.

I rip off my tie and dump it on my dresser before making quick work of my button-down. I chuck it in a corner of my bathroom, along with my pants.

I hoped a shower would calm me down, but I was wrong.

My mind wanders, making up an entirely different scenario of what could have happened after our date if Iris was willing to take me up on my offer. To me cornering her and kissing her until she loses the ability to do anything but drag me toward my room.

I try to avoid touching myself. My hand is nothing but a temporary fix for a lifelong problem. One that has plagued me for years, never quite scratching the itch I crave.

My cock lengthens as I imagine Iris exploring all of me with her hands. Of how she would be greedy with my body, raking her nails across my flesh.

I grab my hardened cock with my right hand. I promise myself this is the last time I’ll use my hand, but I know it’s a lie. A hiss escapes me as I pump it once before rubbing the bead of arousal at the tip. My mind conjures up a series of sounds Iris might make when my hands grip her hips. A moan when my tongue strokes against hers. The sharp hiss as I scrape the hollow of her neck with my teeth. Her breathy groan when my fingers embed themselves into her ass like I could brand her skin with the marks of my fingertips.

My hand grips my cock like a vise, each angry tug sending a shot of heat down my spine. It’s easy to fantasize about what could happen between us if I push her to accept her new reality. How Iris would beg me to take her right then and there like a mindless animal.

I picture her touch turning desperate as I memorize her body with my lips. Of her returning the favor, learning every dip and curve of me with the tip of her tongue. My arousal leaks from the tip

as I consider her nails digging into my skin with each thrust of my cock. I’d wear her tiny half-moon marks like a proud battle scar, knowing what I did to earn them.

Heat spreads through my veins that has nothing to do with the hot water streaming down my body. I slap my other palm against the tile, trying to support my weight as my legs tremble. The burning sensation becomes unbearable as my yanks become sloppier.

The bedroom fantasy shifts to her catching me in the shower, touching myself like this. Her hand would replace mine as she looks up at me with her big brown eyes. The way she might hesitate as she grips me, learning how to please me the way I like.

Only a taste, she would whisper before getting down on her knees and taking me in her mouth.

It wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge. A few slow licks up my shaft. The hollowing of her cheeks as she sucks on my cock until she chokes. Her moan as I grip onto the back of her head and shove myself down her throat, making her scratch at my thighs for reprieve.

The illusion is shattered as my release hits me. Spots darken my vision, and hot cum shoots out. It splashes against the tile before being washed down the drain. I jerk my cock, taking my anger out on the softening shaft.

My breathing is ragged by the time I’m done. I lay my head against the tile and curse to myself, knowing damn well I will never be satisfied until Iris is mine.

Not even close.

26

IRIS

It takes three days for the reporter to publish a story about us. I had hoped the results would be promising, but she exceeded my wildest expectations.

He grabs it and reads over the article outlining how an insider learned about a hidden side of Declan Kane. Turns out, the coldest man in Chicago happens to have a soft spot for one person in the whole world.

Me.

The way the reporter describes our relationship is something out of a movie. Whispered secrets by the candlelight. Stolen glances when one of us was looking the other way. A kiss under the stars, with both of us completely oblivious to the world around us.

He frowns. “That never happened.”

His eyes widen. “A million? It was published an hour ago.”

I grin as I drop into the chair across from him. “I told you it would work.”

I deflect with humor. “Liar. You totally did.”

I roll my eyes. “For now.”

Somehow, one word seems to cause a rush of warmth from my head to my toes.

Danger. Red alert. DEFCON five activated.

So I do what I always do when Declan stirs up feelings inside of my chest that have no business being there.

I escape.

Turns out I can only avoid Declan for so long when we live in the same house. It doesn’t take him long to find me, struggling to drain a pot of boiling water with only one hand.

I’m not given a chance to explain as he swoops in and grabs the pot from me.

He glares. “If you wanted my attention, this isn’t the way to get it.”

My mouth drops open. “I am not trying to get your attention.”

On the contrary, I was trying to avoid it at all costs—third-degree burns be damned.

Why is it when I’m the one who doesn’t want to talk, he can’t seem to help himself? The injustice of this all is not lost on me.

He places the empty pot back on the stove. “I can assure you boiling pasta isn’t cooking.”

You’re just mad because you like having him around.

He lingers like a shadow as I scoop a large helping of noodles onto my plate.

I bristle. “I don’t need your help.”

He laughs, and it feels like the clouds parted and heaven graced us with a miracle.

Oh, Iris. This is how it all starts.

I recognize the warmth seeping through my chest as he smiles at me.

I hate it. I love it. And I can’t seem to stop myself from craving more of it.

He smiles. “I actually came down to eat.”

Shit. If I leave, it makes me seem unequipped to handle him for long spans of time without adult supervision.

Probably because it’s true. It’s one thing to spend time around him in an office; it’s a whole other thing to interact with him in the confines of our home.

I shake my head. “Oh no. I had plans to eat upstairs anyway.”

His eyes drop to the napkin and shiny cutlery I set down. When he looks back up, his eyes seem to brighten. “Do I make you nervous?”

His grin widens.

No wonder the man doesn’t smile often. The world wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he were to use them more frequently.

He opens a cabinet and grabs an empty plate before loading it with a healthy amount of noodles. “If it makes you feel better, we could talk about work.”

My horrified expression can’t be masked. “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

The skin around his eyes tightens. “I concede. No talking about work.”

He situates himself beside the placemat I put out for myself.

His eyes reflect his amusement as he lets me stammer through the silence.

I shoot him a glare as I lift my fork. “Touch my leg again and I’ll be forced to take physical action.”

His head drops back. Declan’s laugh is a weapon of mass seduction, and I’m its biggest target. It’s rough and unpracticed, and it makes a tingle shoot down my spine.

I melt into the stool, allowing the sound to wash over me like a warm summer day. A sense of pride hits me at making someone like him laugh like this in the first place, given just how much he resists it. It feels like my own kind of superpower and a secret I plan on protecting.

Declan sobers, snapping back into reality as he takes a bite of his dinner.

I laugh. “I’ve never been much of a cook. By the time I get home usually, I’m lucky if I’m motivated to boil some water.”

My mouth drops open. Is this conversation even really happening?

His brows pull together. “What?”

I nudge him with my elbow. “But I’ll still take you up on dinner tomorrow. I don’t think I could stomach another night of pasta anyway.”

His gaze holds mine hostage. “What word would you use then?”

I shake my head. “I’ll pass.”

I really shouldn’t, but curiosity wins out. “Fine. What word?”

There’s something about the way he looks at me when he says it that makes butterflies take flight in my stomach. “Yuánfèn.”

I blink. “I’m sorry. Was that even English?” I’m already at a severe disadvantage when it comes to the language I speak every day, let alone foreign ones.

He seems privy to some joke with himself. “No.”

I pull out my phone and try to search the word based on my spelling, but I must be butchering it big time.

He says it again—this time with a phonetic breakdown of consonants and vowels—which should be easy enough for anyone but me to spell out. My fingers hover over the keys, and I try my hardest to spell the word he said, but the only thing that comes up is you ahn phan.

I want to throw my phone at the nearest wall. Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away. Showing weakness in front of Declan is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I refuse to do it.

His joke lands on deaf ears. I’m too far gone to do anything but walk away before I admit something I’m not ready to share.

I can’t look him in the eyes as I respond, “Nothing. I’m just tired.” I tug my arm out of his grasp, and this time, he lets me make a smooth getaway.

I take the stairs two at a time, all while Declan’s eyes burn a hole through my back. It’s not until I’m in the comfort of my room that I let it all out. I grab a pillow, shove my face in it, and let the tears fall.

I cry for the girl who was bullied all throughout her schooling.

The one who became a running joke in class and was called every awful name in the book. Tears fall for the version of me that was ridiculed by her father until her mother had to intervene, only to see her get destroyed by his equally vicious words. The same person who made a working woman out of herself despite all the people who told her she would go nowhere in life because she couldn’t even read.

I spent most of my life trying to prove people wrong. It took years of tutoring to get to the place I am now, and I won’t let one setback throw me off.

So what if I couldn’t spell a stupid foreign word? My disorder might be a part of me but it doesn’t define me. Not anymore at least.

My phone buzzes against my comforter. I unlock it to find a new message from Declan. The fact that he sent a one-word text doesn’t shock me given his preference for using five words or less in all our conversations. It’s the content that surprises me, and not because it takes me three tries to finally make out the word.

Declan: Yuánfèn.

I consider ignoring it, but curiosity wins as I pull up my search bar and type the word in the box with shaky fingers. The results are mind-blowing.

Yuánfèn: A predestined infinity.

Turns out Declan likes to casually switch to a foreign language whenever he wants to avoid saying how he really feels. Because

there is no way he would tell me to my face that he thinks I’m his destiny.

I think carefully about my next message. It takes me some time to find the perfect response for how I feel, and my search history is filled with variations of words that have no English translations. I copy and paste the word I found that describes exactly how I feel and press the send button.

Me: Kilig1.

I throw my phone across my bed and don’t touch it until the next morning. It’s not until I get dressed and put my makeup on that I have enough courage to open Declan’s message.

Declan: Merak2.

I copy and paste it straight into the search bar, only to drop my phone against the bathroom counter and shatter the screen.

A perfect symbol of how Declan is wrecking my plans, one by one.

Declan and I barely speak throughout the next day. I keep to my area and he keeps to his, with neither of us rehashing whatever the hell happened last night. I’m thankful that he doesn’t. Together we are dancing on a fine line, and neither one of us wants to take the plunge.

It’s complete mamihlapinatapai3 between us , with stolen glances across the conference table with no intention of seeking more. At least not for me. Although Declan sure is trying. His latest strategy to rope me in with foreign words that have no direct English translation seems to be working. Now I spend my breaks looking up

new words and adding them to a running list I have, just in case Declan tries to outdo me with one.

I never thought I could have this much fun with words, but Declan seems to be keeping me on my toes. He has already sent me two words today, neither one romantic like yesterday, but each make me laugh based on our context.

The first message nearly outed me for texting in the middle of his father’s biweekly board meeting presentation. I’m not sure what Declan was thinking by sending me a text of the word backpfeifengesicht4. I choked on my water as I searched the word and found out it means something along the lines of a face that badly needs a fist. I’m convinced there is no other word more fitting for Declan’s father, although I can’t pronounce anything beyond the first syllable.

It turns out Declan does have a funny side. He just happens to be so nerdy, I need Google to help me figure his jokes out. To be honest, it’s kind of fun. The words are so difficult to pronounce that I don’t even feel the need to stress over them. It’s the meaning behind them that matters.

If I continue down this path, I foresee myself slipping further into uncharted territory with Declan. So, while I can have fun, I need to keep my guard up, because a few funny messages don’t translate into anything more than what it is: two people who can never be more than friends, no matter what.

Shit. “No reason.” I tuck my phone away in a drawer.

You were smiling? Pull it together and stop rereading text messages like a lovesick teenager.

His withering glare reminds me of an angry golden retriever. “I find it interesting that my brother has been equally invested in his phone today. During a board meeting no less.”

Deny. Deny. Deny. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I wag my finger at him. “It’s rude to read other people’s messages.”

His comment draws a chuckle from me. “Your worries are misplaced.”

Declan gave me a chance to learn from my mistakes when other bosses fired me within a week for “careless” typos and an inability to work fast enough. He pushed me to try harder and think of the big picture, which helped me build enough confidence in myself.

Unbeknownst to him, he helped me grow into a woman who believed in herself, and for that, I owe him so much.

Cal sighs. “It’s okay to like him. I’m not telling you that you shouldn’t, but I want you to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

1  Noun, Tagalog: A feeling of exhilaration or elation caused by an exciting or romantic experience.

2  Verb, Greek: To do something with pleasure.

3  Noun, Yaghan: A look shared between two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin.

4  Noun, German: A face badly in need of a fist.

27

IRIS

Things between Declan and me seem to be escalating. It has been a week since I had the brace removed, and Declan has yet to pull back. With each day that passes, he seems to grow more insistent about spending time together. Whether it’s eating dinner with one another or him working on his tablet while I watch an episode of TV

in front of the fireplace before bed, I can’t seem to shake him.

I never thought he would want to willingly spend this much time with me. While it might not bother most people to grow close to their fake husbands, it feels like I’m losing focus. Like I’m forgetting the reasons I thought we would never make a good couple in the first place.

If I were being really honest with myself, my thoughts have slowly started drifting away from friendship and right toward a big red flag known as infatuation. I’m not talking about the physical kind either. More like the soul-deep attraction that tempts the broken part of me to open up fully to him, regardless of the consequences.

It is terrifying to think I might willingly let him come closer.

Not like you have a choice with this evening’s plan.

Even if I wanted to avoid him, tonight’s fake date would make it nearly impossible to do so.

I knock my fist against his door.

No one man should have the power to make my heart beat harder within my chest from a few words. I take a deep breath before walking into his domain. After days of limited contact, I feel starved for his attention.

Starved for his attention? Maybe you do have workplace Stockholm syndrome after all.

Our gazes collide, and neither one of us breaks away. His eyes drag from my face down my body before lingering on my lime green stilettos. The straps wrap up my legs, making me feel every bit like a Roman gladiator despite the dainty little bow at the end. His stare stirs something deep within me, making heat pool in my belly.

I lift my chin, preparing for a fight. “We have another fake date planned for tonight.”

Oh. My. God. You need to get out of here.

I let out an awkward laugh. “Anyway…your tux is dry-cleaned and ready for tonight. Be ready at 7 p.m. sharp.”

I turn toward the door but halt when he calls out after me.

My throat closes up as I rotate on my heels and look back at him.

I regain my composure. “The charity gala at The Walton Hotel.”

Poor man thinks I’m trying to seduce him. The thought makes me laugh to myself, which only makes his gaze darken as it drops to my lips.

My eyes roll. “Of course not.”

Oh God. Why did you say that?!

Deep down, I know if he gets near me, I won’t be able to control myself. His penetrating gaze incapacitates me, and I’m unable to take a single step toward the door as he rounds the corner of his desk. I stand like an innocent lamb awaiting slaughter as he eats up the distance between us.

Goosebumps spread across my skin. “I’m not open to negotiating.”

He shrugs as he says, “Strikhedonia1.”

He robs me of my reply as his lips slam against mine. My eyes remain open, shock making me unable to process everything happening all at once. Declan must sense my inability to connect because his teeth drag across my bottom lip in a silent command to pay attention. One of his hands wraps around the back of my neck, trapping me against him as he kisses me. My body shudders from a simple scrape of his teeth.

I shut my eyes and relish in the sensation of his lips against mine.

His fingers gripping onto my neck tighten ever so slightly as my lips part with a sigh. His access to my mouth isn’t taken for granted. He

explores like a man on a mission, using his tongue as a brand onto my very soul.

Everything about his kiss is selfish. The way his fingers embed themselves into my skin. The feel of his tongue against mine, stroking, testing, owning. The way he destroys any semblance of normalcy with a single thrust of his stiff cock against my stomach.

I think I’m dying.

I think I’m soaring.

I’m hit with wave after wave of emotions, with each pounding against me without any sort of reprieve. I don’t understand what’s happening.

Maybe you don’t want to.

I grow frustrated with my mixed emotions. My skin tingles and burns all at once, driven by some primal need to gain control. I thrust my hands into his hair and tug at the roots. He soaks it up like a man starved, and my lips stifle his moan.

He likes you touching him. His hands run down my curves before gripping onto my hips. He breaks our kiss, and I nearly groan with protest before his lips follow a path toward my throat. His tongue traces my fluttering pulse point before sucking on the skin. I buck under him, only to push myself further into his firm length.

Oh God. I realize that I must have said the words aloud because he laughs against my skin. The sound that got me into this mess makes something snap inside of me, and I all but shove him away.

Both of us are breathing hard, staring into one another’s eyes.

The way he looks at me…it makes me feel alive. Powerful.

Desired.

I can’t handle the weight of his gaze, so I scan the rest of him. Bad idea. The outline of his aroused cock pressing against his pants makes my mouth water. I’m hit with a sense of want that is so strong, it has my breath catching in the back of my throat.

Half of me wants to run while the other half wants to drop to my knees and get a better look. It’s the sane half that wins.

Go. Go. Go.

The temptation to kiss that stupid smirk off his face rides me hard enough to wake me up. I power walk my way toward his door without sparing him another glance.

Music blasts from my mini speaker as I sing my way through my makeup routine. While Declan hates galas, I love them because I don’t mind getting lost in the glitz and glam for a night. In the past, whenever he invited me as his guest so women wouldn’t approach him, I would spend the whole week finding the perfect outfit.

Tonight is no different. I take extra time applying my makeup and painting my nails. I somehow shimmy into my floor-length gown, being mindful of not catching my braids on the open zipper.

Despite my efforts, I can’t seem to reach the zipper. I’m shoved back into the memory of my wedding night. Except unlike before, I don’t mind asking Declan for a little help, so long as he is fully clothed.

A knock on my door saves me from having to travel far for his assistance.

I grab the knob and tug the door open. “Hey.”

Declan leans against the doorframe, his hair perfectly styled and his tux molded to his muscles as if it was sewn straight onto his body. The only thing unkempt about him is the way his bowtie lays undone against his shirt.

You had to go and marry one of the most handsome men in all of Chicago.

Screw Chicago. More like the most handsome man in all of the world.

I want to drown in his whiskey-colored eyes and never come up for air. There is something about the way he looks at me that seems to strip me bare, ridding myself of any sensible thoughts. Some men look like a dream. Others a nightmare. Declan happens to be a lethal

combination of the two—beautiful in a way that should terrify me.

Emphasis on the should because if anything, I yearn for more.

Especially after our kiss earlier.

My throat tightens with emotion. “Are we back to using English words to describe our feelings?”

His eyes glitter. “Only for tonight.”

I break eye contact first, unable to withstand his stare.

My cheeks heat as I think back to our wedding night. Somehow, I continue to land myself in this position without even trying.

He doesn’t move to help me, so I glance over my shoulder to see if he is still there. His eyes are transfixed on my back. They trace the length of my spine like invisible fingers before stopping at the dimples.

His eyes snap back to mine. “I got it.” He steps forward and reaches out his hand. Instead of grabbing onto the zipper at the bottom, his knuckles graze the base of my neck. A shiver racks my body as he drags his fist down my back. The way he draws out the simple task makes me regret ever asking him for help in the first place.

Why didn’t you choose a dress that doesn’t have a zipper?

I suck in a breath as the tips of his fingers hover over one of my dimples. My neck heats as Declan releases a heavy sigh, and the silky material of his tux brushing against my bare arms sends another current of energy through me.

What is going on?

The drag of the zipper fills the silence, and all too soon, his warmth pressing against my back disappears.

He readjusts my hair for me, and my heart gallops in response.

His brows pull together as I step forward and grab the ends of his bow tie. I pull on one side before passing the longer end into the neck loop. He releases a shuddery breath as my fingers brush his skin, and I look up to catch his gaze fixed on me. The way he looks at me feels…

Devastating.

I hurry through the rest of the steps before I do something crazy like pull his lips down to mine. “There.” I readjust the sides so the knot is centered.

I move to step away, but he grabs my hands and holds them hostage against his chest. “Thank you.”

My slow blink gives me a moment to process. “It’s just a bow tie.”

I laugh. “That was all you.”

His lips curve into a seductive smile that makes my knees tremble.

He reaches out and traces my cheek with his thumb, and my stomach does a betraying little flip that terrifies me.

No matter how tonight goes, one thing is clear: Declan isn’t going to back down. If anything, our kiss made him bolder. I’m not sure how I am going to survive tonight without doing something stupid.

God help me.

Declan and I make it to the gala without kissing, fighting, or talking.

It isn’t until he steps out of the car and holds out his arm for me to take that he finally speaks.

I clutch onto his hand and exit the car. “We haven’t even gone inside yet.”

He huffs. “You know how I feel about these things.”

His eyes seem to roam over me before landing back on my face.

I lean into his side as I laugh. He wraps his arm around my waist, and I look at him with wide eyes and a smile that has yet to fall. His lips part as if he is about to say something, but our moment is cut short by a flash of a camera bulb. Someone shouts Declan’s name. It sobers me enough to take in our surroundings and the different people mulling about the red carpet, interviewing each person who walks by.

I give him a reassuring pat on his chest. “Let’s get this over with.

The sooner we go inside, the sooner we get to leave.”

I laugh again, and his hand on my waist tightens.

Does he like my laugh? The idea seems comical given Declan’s preference for silence.

My theory is proven correct later on when I break out into another fit of laughter and Declan’s hand squeezes my hip in response. A rush of happiness hits me as I come to grips with my revelation.

Interesting. Very interesting.

1  Noun, Greek: A pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it.”

28

IRIS

It doesn’t take us long to spot Brady Kane’s lawyer. He would be hard to miss given his boisterous voice and equally loud embroidered tux.

Declan makes a move to walk over to his corner of the ballroom, but I tug him back.

The ice in Declan’s whiskey glass rattles as he takes a long sip.

I awkwardly laugh before taking a deep chug of my wine.

He grimaces.

He shoots me a glare. “You were there.”

I mean, come on, what did Times New Roman ever do to you?”

His scowl deepens. “It’s not my fault they can’t follow simple directions.”

He looks away with a huff.

I grin. “You know, as the future CEO, you will have to learn a couple things about leadership if you want to be successful.”

He drags his eyes back to mine. “If my alcoholic father can do it, I’m sure I can’t screw up too badly.”

I take a sip of my drink as I consider my next statement. “But don’t you want to be better than him?”

His jaw clenches. “Of course.”

His withering glare makes me laugh. The tightness around his eyes softens, all while his lips press together as if he wants to stop himself from matching the smile in his eyes.

He wants to smile because of you!

My brain might overload from all the sensations happening inside of me at the thought of Declan smiling because of my laugh.

Declan doesn’t bother trying to smile, and the brightness from before is replaced by cool indifference. “Leonid.”

The lawyer shudders, making his head of gray hair shake.

Leo turns his eyes toward me. “And is this the wife I’ve heard some whisperings about?”

One of Declan’s arms snakes around me before tugging me flush against him. “Iris, this is Leo. He was my grandfather’s best friend.”

Best friend? Why didn’t Declan mention that tiny detail during our thousands of exchanges about the man?

Probably because he doesn’t have best friends, so he doesn’t think it matters.

I refrain from sighing.

Leo holds out his hand for me to shake. I take it, and he pulls me out of Declan’s arms and right into his chest. “We will be having none of that. We’re practically family.”

Are we, really? Did I miss the part where this man never showed up to our wedding?

Leo must read my mind or at the very least the expression on my face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding. I was off the grid for a month while hiking Mount Everest, and by the time I came back, I heard you two had already tied the knot.”

If he seems wary of our marriage, he doesn’t show it.

Something flashes in Declan’s eyes, and it makes my chest ache. I reach for his hand to give it a squeeze. The move is instinctual, yet I still blink at our interlocked fingers with surprise.

Leo catches the whole thing with a smile. “But enough about me.

I want to hear all about you two.”

He wraps an arm around Declan’s shoulder and guides us to a table. “Nonsense. But first, we need a toast to celebrate your marriage. Is vodka good with everyone?”

Declan’s groan catches in the back of his throat, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes me.

Leo can’t stop smiling as his eyes bounce between the two of us.

My body shakes from quiet laughter, and Leo shoots me a look before he leaves us to go find a bottle of vodka.

I only nod, afraid my voice would betray how I really feel about his proximity.

He stands and shimmies off his jacket. “Here.”

He gestures for me to scoot forward. I comply, jaw gaping as he slides the material over my shoulders. It smells like him—clean with a hint of spice. Without looking too obvious, I take a second sniff, allowing the scent of him to filter through my lungs.

My cheeks heat as I catch his eyes zeroed in on me. The inner voice in my head chants to keep him away. That nothing good could come from me entertaining the budding attraction forming between us.

The inner voice wins, all but shoving his kind gesture out the window. “Who knew you would be good at all this?”

His eyes darken. “Not everything is a fucking act.”

I flinch at the bite in his voice.

Isn’t this what you wanted?

Sure, I do. Him being nice isn’t part of the protocol.

There is no protocol. That’s your issue.

Neither of us tries to fill the tense silence, and I can only pray Leo returns to us soon with enough vodka to make his Russian ancestors proud. Anything to save me from this achy feeling growing in my chest.

My prayers are answered as Leo slams the bottle of clear liquor on the tablecloth a few minutes later.

I nod and grab the full glass Leo holds out for me.

Leo slaps Declan’s shoulder as he places a glass in his hand. “If your grandfather were here, he would have probably had this whole speech written, so I’ll just have to improvise.” He lifts his own tumbler. “Marriage is like going on a road trip with the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, except you have no map or fancy GPS system to help you out. You might not always agree on what music to play or which direction you should go. I can guarantee there will be moments you want to rip your hair out—or each other’s. Just like there will be times that test you, where you think that maybe things would be easier if you hitch a ride with someone else. The point is, life is going to throw a lot of things at you. Stuff like flat tires, dead ends, and mechanical issues. But you can either make the most of the journey with one another or cry about never getting to your destination. No one can make the right decision but you.”

He calls that improvising? I’ve never heard anyone describe marriage in such a raw way like that before. Declan’s gaze clashes into mine, and I wonder if he feels the same. Because no matter what our intentions were when we signed the paperwork linking us as husband and wife, we agreed to a road trip together.

Leo taps his glass against ours. “To the newlyweds.” Declan and he both bring their tumblers to their lips, but I can’t do anything but blink at mine.

I don’t know if I will ever be ready for a marriage like Leo describes. Sure, I might be married to Declan to uphold a legal contract, but that isn’t the same as what Leo shared. His version requires a whole lot of trust and a lot less baggage than I could ever fit in an SUV.

I don’t need to ask Declan how he feels. His intentions are written clear as day across his face—a snapshot into his heart that I know he reveals only for me.

I’m not ready to commit to a road trip. At least not the one he clearly wants. If I did, I would have said yes to my ex when he proposed.

Declan isn’t him. Not even close.

My heart pounds within my chest, like a trapped bird trying to fight its way out of its cage. One thought batters me, over and over, as I sip my drink in silence.

I might have made the biggest mistake of my life by marrying Declan.

Fuck me.

29

DECLAN

Iris stands the moment Leo excuses himself.

She can’t even look me in the eyes as she replies, “Bathroom.”

I rise and grab her hand, forcing her to glance up at me. “Is everything okay?” I hate asking the question almost as much as I hate the haunted look in her eyes. Desperation claws its way up my throat, beckoning me to keep her at my side.

I nod.

I consider what might have spooked her, and I can only assume it has something to do with what Leo said. She seemed fine before he went off talking about marriage…

Did it make things too real for her? It’s plausible, given her aversion to love. She has made her feelings on the matter crystal clear, and I’ve gone along with it because it’s what she wanted. It’s not like it is any easier for me. After watching my father destroy his family after my mother died, I didn’t want to put myself in a similar

position. Everyone I love always leaves anyway. Why bother letting anyone close if there is no guarantee they will ever stay?

But are you going to spend the rest of your life alone because you’re too afraid to get close to someone? It’s still the same loneliness no matter how you paint it.

The back of my neck heats, and I turn to find Iris’s eyes focused on me. A few men stop and stare at her, and it takes everything in me to ignore them as I walk across the room.

Her question is cut off by me pulling her into my arms.

You’re a bastard for lying to her.

I’ll feel bad about it tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll take advantage.

She groans. “Why would you do that?”

She sighs as she wraps her arms around me. “Is there a specific reason you’re hugging me?”

Will you ever stop lying wherever she is concerned?

Only if I ever grow a conscience. Given the number of lies piling up around me, I doubt it would be during this lifetime.

Well, if I have an option…

You don’t.

I sigh as I reluctantly release her only to grab her hand. “Let’s dance.”

I shoot her a look. “It was one glass.”

She laughs. “That’s all it takes. You don’t even like to dance.”

I don’t release her hand as I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Keep making a show in front of everyone and I’ll make you regret it later.”

A shudder runs through her, and I trace the goosebumps on her arm with a single finger. “That’s promising.”

Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly as I lead her toward the dance floor. I wrap an arm around her waist, and she responds by locking her arms behind my neck. Our faces are only a few inches apart as we rock in circles to the soft music playing through the speakers.

She sucks in a breath, her eyes not leaving my lips. My fingers graze the soft curve of her ass. A groan gets trapped in my throat as she jolts forward to avoid my fingers, all to run right into my now hardening cock.

Her wide eyes blink up at me. “Please tell me that’s a phone in your front pocket.”

I throw my head back and laugh myself hoarse. By the time I come back for air, I find her eyes transfixed on me. Hers and a few others around us, all acting like they have never heard a grown man laugh before.

I lift my hand and cup her chin. “Maybe I finally have a reason to.”

Her face softens, and her body melts into mine. “Stop looking at me like that.”

She escapes my question and my grasp all at once. I let her get away with it, only because she presses her cheek against the front of my tux, bringing her body closer to mine.

When the slow song bleeds into a fast-paced one, Iris squeals. I move to escape the dance floor, but she tugs on my hand and drags me back.

She laughs as she begins jumping up and down like a madwoman. I’m nearly knocked unconscious when she throws up

her arms and sways her hips to the beat. I catch a few men staring at her rolling her body to the music, and my glare scares them off.

I can’t do anything but watch her. I’m entranced as she shimmies her body to the beat, keeping her lower half only an inch apart from mine. The way she dances isn’t meant to be erotic, but I find myself growing aroused.

She smiles up at me. “You’re not dancing.”

I’m not sure I’m even breathing.

She laughs as she wraps her arms around my neck and tugs me closer. “Move your hips to the music.”

I try and fail which makes her break out into another fit of laughter. If that’s the reward I get for looking like an idiot, so be it.

She turns around and places my palms back on her hips. “Copy me.”

Her rasp of a voice can barely be heard over the thud of my heart. I snap out of my trance and swivel my body like hers, matching her movement. Heat courses through my body as we both move to the music. Her ass grinds against my cock, and I groan into her ear.

My hands mourn the loss of her touch as she goes back to dancing. Her eyes shut, and she gets lost in the music. I don’t bother trying to dance. I’m far too immersed in the way she moves to care about anything else. Everyone around us moves to the beat of the song until the last note plays, and the crowd disperses, ending the moment all too soon.

Her lips gape. “You want to keep dancing?”

I clutch onto one of her hands while my other finds the small of her back. “Yes.”

Keep her wanting more.

Her sharp inhale makes me grin into her hair. My skin buzzes as she grips onto me and we find our rhythm, two bodies swaying to the music. The song changes and people pass us by, but neither of us dares to end the moment.

The only time we step away from the dance floor is to get more drinks and partake in the auction I have no interest participating in.

All it takes is Iris squealing at the prospect of a trip to Mexico for me to become an active bidder, with me raising my paddle to outspend everyone in the ballroom.

Iris wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek when the auctioneer announces our paddle number. I don’t have a chance to process her lips against my skin before she pulls away and settles back in her chair.

Fuck it. I become invigorated by the smiles she sends my way.

Some people try to outbid me for whatever catches Iris’s attention, but I outmatch them every time. By the time the auctioneer steps away from the podium, I’ve spent over fifty-million dollars solely for the rush I get whenever Iris smiles.

It doesn’t take much convincing on her end to drag me back onto the dance floor once the auction ends, although I make a pit stop at the bar to get me through it. We keep dancing until the final song plays and we are the last couple in the room. I regrettably let her go, only for her to limp a couple feet. She doesn’t protest as I wrap an arm around her and take the brunt of her weight.

I don’t think as I haul her over my shoulder, bringing her ass to my eye level. “Problem solved.”

Her head lifts as she assesses the empty ballroom. “Where did they all go?”

She gasps as she checks her phone. “It’s midnight!”

I smack her ass for that comment.

My hand burns to do it again if only to hear that little gasp she makes when my palm collides with her flesh. She returns the favor and smacks my ass hard. I almost drop her from the shock of it all, but I recover with a laugh.

I collect myself before walking through the lobby with Iris hauled over my shoulder. The bellhop gives us a look as he opens the door, and I tip my chin in his direction.

A random passerby takes a photo as they catcall, and Iris flips them off.

Harrison’s eyes widen as he opens the door of the car for me.

Iris waves. “All good. Although I can’t say the same about my husband once we get home.”

She rarely calls me her husband, but when she does, it sends a rush of warmth through my body.

Harrison laughs as Iris pinches my ass.

I unceremoniously dump her in the back seat before circling the car and dropping into mine. Harrison takes off down the road. Iris stares out the window, watching the Chicago skyline pass us by as we drive out to the suburbs.

I spend the entire car ride playing out different scenarios of exactly what might happen when we get home. By the time Harrison parks the car, I am buzzing with anticipation.

My thoughts are dashed as I turn to look over at Iris. Her body leans against the door, and her eyes remain shut as she breathes deeply in and out.

She fell asleep.

After all that talk on her end about getting payback, she couldn’t even stay up to seek retribution.

She doesn’t stir as I tug her into my arms, cradling her the same way I did on our wedding night. Somehow, she remains fast asleep as I walk us through the house and up the stairs. I struggle to open her door without dropping her, but I am able to configure myself in a way so I can turn the knob.

Her door hits the wall with a soft thud. I make my way toward her bed and place her on the mattress. She tucks her hand under her cheek and curls into herself, uncaring about her dress or makeup.

I hate the idea of waking her up, but I doubt she wants to go to bed dressed like that. It can’t be comfortable.

Her hand flies straight to my face. I release a whoosh of air as I duck, somehow missing her palm before it connected with my cheek.

She groans. “Shh, Declan. Stop talking and do that thing with your tongue again.”

My pulse thunders in my veins, matching the quickening of my heart rate. Is she…dreaming of me? I blink, trying to wrap my head around Iris having a dirty dream about me.

She lets out a soft whimper that I feel straight to my cock. I consider the consequences of waking her up and showing her what the real deal feels like, but I think better of it.

Start small and be strategic.

Making a move on her tonight would be anything but smart. No matter how much I want to, I need to go about this in a way that won’t spook her. Her previous failed relationships are proof of what happens when people come off too strong, too fast.

I didn’t spend this long chasing after her for me to squander it because I couldn’t control my dick. My patience will be rewarded soon. It is only a matter of time before she comes crawling to me, and I plan on making her work for it.

Starting tomorrow.

30

IRIS

The morning after the gala, I wake up in a designer gown, smudged makeup, and a serious case of how did I get here syndrome. I wiggle my sore feet, noting a few blisters that weren’t there yesterday.

I sigh as I grab my phone from my nightstand. “Shit!”

I nearly fall out of bed when I see the time. Curses fly out of my mouth at the unread text message Declan sent hours ago. I unlock my phone with a shaky finger, only to release a breath of relief at the text.

Declan: No work today.

No work today?! I read his message twice to make sure my brain isn’t acting up again and rearranging all the letters.

I clutch my phone to my chest and do a little twirl. The idea of having a Saturday all to myself makes me want to break out into a whole song and dance like a Dreamland princess. I swear I could touch the stars with how high I feel right now.

While I shower, I comb through the memories of last night. Leo and his toast. Declan and I dancing until midnight. Him carrying me around like a sack of potatoes because my feet hurt.

The last one makes me smile to myself like a complete loon.

Oh, Iris. What have you gotten yourself into?

I try to come up with answers as I make my way downstairs for breakfast, yet I can’t seem to find one. I’m not sure what is going on.

The marriage I signed up for is nothing compared to the reality.

Declan wasn’t supposed to be nice. He sure as hell wasn’t supposed to do all these different things that stir up a longing in my chest I’ve never felt before. Even during my most serious relationship, I didn’t feel anything close to the giddiness that overtakes me when Declan does something completely out of character.

I try to block out the thoughts by blasting music through my earbuds. It seems to work temporarily, and I dance my way into the kitchen while singing along at the top of my lungs.

What I find has me halting my steps. One of my earbuds pops out, the blaring music barely audible over the sound of Declan chopping vegetables.

Excitement is fast replaced by skittishness as Declan glances up at me with eyes full of heat. What did I do to earn that kind of look?

Chop. Chop. Chop. “Not exactly.”

I blink. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you planned a fake date?”

His lips twitch. “I did.”

I cock my air gun and pretend to take aim. “Who’s the target?”

His lips press together. “I’ll tell you after.”

All right… “And you telling me who we’re trying to impress could compromise that?”

His hand grasping the knife tightens. “I’m capable of planning a date.”

So, instead of pushing Declan for more info, I help him with breakfast. With the way he keeps touching me while moving around the kitchen, one would think we live in an apartment the size of a shoebox instead of a mansion. I try to ignore the way a thousand sparks shoot off my skin whenever his body brushes against mine.

Every time I sharply inhale, his lips seem to curve at the edges. I swear he does it all on purpose.

I can barely concentrate on cooking, which results in a half-burnt omelet. Sure, it might not look like the most appetizing meal, but it should get the job done. Calories are calories, am I right?

His nostrils flare.

Iris: 1. Declan: 0.

I smile as I take a step backward and hold out the spatula, expecting him to take it. The breath is knocked out of my lungs as he crowds me against the stove, clutching onto my hand holding the spatula.

He replies by nipping at the skin of my neck.

My next sentence comes out ragged. “What are you doing?”

My throat bobs. “You’re growing a bit too comfortable with that nickname for my liking.”

My cheeks burn, along with the area below my waist. He ignores my sudden shyness as he pours the mixture with his free hand, trapping me in place between both of his arms.

His hot breath hits my neck, eliciting goosebumps across my body.

The eggs sizzle, matching the way my insides feel as his chest brushes against my back. I never thought cooking could be considered an erotic experience—at least not until Declan. The man makes cooking eggs seem like a kind of foreplay.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “What’s next?”

He carries my hand gripping onto the spatula toward the hot stove. “You let the eggs cook.”

It’s a simple task, yet he holds my hand hostage as we gently push the eggs over and over until the top surface of the eggs has thickened. Each minute feels like an eternity with the way he holds onto me. He seems to be drawn toward the curve of my neck, and he kisses me twice before dictating the next set of directions.

His deep chuckle rattles my bones. “Greedy as always.”

That’s definitely not a phone in his pocket this time. I can tell that much.

Somehow the words make it past my tight throat.

His thick length presses against the seam of my ass, telling me exactly how he feels about cooking. He pulls away all too quickly, taking his warmth with him as he adds some space between us. I don’t understand his reaction.

Why do you care? It would only complicate things even more.

I care more than I would ever admit.

Because you want him too.

It is a tough fact to admit. I do want him. I want him really freaking badly, yet I don’t know how to go about pursuing something like that. And more specifically, I’m not sure exactly what it is that I want to pursue. Casual sex seems almost as complicated as proposing that we try something more. Either option would blow our whole plan to hell, and I’m not sure I want to do that either. My options seem as hopeless as my ability to hold off on our attraction.

If Declan is aware of my inner panic, he doesn’t reveal it.

I grip the counter and take a few deep breaths.

How the hell are you going to survive a fake date today when you feel like this?

Declan grabs a pair of keys hanging on the wall.

He spins the keys on his index finger. “I gave Harrison the day off.”

Declan doesn’t comment as he walks up to a shiny vintage convertible that looks like something out of a spy movie.

My mouth drops open. “This is our ride?”

I’m stupefied as he circles around the hood and opens the passenger door for me.

I sigh. “The things I would do to get a chance to drive this car.”

He laughs. It’s rough, deep, and steals all my capacity to breathe.

His previous smile is wiped clean off his face. “More like a woman’s. My mother’s to be specific.”

I feel like someone stuck me in the chest with a knife and twisted it. “Your mother’s?”

His Adam’s apple throbs. “I thought I’d take it out since I haven’t run it in a month.”

He takes it out every month? My chest aches for the man who keeps the memory of his mother alive through her car. I can tell Declan cares based on how much the car is taken care of, from the polished leather interior to the perfectly waxed exterior.

I can’t think of anything to say, my tongue thick with emotion.

The image Declan portrays to everyone is nothing compared to the one he hides from the world. While he isn’t anything close to perfect by any stretch of the word, he is still human. He hurts just like the rest of us.

We take off down the driveway before he stops to open the gate.

He rambles, and I smile because I have never seen him stumble on his words.

which if you knew them before she got sick—was a lot. Not sure what she saw in him, but I suppose he was different with all of us before she died.”

I don’t miss the way he talks about his parents before she got sick. As if her illness changed the dynamics of everyone’s lives, including Seth’s. My lips turn down, and I hate myself for the ounce of sympathy that bubbles to the surface of my heart for the man who is as vile and ruthless as they come. Somehow love seems to humanize the worst souls.

He sighs, and I just know deep down in my heart that he is about to turn me down. For some reason I can’t bear the thought, so I do something stupid. Something so incredibly stupid I’m sure I will regret it tomorrow. But I’m too enraptured by his story to care about what might happen.

The corners of his lips lift. “I’m open to negotiations.”

I’ll let him be the one to decide what he wants most and then see if I’m up for the challenge.

Another kiss? A real date? A blow job? The options are endless really. A warmth travels from my head to my toes at the thought of what he might choose.

If my life had a soundtrack, this is the moment the DJ scratches the record, making me feel like a total dud. The air escapes my lungs like a deflated balloon. What the hell kind of deal is that? And more specifically, how the hell did he find out?

I cross my arms and throw up a barrier. “Who told you?”

He shakes his head. “I found out on my own.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “You expect me to believe that?

Exactly how gullible do you think I am?”

His face softens. “My mom was the same way.”

He clutches onto the steering with white-knuckled fists. “Just because she struggled with reading doesn’t mean she hated it.”

I feel like a dick for assuming otherwise. To be fair, I’m struggling to keep up with all this information. There is no way I can process Declan knowing about my dyslexia and his mother struggling with the same disorder all in one conversation.

I clench my fists against my lap. “You don’t get to judge my choices.”

I stay silent.

I release a shaky breath. Declan doesn’t say please ever, so it makes me weak enough to open up about my past.

I stare out the window. “I spent my whole life feeling different than everyone else. First, it started with teasing and being made fun of. Little things like teachers calling me lazy or classmates gossiping about how I was stupid. I was held back a year, which led to more embarrassment because all my friends moved on to the next grade without me. Eventually kids got bolder. Their words became harsher and their actions meaner. It didn’t take long for someone like me to start believing those words, especially when your own father called you a disappointing idiot every day.” My voice cracks.

Declan reaches out and forces my fist open so he can lock our fingers together.

His hand gives me a reassuring squeeze.

That’s where my plant obsession started. Turns out I had a calling for bringing my mom’s dead plants back to life.”

The tension in my chest eases as I laugh. “It helped. One plant turned into two, and eventually I started building a whole collection.

My therapist called it a coping strategy.”

Our eyes connect, his filled with a lightness I wish would remain for long spans of time. “Once I got the emotional stuff down, I was much more open to tutoring. It took a while, but I finally started succeeding in school.”

My nose scrunches. “You went through assistants like one would go through underwear.”

I shake my head. “Whenever you fired someone, the remainder of us were forced to drop our names into a hat. I was lucky up until

that point, but then—”

I nod. “I showed up to your office on Monday knowing I wouldn’t make it to the end of the week. But then…”

Something snapped in me when you told me to not bother unpacking my stuff since I would be gone by the end of the week. It lit a fire under my ass. I was ready to do whatever it took to prove to myself once and for all that I could achieve anything I wanted, starting with my job.”

The steering wheel creaks under the pressure of his palms. “If I had known sooner, I would have held back on some of the things I told you—”

My laugh cuts him off. “Please. We both know you would have fired me if you realized my struggles.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not true.”

My chest feels as if he cut it open with his words alone. “Is that why you kept me all this time? Despite the errors and typos and slower turnaround times?” My voice sounds so small and unsure—a perfect match to how I feel with Declan stirring up all these emotions.

He draws a slow breath. “I kept you because you’re fantastic at your job. You always rose to whatever challenge I threw your way, whether it was a part of your job description or not. There wasn’t a single time I felt like your differences got in the way. If anything, I think it made you ten times better at your job because you thought

differently than me. Just look at the Yakura deal. He would have never accepted the proposal without your additions to my model.”

A swell of emotion lodges itself in my throat. “Oh.”

I never thought someone talking finance to me would be so heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

He gives my hand another squeeze as if to remind me of our connection. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep you by my side.”

I never thought someone like him could be capable of such sweet words. “Who knew you were such a nice guy underneath your grumpy exterior?”

Looks like the reporter was right. Declan does have a soft spot for me after all.

He shakes his head as if it can erase the tiny smile on his face.

I cross my arms. “Where did you learn all these words anyway?

There’s no way you know all these languages.”

He turns his head back toward the road. “It was a game my mom and I played together when I was a little kid.”

My throat gets scratchy at the thought. “How?”

His glare makes me laugh.

His eyes become distant. “It became our secret code. If I was feeling a certain way, she would ask me for my word.”

My bottom lip quivers. “What made you start using them again?”

He turns and looks at me. “Not what but who. We both struggle with words in our own ways. Me with expressing them, and you with reading them.” His explanation makes each word he shares feel even more meaningful.

The burning sensation in my chest intensifies, betraying just how much my heart wants to throw caution to the wind. It scares me more than I care to admit, so I stick to a safer question. “What made you choose non-translatable ones?”

There was no way they could say kyoikumama, let alone spell it.”

I laugh. “It got old fast. If everything goes my way, I plan on having enough kids to fill a whole house so they never have to grow up feeling the way I did.”

He shoves the gear stick a bit harder than necessary. “Kids?”

I feel shocked by his question. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

He pauses, clearly thinking of a response before shaking his head. “Nothing.”

Nothing? I want answers, but my fear of his response stops me from asking any questions. And with the way he shuts down, I know that I’m not going to get them today anyway.

Maybe it’s for the best.

1  Noun, Norwegian: That overwhelming gut-rush euphoria exclusive to the beginnings of falling in love.

31

IRIS

There is no way Declan’s target happened to go to the Chicago Botanic Garden on a Saturday. After our whole conversation in the car, I know he planned this for me. Not that he would ever admit it. So rather than call him out on it, I go along with the whole charade. I’m far too excited about visiting the garden to ruin it by calling Declan out on his lie.

The garden is my favorite place in the entire world—sorry, Dreamland. I have so many fond memories here, dating all the way back to my childhood. My mom, Nana, and I would come here together after my Saturday tutoring sessions. Mom and I would visit all the gardens while Nana would huff and puff about her busted knee, only to be easily swayed by the pretty flowers and champagne popsicles.

I laugh as Declan grabs a map from an information stand. He doesn’t ask for my help, and I don’t bother offering it. While I know every corner of this place, watching him assess the map like we are exploring uncharted territory is far too entertaining to pass up.

He locates our current position on the map. “Is there a certain strategy to all this?”

Declan shuts the map, pockets it, and grabs my hand. “We don’t.”

Sparks shoot up my arm from the contact. “So, what? We just act like a couple the entire time?”

I fake groan. “But this place is huge. It could take hours before we find them.”

I give him another opportunity to confess. “They must be pretty important if you’re going out of your way to subject yourself to walking around a garden for hours while holding my hand.”

I turn my head away so he doesn’t catch me smiling at his lie.

Declan wraps his arm around my waist as if we touch like this all the time. What happened to the man who struggled with touching me only two months ago? Because it seems like that version of Declan is long gone, with him using today’s fake date as an excuse to touch me however he wants.

I’m so lost in obsessing over his embrace that I almost miss my favorite part of this whole place.

Declan halts, and I stumble from the momentum.

He looks around, missing the greenhouse during his scan of the bushes behind us.

I point with my free hand at the glass structure.

I smile. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Instantly, we are hit with a gust of humid air. Fans spray a warm mist across all the plants, and we are caught in the crossfire.

A crease appears in between his eyebrows. “Why is it so muggy?”

It excites me to know more about a topic than Declan, and I relish in the fact that he doesn’t know everything after all. “Plants like these would never normally survive the seasons here. Without a greenhouse, they would most likely die, especially in Chicago.”

He follows me as I walk through the rows of short palm trees.

His glare makes me laugh to myself.

He nods.

I look up to find his eyes focused on me. The warmth reflecting in them encourages me to open up without worrying about the consequences. “I spent a long time underestimating myself, only to realize I needed to make it past the bad stuff and find the light.”

His lips press together in a poor attempt to hide his smile.

His chest heaves from a deep breath. “Would you like a greenhouse?”

My mouth opens before shutting again. “You’re offering to build me a greenhouse?”

The warm feeling from his smile follows me as we keep walking through the greenhouse. I take the time to explain all the different plants to Declan. For someone who always seems to be taking the lead, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered about following me.

As we step out of the greenhouse and blink up at the sun, Declan asks, “Where to next?”

I point toward the trail that will take us around the lake. “That way.”

Together, we walk hand in hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Declan asks me questions about different plants and I answer them, getting far too excited about topics like the difference between tropical and semi-tropical. He asks silly questions, half of which I’m sure are done purposefully to make me laugh.

Seriously, there is no way I willingly married someone who doesn’t know the difference between a succulent and a cactus. He seems confused about how all cacti are succulents but not all succulents are cacti, and I spend a good hour in the Arid Greenhouse with him, explaining everything I know about the different plants.

Not once does he seem bored despite my nonstop chatter.

Declan, a man who doesn’t speak for longer than five-minute spans of time, spoke to me for hours. The idea makes me far giddier than it should.

It’s not until the sun begins to set that Declan steers us toward the exit.

I lift our interlocked hands in the air to remind him of our duty.

His eyes lighten. “Why else would we come here?”

so you made up this whole elaborate story so I wouldn’t ask questions.”

The way he says “our child” sends a wave of something through me that I refuse to acknowledge. “Depends. If we’re going based on paternal history, they are screwed from the start.”

He reaches out and runs his thumb across my bottom lip.

I officially raise the white flag as I stand on the tips of my toes and kiss him.

32

IRIS

We sit in silence during the entire drive back to the house. I’m not sure what to say, and Declan looks about one comment away from fucking me in his mom’s car, so I stay quiet.

My heart rate reaches a critical level by the time he drives into the garage, and I’m out of breath as he pulls me out of the car and straight into the house.

He moves so fast. One moment I’m blinking up at him, the next I’m being pushed up against a wall. My spine tingles from the momentum.

My heart thuds against my chest, my pulse thundering with each beat. I lose all ability to speak. The way he stares at me, with his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with each ragged breath, makes me shiver.

He lets out a groan as he steps away.

I miss his warmth instantly. “Declan—” I reach out to touch him, but he grabs both my wrists and locks them above my head.

He traces the column of my neck with his free hand, and my whole body lights up like a firework. “I’m not scared to claim what’s mine.”

The uncertainty is driving me crazy, and it isn’t fair to him. He planned a date for me and pretended it was a fake one just so I would go. I don’t think anyone has done something so sweet for me ever.

I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and drag his lips toward mine. Compared to our first kiss, Declan lets me take the lead. It’s tentative at first. Nothing but a few soft presses of my lips against his, each becoming progressively more desperate on my end.

He doesn’t make a move to touch me, and my skin itches for connection. His silent challenge to prove how much I want him plays in the back of my mind as I trace his bottom lip with the edge of my tongue.

I never thought I would crave his touch as much as I do at this moment, and I find myself growing irritated with how much control he exudes over the situation.

That won’t do. The tips of my fingers tingle with the need to touch him everywhere. My hands grow bolder as I drag my fingers down his shirt, straight toward the bulge beneath his pants. He releases a shuddery breath as I trace the outline of his length. I use the opportunity to tease his tongue with mine, and the results are miraculous.

He groans as his palm finds the back of my neck, locking me in place as he ravishes my mouth. I rub the palm of my hand against his cock. His kissing grows more uncontrolled as I make quick work of undoing his belt and zipper. Our tongues tangle together, stifling his moan as I slip a hand inside his pants. He sucks in a breath as I trace the tip of his cock. I swipe at the bead of arousal with my thumb before rubbing it in circles across his head.

He bites down on my bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste in my mouth.

I giggle to myself as I withdraw my hand and pull back. “How was that for proof?”

The hand around the back of my neck tightens, and his thumb presses against my thundering pulse point. His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. Goosebumps spread across my skin as he opens his blown-out eyes and turns them on me.

My lips part. “You’re so full of—”

I’m cut off as he hauls me over his shoulder, stealing me before I ever have a chance to run.

He turns toward the stairs. “I want to conduct a more thorough observation.”

I laugh as he carries me up the million steps. “You know I can walk right?”

I laugh. “Why not?”

My eyes widen. “That is absolutely terrifying.”

Our child. Those two words seem to have my heart in a chokehold today.

The idea of him considering fatherhood doesn’t scare me as much as it should. I knew what I was getting into when I signed the

deal, but it seems like such a contrast compared to the man who needed to be manipulated into shared custody rights.

Oh, Iris. What are you going to do now?

Declan seems to answer for me as he passes by my room without stopping. I cling to his shirt with sweaty palms, desperate for something to ground me as we enter his room.

My world turns right side up as he throws me onto the bed. I let out an oomph as my back slams into the mattress, and all the air is knocked out of me for a completely different reason than being flung. Declan’s hands grip onto my thighs as he drags me toward the edge of the bed. The material of my dress slides up, and the hem skates dangerously close to my underwear.

He stops and stares at me in a way that makes me feel like he is picking me apart, piece by piece. “Let’s play a game.”

His lips twitch as he slides his palms up my thighs. They tremble beneath his touch, and I press them together to hide their shakiness.

I rise up on my elbows. “What are the rules?”

His eyes bleed to black. “There is only one.”

He tsks as he drags my dress hem a little higher. My breathing comes out harsher, and that seems to only encourage him.

I shoot him a glare. “If you expect me to beg for your cock, you have another thing coming.”

One side of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “Who said anything about my cock?”

Declan’s fingers grab onto the edges of my thong and drag it downward. He takes his time, turning the removal of my clothing into an event. I can barely take his drawn-out touches and the burning glances.

He tugs my dress up higher and parts my thighs. “I’m sure I can change your mind soon enough.”

Any reply I might have made is stolen as he presses his palm against my chest and shoves me backward. He drops to his knees and drags me toward his face.

Oh God. A sight like that could bring a woman to the brink of orgasm alone. With the way my lower half throbs, it wouldn’t take much to pull me over the edge. Especially not with the way he stares at me. It scares me as much as it enthralls me, and I dance between the two as his fingers part me for him. My entire body buzzes as his tongue darts out, teasing me. I arch my back in response, and my thighs squeeze his head between them. His chuckle makes my clit vibrate. My fingers grip onto the comforter as he destroys my ability to think of anything but his tongue diving into me.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life. Everything about him is sensual, from the way his nails dig into my thighs as he teases me to the way he groans against me when I sigh. All is lost the moment he slips a finger inside me. His lips wrap around my clit, sucking to the point of pain. He stops every single time I near my peak. I curse him in the same sentence I praise him, and that only seems to make him draw everything out.

No man has ever made me feel devoured like this. I want him to make me stop hurting as much as I want him to never stop fucking me.

I nearly crack and beg for him to finish what he started but I hold out. If he expects me to break, he has another thing coming. I’ll make him work just as hard to prove a point.

I won’t yield for him. Not in a boardroom and not in the bedroom.

Declan rises to my challenge with vigor. My sensitive clit aches, begging for mercy Declan won’t give. I’m a mess as I thrash against the sheets. Declan cracks the code of my body like a nuclear bomb, and one word earns me the keys to paradise.

His chuckle sends another wave of arousal through me. “You put up a good fight. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

I moan as he slips a second finger inside, crooking the two so they glide against my G-spot. The way he sucks on my clit combined with the torture of his fingers shoves me off the edge.

My body shudders as Declan continues fucking me with his tongue. He plays my body like his favorite instrument, drawing out my orgasm for as long as possible. I expect him to stop as I come down, but his movement only grows more desperate.

My voice is hoarse as I scream out his name, and that seems to drive him wild. His fingers grip onto my ass as he pulls me forward, driving his tongue into me like I wish his cock would. I clutch onto his hair and tug at the strands. He groans, pressing his thumb against my swollen clit. The way he circles the flesh has me climbing until I chase my second orgasm like a shooting star.

Declan abandons my clit and pulls me into his embrace. He sucks up my cries as his mouth latches onto mine, drawing another shaky breath from me. My lips part and he brushes his tongue against mine, making me taste just how much I want him. His fingers grip onto the back of my neck, and his thumb strokes my rapid pulse point.

His kiss becomes less frantic as I come down from my high. He switches from punishing to apologetic, with the slight trace of his tongue across my bottom lip becoming my undoing.

I feel light-headed, like a high I have yet to come down from.

He gives my pussy a slap. “What did you say?”

I gasp. “I’m kidding!”

His lips press against mine. “That’s narcissistic of you.”

I grin. “It must be contagious around here.”

He kisses me until I’m completely boneless, waiting for the next step.

What is the next step?

He grabs my palm and presses against his jeans, right over his rock-solid cock. His lips trail a line of kisses down my throat.

I rub his erection with my hand before retreating. “So what? We have sex?”

He nips at the sensitive skin at the hollow of my neck. “Not everything needs a plan.”

He drags his hand up my body and caresses the edge of my breast. “Do you want this or not?”

It feels as if he placed a loaded gun in my hand. “This will complicate things.”

He grins in a way that makes his whole face light up. I commit his look to memory so I can obsess about it later. His body presses me into the mattress as he leans forward. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him until I can’t take it anymore. Until I’m dizzy and desperate for more.

My hands shove at his chest. He takes his weight off me and stands.

I cut him off as I stand and grab the hem of his shirt. “Off,” I order.

He complies with my command, revealing a chest of pale, muscular flesh. I sigh at the sight. His body deserves to be a national

monument. If I didn’t suffer from an insane amount of jealousy, I would nominate him myself.

I smirk. “Depends. Is it all for show or do you have the stamina to back it all up?”

He shoots me a lopsided grin I feel straight to my heart. “I swear you like stirring me up.”

He shudders as my hands reach to remove his belt. I slide down onto my knees, and a hiss escapes him.

The outline of his cock makes my mouth water. I become crazed as I tug his briefs down his legs, not stopping until his cock bobs in front of me. A bead of arousal leaks from the tip. I’ve lost all sense of self as I lick him from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip, tracing my tongue over the pearly white drop.

Rather than grip my head, he clutches onto my chin and forces me to look up at him. “This is better than anything I could have imagined.”

My cheeks burn. “Think of me often?”

I’ll show him regrettably. I grab one of the bows holding up my dress and tug on the string. Our eyes remain locked together as I move onto the next strap, pulling at the strand until both sides of my dress fall. The material puddles around my lap like a halo.

His eyes widen as they drop to my chest.

He hisses as I alternate between sucking him off and tracing his shaft with the tip of my tongue.

situations, but nothing compares to the high I get watching Declan lose himself in the pleasure of my touch.

He makes quick work of discarding my dress, leaving me blinking up at the ceiling, naked and waiting. I slide across the comforter as he drags me toward the edge of the bed. My limp legs hang over the side, dangling as he shoves them open.

He slips a finger inside me, dragging it back and forth before adding another. “Who knew you liked sucking cock that much?”

I rise on my elbows. “Driving you wild seems to have an addicting quality to it.”

Based on the smile on his face as he turns away from me and grabs a condom from his nightstand, I think he liked my answer.

One can only hope I’m rewarded for my honesty.

I watch him slip the condom on his shaft, and I’m hit with another wave of admiration for him. Knowing he is willing to put aside his goal to get me pregnant makes my whole chest ache.

He steps between my legs again and lines himself up at my entrance. My breath catches as he drives forward, slamming his hips against mine. Tears prick my eyes from the burning sensation of him stretching me.

He wraps my trembling legs around his waist, and I hiss at the tightness.

His onslaught destroys any sense of control I have over the situation. He throws one of my quivering legs over his shoulder

before adding the other, changing our position so I can take more of his abuse.

A burning desire in my lower half intensifies with each slap of his hips against mine. I claw at the sheets. His chest. His thighs.

Anything to ground me as he memorizes my body like a language only he can translate.

His pumps never cease, and my orgasm starts to build inside of me. He runs his thumb across my clit before drawing small circles with the pad. I detonate like a bomb, warmth exploding in my chest as he shoves me over the edge of no return. My eyes slam shut, only to snap open again as he pinches my clit.

I found my newest addiction, and it happens to be my fake husband.

33

DECLAN

I busy myself with digging through a drawer. “I wasn’t about to kill the moment by asking if you wanted to try for a baby.”

She laughs. “I appreciate the thought, but I know what I signed up for.”

Is she fucking kidding me? If we are attracted to each other? The way she minimizes our connection makes me want to throw her back on the bed and show her how attracted she is to me. It’s bullshit is what it is.

You’re angry at yourself because you’re developing feelings and she isn’t.

Fuck yeah, I’m angry. I hate this discomfort growing in my chest with each ragged breath as much as I hate the way she is the one person I can’t control.

I slam the drawer shut, which makes her wince. Her reaction only adds to my already deteriorating mood.

Rein your temper in before you do something you regret.

I’m quick to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before grabbing my wallet.

What I want is silence and some time to think by myself because something I’m doing isn’t working. I chased. I conquered. Yet she still won’t acknowledge the obvious feelings growing between us.

I almost turn around, but I can’t. Not when I feel like this. I don’t even know what this even is, but I want to claw at my chest until I have the ability to rip my useless heart out.

She bites down on her lip and glances away. “Because you’re upset.”

One more chance and then you’re walking away.

She doesn’t stop me again, although I wish she had.

I drive around Chicago without any destination. The empty feeling in my chest only intensifies with each mile I put between Iris and

myself, much to my frustration. I don’t want to be away from her, but I don’t want to be around her either. Not when I feel out of control and one sentence away from destroying all the progress I’ve made up until this point.

I refuse to give her another reason to question our relationship, even if she doesn’t know we are in one in the first place. But how do I convince my wife by contract that we are meant to be together by choice?

The question plagues me for a whole hour. Nothing I come up with seems to be good enough, and I always circle back to the same issue.

I’m hopeless and desperate by the time I knock on Cal’s door.

He opens it not a minute later. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

His lack of a smile is the only confirmation I need. “Whatever you did, go back and fix it.”

He sighs. “Come on in. You look like you could use a person to talk to.”

I walk past him and enter his apartment. He keeps the place pristine, a complete opposite of what anyone would expect given his wreck of a personal life.

Cal acts like a good host, bringing me a glass of water and a tumbler of my favorite whiskey. “Thought you could use both.”

I pick up the water and leave the whiskey on the coffee table.

Alcohol will only make matters worse, and I need a clear head.

Cal’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

These are the moments I wish life had a rewind button.

I press my lips together to avoid saying anything else.

He grabs my glass of whiskey, takes a sip, and unceremoniously spits it out, straight back into the same cup.

To think we are related.

He only laughs.

My teeth grind together. “Are you done?”

Cal makes me feel like I’m the punchline of some joke.

Except his eyes twinkle from withheld laughter.

He blocks my exit. “Stop. I’ll help you.”

I raise a brow. “I’m starting to doubt you even know how.”

He glares. “If you want her to fall in love with you, you have to prove to her how you’re different from all the men she has dated before.”

My frown deepens. “I highly doubt that.”

I do one slow blink.

I glare. “No, it’s not.”

There he goes again with the L-word. It could explain my insane need to keep Iris close and protect her from harm’s way. The way my chest feels all tight when she is gone. How my heart beats faster whenever she is in the same room as me. My intense need to mind my words so I don’t hurt her.

Shit.

I am falling in love with Iris. The signs were all there, and I ignored them because I didn’t truly understand them.

Instead of an intense wave of panic at the idea of loving Iris, I feel calm. Love I can work with. I might not know how, but I’m willing to learn. For her and only her.

I switch my water for the whiskey. “I feel like I’m going to need something stronger for the rest of this conversation.”

Whoever said the truth will set you free is a dumbass. My legs feel weighed down by invisible cement blocks as I walk inside the house.

I throw the keys on the counter and make my way toward the stairs, only to change paths toward the bright light on the other side of the house.

A lamp in the corner of the living room basks the space in a low light.

Iris, still dressed in my T-shirt, lays sprawled out on the couch with a blanket covering the bottom half of her body. One of her hands still clutches onto her phone as if she is waiting for a call.

She stayed up for you.

I instantly regret my decision to turn off my phone after she called me the first time. It was a rash choice made in the heat of the moment, but it was clearly the wrong one.

I lift her carefully in my arms, being mindful not to wake her with any sudden movements. She mumbles something before snuggling up to my chest. My chest tightens as I look down at her, wondering how the hell I ended up married to a woman like her.

You know how.

My teeth grind together as I let out an agitated breath. Iris’s head bobs with the movement, but she doesn’t stir.

I carry her up the stairs and toward my room. Somehow, I’m able to get her tucked into bed without waking her up, although she mumbles a few things in her sleep about her mom.

I shower before crawling into bed and tugging Iris against me. I intertwine her legs with mine, securing her to my body so she isn’t able to escape in the morning.

34

IRIS

Iwake up sweating and unable to move anything but my head.

Somehow, I ended up in Declan’s bed, trapped by his arms and legs.

The audacity of this man is unrivaled. I try to escape his grasp, but it only seems to make things worse. His arms tighten around me as he mumbles something unintelligible into my hair.

He blinks up at the ceiling before looking at me. “Good morning.” His arms remain locked around me, equally as irritating as his legs securing me to his side.

He laughs, and I’m instantly peeved from the way the sound warms my insides like alcohol in the dead of winter.

My back hits the mattress right before his lips press against mine.

The kiss is a complete contrast from yesterday’s desperation, and I

find myself growing frustrated with how controlled Declan appears.

It’s soft, sweet, and far too tame after the kind of sex we had.

How can he kiss me like that after walking out on me? Blood rushes through my ears, making the tips hot.

I shove at his chest. “Get off.”

My mouth drops open. I try to budge, but he created a cage with his limbs.

You fell for the oldest trick in the book.

Instead of kissing him, I should have been trying to get out from under him. Declan had me completely dickmatized, goddammit.

I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Declan Kane just admitted that he is falling in love with me.

Absolutely no fucking way.

Right?

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory. “You’re joking.”

His brows pull together. “Ask me why I hate when people use Times New Roman instead of Arial.”

Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply. What can I possibly say that could compare to that?

Declan doesn’t give me an option as he continues. “Want to know why I kept the cactus?”

I nod.

If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.

His eyes dart away from my face. “Ask me why you were denied the job transfer.”

No.

There’s absolutely no freaking way.

His lips press into a thin white line. “I couldn’t let you go.”

His face softens. “I’m sorry.”

He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.

He slips off the bed, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.

My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.

How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable? A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.

I slide off the bed and walk straight into his chest. His arms stay plastered against his sides, so I grab them and wrap them around my waist.

His body tenses. “I’m stating facts.”

He takes a deep breath. “You’re right.”

I smile up at him. “I could get used to hearing those words.”

He reaches up and cups my cheek. “Give me a chance and I’ll tell you them every single day.”

I sigh and look away. “I don’t know.”

I shake my head. “Our marriage isn’t even real.”

I avoid his penetrating gaze. “What if my feelings are telling me to run?”

I stammer. “Do you always have an answer for everything?”

Longing.

I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.

You might get hurt.

I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I’m done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I’d rather try and fail than never try at all.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his. He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.

I pull away, only to clasp onto his stubbled chin. “This could be a disaster, but I’m willing to try.”

He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected. Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.

I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn’t enough. While Declan might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.

He is falling in love with me. No translation necessary.

35

IRIS

The next weekend, I wake up to absolute chaos downstairs. I roll out of Declan’s bed, run to my room to get dressed in something other than one of his T-shirts, and freshen up in the restroom.

It doesn’t take a super sleuth to find out where all the noise is coming from. I make my way through the house, following the sound of Cal’s voice.

Declan doesn’t bother answering me as he stares at the TV. With the way he analyzes the black screen, one would think it was actually turned on.

If I expected any answers, I’m not about to get them from him.

My heart could possibly burst from the reality that Declan planned this all for me. I dropped the idea after he protested it, so knowing he went out of his way to plan it anyway…

It makes me want to kiss him.

Or fuck him.

Or kiss him and fuck him.

Cal holds up the sparkling apple cider bottle with a scrunched nose. “Do you have some exciting news to share with me or is this an insult to injury?”

I laugh. “I’m not pregnant.”

Declan re-enters the room. “Not yet at least.”

My whole body feels about twenty degrees too hot. The way this man looks at me makes me wonder if it’s possible to get pregnant via intense staring and palpable longing. Inquiring minds want to know.

There’s no way I’ll get through being the fifth wheel without wanting to chop my own dick off.”

Declan shoots Cal a withering look as he leaves the living room.

He uses the now working remote to turn on the TV and find the right channel.

His back muscles shift underneath his T-shirt. “Gezelligheid1.”

I pull out my phone and stare at the search bar with a pinched expression.

I laugh when the page loads. “Cozy? That’s why you did this?”

He shakes his head. “It’s more than that. It’s about creating a place where people can relax and feel happy.”

My chest aches from his confession. “That has to be one of the sweetest—but extremely fucked up—things anyone has ever said to me.”

Well, I can’t exactly debate his kind of logic on that one, especially when it makes me want to kiss him until we’re both breathless.

I bite down on my lip. “What happens when what makes me happy goes against what you want?”

His gaze darkens. “Then I’ll convince you otherwise.”

My head tilts. “That’s not how relationships work.”

What then?”

He cups my cheek and draws me toward him. “Is it still considered torture if I let you come?”

He laughs as he pulls me into a searing kiss that makes my toes curl. With the caress of his tongue against mine, our conversation is erased from recent memory.

The doorbell rings, and Declan hesitates to let me go. He tugs me back toward him for one last kiss.

The doorbell chimes again, and I laugh as I leave a scowling Declan behind to go answer the front door. I throw it open to find Rowan and Zahra standing hand in hand on the porch.

Zahra looks over at me with a smile. “Hey!” She doesn’t give me a chance to say anything before she barrels into me and throws her arms around my torso. “I’m so excited to hang out with you!”

Declan’s shadow seems to make everyone freeze in place.

Rowan’s lips twitch as he ignores it and throws an arm around his back and gives him a pat. “Your threats made me curious.”

Declan doesn’t pay any attention to my question as he shoots Rowan a death glare.

Rowan turns his gaze toward me, and a smile brightens his whole face. “I’m going to thoroughly enjoy this all.”

He looks at Declan as he responds to my question, “The biggest. I love watching people crash and burn.”

Declan’s jaw ticks.

I keep an eye on them over my shoulder. Declan shoves a finger into Rowan’s chest as he encroaches in his space. Rowan doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, instead he’s laughing and saying something I can’t make out from this far away.

Zahra pats my hand. “Don’t mind them. Rowan has been out for Declan’s blood ever since the whole Dreamland debacle happened. It was only a matter of time before they hashed everything out.”

I’m not sure a simple conversation will solve everything, given how upset Declan was when Rowan chose moving to Dreamland over helping him with the company.

I turn back toward Zahra. “You know about that?”

She laughs. “Oh yeah. Rowan told me after he decided to stay at Dreamland.”

Cal steps out of the living room. “Declan found someone else to torture now, so I think we’re safe from his wrath, so long as Iris puts out.”

I choke on my inhale. “Who said anything about that?”

Zahra’s eyes widen. “You kissed him.”

My cheeks burn as I look away.

Zahra and I make our way to my room with our drinks in hand. For the first time since I moved into the house, I finally use the sitting area by the huge window.

She laughs. “Sorry. I tend to talk out loud sometimes and forget my manners.”

I take a sip of my drink. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re curious about everything.”

Her whole face lights up. “Yes! I’ve been dying to ask you about your fake marriage, but your wedding didn’t seem like the most appropriate place.”

She snorts. “Does that spiel actually work on any of your friends?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t know. Besides Cal, who already knows everything, I don’t have any.”

Her bottom lip juts out. “That’s sad.”

I sigh. “It’s old news.”

She clinks her glass against mine before taking a sip. “Touchy subject. Got it.”

I instantly feel bad for being snippy. “Sorry. I don’t mean to come off rude.”

I look around my room. “You don’t find my situation a little…

weird?”

Her chest shakes from silent laughter. “Not at all. If anything, it’s kind of romantic, seeing as he invited us over here to spend time with you.”

Her lips form an O. “I see.”

I laugh. “Whoa. I didn’t say anything about feelings.”

Her eyes roll. “Come on. You must know he has some kind of feelings for you.”

broken.

scared and unsure about dating a man again after I was burned badly.”

Her smile falters. “At the time, it felt like my world was ending.

But now I realize it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

She shakes her head. “Because I found myself.”

She laughs. “Too deep for a Sunday morning?”

I nod. “Way too deep.”

We break out into a fit of laughter. We move on to safer topics that have nothing to do with my relationship with Declan. I’m grateful he planned today’s family gathering, solely because I got to spend more time with Zahra and hear another person’s opinion on my marriage. While Cal means well, he isn’t exactly a guru when it comes to relationships. Hence his resistance to contacting Alana despite him needing to for his inheritance.

Speak of the devil, he throws open my bedroom door with a dramatic flare. “I hate to interrupt this bonding session but the race is about to start and Declan’s getting antsy.”

I lock arms with Zahra. “Let’s go put Declan out of his misery.”

Cal scoffs. “I know you’re biased because you’re his wife, but the man has been miserable ever since the day he was born.”

Zahra winks. “I have a feeling that’s about to change.”

1  Noun, Dutch: The warm feeling of being surrounded by loved ones. The state or fact of being cozy.

36

DECLAN

It only takes one email to ruin my whole year.

She comes running into my office with my brother on her tail.

I don’t even bother asking what he is doing here. Knowing him, it has everything to do with avoiding his responsibilities.

My entire face feels like it’s on fire. “He received a call from my father.”

My thought exactly. “Yakura’s threatening to pull out of the project.”

She drops into the chair across from me. “Why?”

It doesn’t take a genius to understand what happened. With my father’s personality and his desperation to remain CEO, I have no doubt he went out of his way to make my project seem inadequate.

Because in the end, the Kane Company bottom line doesn’t matter so

long as he remains in power, even if it means ruining a deal that could make us billions.

He wants to make me look weak and inexperienced compared to him, and this is the best shot he has at destroying whatever credibility I have with the board thus far. The executives know how hard I have been working on this project. If it falls through, the blowback could be detrimental to my transition.

Her brows scrunch together. “Of course not. What do you take me for? An amateur?”

Iris turns toward me. “We show him how our goals align.”

My face is as blank as my thoughts. I thought Yakura’s goal was to build a park worthy of his land, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

I shoot Cal a look that tells him to keep his mouth shut. “Go ahead.”

She perks up at my obvious interest. “When we initially introduced the idea of building Dreamland Tokyo, Yakura’s first question had nothing to do with profits. I found it strange that someone as successful as him wouldn’t care about how much money he stands to make.”

Her eyes roll. “Of course you don’t. You were too focused on pulling up the next slide discussing expected proceeds.”

She nods.

Fitting because it burns away that last bit of remaining anger I have toward my father. In its place, I am filled with a newfound sense of hope. I can convince Yakura to stick with the project, so long as Iris helps me. She can appeal to just about anyone’s humanity—

mine included.

Cal whistles. “Someone thinks mighty highly of herself.”

I want to smack the back of his head but hold back. I’d hate to waste his last brain cells with something impulsive.

She nods, and his smile is wiped clean off his face. I feel the same way. Unlike Rowan, neither one of us wants anything to do with the park. Every memory of our life with our mother is attached to the place. The only times I’ve gone have been strictly for business, and I’ve been sure to keep it that way.

Cal’s laugh grates against my nerves.

You can count on me to be there.”

He waves a hand down his body. “I’m part of the promotional package.”

He looks over at Iris for help and she shrugs. “He’s the boss.”

Forget kissing her. I could fuck her for standing by me instead of Cal on something like this.

She gives his hand a pat. “It’s in your best interest. You hate business talk anyway.”

He sighs. “You’re right. Still fucked up though when you’re my best friend.”

My world seems to tilt as she says the words. The weight behind them nearly knocks me on my ass, and I grip onto the handles of my chair in a chokehold.

She laughs. “No one said anything about love.”

The way she laughs his statement off feels like someone pierced my chest with a serrated knife. My chest burns equally strong as my gut churns.

Give her time to come around.

I’ve seen the way she looks at me. There is no way she doesn’t love me, even if she hasn’t processed it yet.

Iris drops a stack of papers on my desk. “Here.”

Holy shit. She fucking did it.

Did you really doubt her in the first place?

No. Of course not. Although I doubted the damage my father did and how Iris would overcome such a challenge.

I grab the stack of papers and flip through them. The first packet includes information about our pilot and our Dreamland schedule, from a park walkthrough with Rowan and Zahra to meetings with the different creative teams on the property. She even secured a private office for me to work out of.

I scan the next packet which includes everything on Yakura.

From all his preferences to an entire family tree, there isn’t a single stone Iris left unturned. “Please tell me you went about this plan the legal way.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You didn’t.”

She laughs, and it does something strange to my heart rate.

Her smile wavers. “Don’t go saying sweet things to me at work.”

I lean back in my chair and throw her papers on the desk. “Like what?”

She wags her finger. “Nope. I’m off-limits during business hours.”

Blood works its way straight to my dick. “We could call in sick.”

What the hell are you doing by suggesting both of you should skip work?

She laughs. “It’s the middle of a workday, and you have a meeting with the head of park development in ten minutes.”

I check the time on my computer. “Clock is ticking then.” I press the automatic lock button underneath my desk, and the clicking sound makes her brows rise.

I latch onto her hand and pull her straight onto my lap.

Kissing her feels like I cheated my way into Heaven, and I plan on soaking up every second of it.

We break apart as she straddles my lap. My head drops back against the chair as she presses herself against my cock, swiveling her hips in a way that drives me wild with want. I grip onto her hips with a chokehold to keep her pressed against me. She kisses her way down the curve of my neck before sucking on the spot that makes my hips buck forward.

A wet spot gathers in front of my pants from the way she rocks back and forth against my stiff cock. I’m mindless as I push her up and down, switching directions and making her moan as she grinds into me from a different angle.

The shrill ringtone of her phone threatens to kill the moment. She pulls away, but I don’t release her hips from my grasp.

She turns her head at the last second, giving me her cheek. “It could be important.”

She must sense my self-control wavering because she does what I say without asking any questions. Her palms flatten against the wood as she leans forward, making the hem of her dress lift to an enticing height. Her sharp inhale fills the silence as I run the tips of my fingers up the back of her thighs. I lift her dress, revealing the globes of her ass.

She turns her head so she can properly glare at me over her shoulder. “Your narcissism is showing again.”

I shake my head and regain control over the situation. “You know what I think?”

Iris sucks in a breath as I drag my fingers up and down her thighs.

Her eyes are two glittering orbs of brown. “Quite the assumption on your part.”

I chuckle as I grab onto the strap of her thong and drag it down her legs. She lifts each foot for me, and I bend down to retrieve it.

Her brow arches as she looks over at me pocketing her thong. “I never pegged you as the souvenir type.”

She pushes her ass out. “Please.”

Her death stare turns into one of lust as I thrust two fingers inside of her. My cock aches to replace them, and my movements grow desperate to match. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, quieting her moans. I press my thumb against her clit and rub it in slow circles. My fingers brush against her G-spot, and her knees buckle as she clutches onto the desk for stability. She unravels, her legs dropping out from underneath her as she comes.

She is completely dazed as I undo my belt buckle and pull down my pants. I’m quick with putting on the condom, ignoring the way my chest tightens at the idea of disregarding my duty for her.

It’s only a matter of time before she comes around to the idea. Give her time.

I push my erection against her opening. She bolts upright, but I push her flat against the desk.

I lean forward and press my chest against her back. “I could come at the sight of you, ass up, facedown, and wet for me.”

She releases a sharp breath as I push her hair aside, revealing her neck. I kiss the spot that seems to drive her wild. She bucks under me, pushing the tip of my cock into her. I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop my groan, although my eyes roll back into my

head. Never have I felt this kind of connection to someone else. Over the years, I forgot what it felt like to desire someone. To be driven by the need to possess them in every single way.

I have a meeting in five minutes and I’m too busy fucking her to prepare for it. In fact, it turns me on to consider them waiting outside, listening to how good I make Iris feel.

Iris doesn’t seem pleased with my lack of action as she uses the edge of the desk to push backward, and I sink farther into her.

I grip onto her hips. “You’re not in charge here.”

I ram into her, and her gasp of air makes me smile.

She laughs.

It stirs the wild side of me that I keep under lock and key. I withdraw, only to thrust back into her with punishing strength. Her dilated eyes still reflect amusement, and it drives me feral that she doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by this connection. Desperation claws against my chest to show her who holds the power between us.

I take out my frustration on her body. My hands grip onto her waist as I ram into her over and over again. Her breathing becomes more ragged, and her grip on the edge of the desk slips along with her control.

You’re not in charge here, my ass.

A knock against the door makes Iris’s eyes widen.

I lean forward and press the pad of my thumb against her clit.

She attempts to shift away from me, but I hold her in place.

I withdraw my cock and trace the seam of her ass with the tip.

I shrug. “Pity. Maybe next time.”

I smile as I slam back into her without warning. Her gasp fills me with pride while the trembling of her legs makes me crazed. Fucking Iris is quickly becoming my favorite pastime, where each round feels like a battle of who will surrender first.

A tingle shoots down my spine as I fight off the urge to come. I work hard for each gasp and moan that makes it past her lips, and I feel victorious as she comes around my cock. Her legs give out, and I hold her up as I thrust into her over and over again until I find my own release.

The relief is all-consuming, filling my vision with black spots as I come. She claws at the desk as I ram into her one last time. My own legs threaten to give out, but I refuse to withdraw yet. I don’t want to kill the connection, regardless of who is waiting on the other side of the door.

I lean over and kiss her neck. “Remember this when you think you’re in control here.”

It’s a bullshit statement on my part. I lost control weeks ago, and now I’m nothing but a slave to the sensations she stirs up inside of me.

She swipes the wood chips away like that changes anything. “At least it’ll stir up some good memories for you.”

Fucked. You’re absolutely fucked.

37

IRIS

We finally made it to Dreamland. The smell of fresh-baked cookies makes my mouth water. Our three-row golf cart flies across the brick pavers, easily navigating the empty streets. We pass by smiling employees, decked out princesses and princes, and shops prepping for another busy day in the park.

My excitement only grows as we near the massive princess castle in the middle of it all.

Declan places a palm on my bouncing thigh. “Are you okay?”

I grin. “Just excited.”

His forehead wrinkles as he frowns.

My smile falls. “We’ve traveled here once for business.”

Her face is one of absolute horror.

Declan’s hand on my thigh tightens in a silent look at me gesture, but I don’t. I don’t want to see the pity on his face.

I consider lying but think better of it. “My mom didn’t have enough money to get us tickets. With flights, hotel, and admission fees, you could buy a month’s worth of groceries for the same price as a trip here.”

Zahra grasps onto Rowan’s arm. “We need to offer teacher discounts. And children of teacher discounts. And discounts for adults who have never been to Dreamland as a child.”

He shoots her a look. “At that rate, we won’t make any money.”

He looks over at Declan for help, but Declan is solely looking at me.

I shrug. “You never asked.”

The hand on my thigh squeezes harder. I shift my gaze toward Declan, and the look on his face sends a shiver down my back.

The idea makes me laugh. “You hate this place.”

Heat spreads through my chest. I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a squeeze. “I’d love that.”

Declan speaks up to the rest of the group. “Plans have changed.”

Zahra squeals with delight, and like that, our day is completely altered because Declan declared it so.

All for me.

Zahra is the best tour guide ever. Turns out she has been a part of Dreamland since she was a child, so she knows everything about the place. With her knowledge and Rowan’s ability to help us skip any lines, there is nothing stopping us from exploring the whole park in a day. Well, nothing but me. I try my hardest to keep focused, but I

am distracted every few feet by the different flower and plant displays. The array of colors captures my attention, and I can’t help stopping each time to check out the perfectly designed topiaries of different Dreamland characters.

Declan looms over me like a shadow, assessing my every move.

I turn toward him with heated cheeks. “What?”

Zahra bounces over to us. “You know, if you’re interested, we could take you to check out the horticulture department.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

She smiles. “Sure. It would be no big deal.”

She pulls out her phone and taps away at the screen. “Do you have any free time tomorrow? The head of the department is going to be there and would be happy to show you around. They might be a little busier than usual because they’re prepping for the Flower Festival, but they’d love to show you the behind-the-scenes action.”

I gasp. “The head of the department wants to show me around?”

Her chest shakes from withheld laughter. “Yes. Said so himself.”

She flips her phone so I can see the text chain with my own eyes.

Declan clears his throat.

Shit. This isn’t a personal vacation, remember? Today is already enough of a deviation from the protocol. The last thing Declan needs is me becoming distracted by things that aren’t important right now.

I can come back and visit Dreamland whenever, but we only have one shot to convince Yakura to work with us. Plants can wait.

I shake my head. “Uhm. Actually, tomorrow doesn’t work for me. Tell him I’m sorry and maybe next time I can make room in my

schedule for a visit.”

Her smile falls. “Oh. No worries.”

Declan tugs on my elbow. “Why are you saying no?”

I frown. “But we’re a team.”

His right eye twitches. “I did some research on how people with learning differences like yours do best with verbal and written instruction.”

My knees tremble. “Anything else you learned?”

His arm wraps around my waist, which is probably best seeing as my legs are about two confessions away from giving out.

I laugh despite the tight ball of emotion forming in my throat.

His lips lift the slightest bit at the corners. “I do hate texting.

Don’t trick yourself into thinking it had anything to do with you.”

His arms don’t budge, although his lips curve up into a smile.

I stick out my tongue. “Please. I don’t think you’ve spent a whole workday without me for three years.”

His voice drops as his dark eyes capture mine in a trance. “And I don’t plan on doing so anytime soon.”

I snuggle against Declan’s chest as he throws the comforter over our entwined bodies. I’m grateful he takes initiative because my muscles are aching after going around the entire park twice.

I trace mindless patterns on his chest. “Thank you for today.”

I laugh so hard, I’m afraid I might pee if I don’t stop. “You don’t need any more practice. Trust me.” For someone who has avoided women for God knows how long, Declan sure knows what he’s doing in the bedroom. Or office. Or shower. Pretty much anywhere that has a surface to fuck against is no longer safe.

My eyes widen. We haven’t talked about condoms ever since our conversation a couple of weeks ago when Declan walked out on me in the middle of our argument. Neither one of us has dared to broach the subject, so we haven’t stopped using them.

I’m not sure I’m even breathing as I speak up. “But we only agreed to one child.”

He presses his lips against mine to shut me up. “Exactly.”

He kisses me again, and my body melts into the mattress.

His throat bobs. “Then we wait.”

I’m hit with a wave of emotion so strong, my eyes glisten. A single tear slips down my face before landing on the pillow beneath me. Never in a million years did I expect to hear those words come out of his mouth.

He kisses me until my lips tingle and my legs tremble around his waist. Our clothes land in a pile on the floor next. When he reaches for a condom on the dresser, I cover his hand with mine and shake my head.

I nod, afraid to speak. He groans as he kisses me, this time with enough heat to set my lips on fire. His movements are unhurried as he touches my body like it’s the very first time.

I feel cherished as his lips kiss a path from my mouth to my chest. He draws my nipple into his mouth, teasing the tip with his tongue. I jolt from the zing that shoots down my spine. His throat vibrates against my skin as he laughs, but his amusement disappears as his mouth returns to torturing my breast. He moves on to the other, focusing all his attention on pushing me to insanity.

I rub against him, trying to seek relief. Pressure builds inside of me from just him sucking, licking, and nipping at my breasts, but I’m not able to find my release.

I groan from frustration and pull on his hair.

His laugh fills me with a different kind of warmth than the one bubbling in my lower belly. He crawls down the bed, making a mess of our sheets as he spreads my legs wide. Our gazes stay locked as he sinks his tongue inside of me. My back arches, but his hand holds me flat against the bed as he fucks me with his tongue.

Will it always feel this good?

His chuckle sends another vibration up my body, and I realize I must have said it aloud.

Declan doesn’t stop until I lay helplessly on the bed, splayed out and waiting for him.

I shiver as he lines his cock up at my entrance. He drags the tip back and forth, collecting my arousal with each swipe. His shuddery breath fills me with pride.

I wrap my legs around him, encouraging him to continue.

Our eyes don’t leave one another as his cock fills me inch by inch.

We both shake as he seats himself inside of me, and his eyes screw shut as he takes a deep breath.

Fuck is right. I’m afraid he might not move again, but he seems to get better control over himself and starts to pump in and out.

With each snap of his hips, I climb higher. His movements are crazed. Uncontrolled. Primal in a way I’ve never experienced before.

My head spins from all the sensations happening at once. A feeling of weightlessness takes over me, and it feels like I am having an out-of-body experience.

Declan seems to be right there with me. His eyes are pitch black as he drives into my body like he owns it, leaving bruises where his hands hold me in the right position for his pleasure. It makes me feel used in the best kind of way.

He angles me just right so his cock slides against the spot that has me gasping for air. His thumb finds my clit again, and it only takes a few slow circles to have me explode from ecstasy.

He fucks me through my orgasm until I’m writhing underneath him again. When he finally reaches his climax, he releases a groan I feel straight to my clit. His hips don’t stop moving as he comes inside of me. He drops down on his elbows, careful not to crush me as he kisses me once before laying his forehead against mine.

Neither one of us wants to move and break the moment. So we stay there until he is forced to pull out, and part of his release spills out.

I sigh as a tingle shoots all the way down to my toes.

I thought he would be done with me already, but he keeps touching me until I’m desperately reaching for him again.

The second time he enters me, his movements are slow, sweet.

Loving. He apologizes for his earlier brutality with soft kisses and a reverent touch. I’ve never felt so loved in my life, and it has everything to do with the way he looks at me as he fucks me this time around.

He kisses my neck, shoulders, breasts, forehead. Not even my soul is left untouched as he whispers foreign words in my ear. I have no idea what they mean, but the way he says them sends goosebumps across my skin.

Our gazes connect. The way I shiver has nothing to do with his touch and everything to do with the way he looks at me.

I might not be able to recite foreign words like him, but I understand tone and body language, and whatever he says makes my heart feel so full, it might burst.

You’re falling for him.

For the first time ever, I’m not afraid of love. If this is what it feels like, I’m willing to try, consequences be damned.

1  Japanese: I love you.

2  Hungarian: I love you

3  German: I love you.

38

DECLAN

Of course, the one day that Iris takes off is the day everything turns to shit.

I don’t have a chance to panic as I rush out the door of my hotel room. I’m quick to pull up Iris’s number and call her.

It goes to voicemail, so I dial again. She picks up on the fourth ring which is unlike her.

Someone boos, and it sounds an awful lot like Zahra. I’m hit with a twinge of guilt. Am I really going to drag her away from Zahra so she can come help me pick up after my father’s mess? It’s not her fault he keeps screwing around with our plans. And to be honest, I

don’t want her anywhere near him. Not because I don’t think she could control herself, but more so because I don’t want him to use her to get to me. He has already hurt her enough.

I open my mouth to tell her about what is happening, but I stop myself . I think back to our honeymoon and her reaction to being forced into working on her day off.

I’ve spent three years of my life making sure you’re taken care of, even if it meant sacrificing my happiness to do so.

No, I can’t make her leave now. She has already sacrificed enough for me, and it’s not her fault my father won’t stop his attack against me.

I take a deep breath and accept my choice. “I was calling to check in on you. How is it?” I press the elevator button and wait.

She sounds so damn excited, and it solidifies my plan. I can’t rip her away from her day. Not when the only option I have is to throw her into a family feud she doesn’t deserve. It’s the last thing I want for her. My father has no limits when it comes to Iris, and I refuse to subject her to that kind of abuse after everything she has been through in her life.

Except you’re not a normal man.

It’s better to get used to this kind of feeling now because it’s only going to get worse once I become CEO.

Zahra calls out Iris’s name.

She laughs. “Be good to your brother today.”

The elevator dings and the two doors slide open in front of me.

Her excitement is contagious, and I smile to myself knowing my decision is the right one. There is no way in hell I’m stealing her away from that opportunity. I might not be a normal husband, but that doesn’t make me a stupid one. At least I hope not.

It feels good knowing at least one of us will have a good day today. Even if that someone isn’t me.

Mr. Yakura showing up a couple days earlier is a problem I can handle.

My father deciding to come along so he can make amends is a whole different issue. One I’m wary of from the get-go. While I might not know every part of his plan, I’m smart enough to put the pieces together. It doesn’t require much effort given the way I walk in on my father speaking to Yakura about moving up the timeline.

The bastard wants to steal my deal.

Rowan shoots me a look that says, you need to fix this.

The older man looks over at me with a smile. His white hair is perfectly styled, and his usual suit is replaced with a bright Hawaiian shirt and khakis.

I hold out my hand and he shakes it. “What a surprise.”

He grins. “I was just telling your father here how I was too excited to wait any longer.”

He waves me off. “I didn’t want to bore her with the little details, so she and I will be exploring the park together tomorrow. She’s the whole reason I agreed to this meeting in the first place. It’s not like she would ever let me turn down a trip to Dreamland.”

I’ll have to have Iris send her a special gift of some kind to express my thanks.

I shoot daggers at him, and he ignores it with a smile.

Yakura raises a brow at my father. It’s the smallest gesture, but it fills me with newfound confidence.

They’re still not on good terms. No matter what kind of timeline my father wants, Yakura isn’t biting.

It looks like my deal isn’t lost yet.

I release a genuine smile. “So, are we ready to get going?”

Yakura waves his hand toward the front door. “After you.”

Rowan and I share a look that tells him to keep my father occupied by any means necessary. He nods, and I roll my shoulders back.

At least I have one person on my team today because I already know I’m going to need him.

My father doesn’t let me get away with being the leader for long.

After I show Yakura Story Street and the entrance to Princess Cara’s castle, my father steps in with something I wasn’t even aware of.

Rowan looks over at me and shakes his head.

Shit.

My father’s smile brightens. “Might as well knock it out of the way while we are here.”

Yakura seems wary of my father but nods.

Rowan pinches the bridge of his nose.

Fuck.

My father navigates the group toward a hidden entrance of the castle. He motions for Rowan to use his keycard to open the door, and my brother complies while shooting me an apologetic look.

My father and Yakura walk up the steps first, so I hang back with Rowan as he shuts the door. I don’t want to leave my father alone with Yakura longer than necessary, but I need to be fully informed before I can plan my attack.

Rowan’s eyes dart toward the empty steps. “The one Grandpa had built for Grandma before she passed. Since she never got to see it, he never showed it to anyone else.”

Yakura is a sucker for sad stories. All my father needs to do is capitalize on the story of how his mother never had a chance to see the park become what it is. Yakura will eat it all up given his passion for developing a park he can enjoy with his family while he is still alive.

You’re fucked. “And you never thought to mention this story during the countless conversations we had about this place?”

I told myself I wouldn’t bring up his decision to move to Dreamland anymore, but I can’t help it. Anger makes me stupid and vile.

A nasty personality trait you picked up from the one man you can’t stand.

Rowan frowns. “Don’t lash out at me because you’re pissed.”

It’s a shitty shot at him and his choice to stay here. I’m not proud of letting my anger get the best of me, but I can’t find it in me to stop. Not when I might lose out to my father of all people.

I tell myself that it is fine and how I don’t need him. That if I can’t secure a deal with Yakura by myself, then I don’t deserve the position of CEO to begin with. Those thoughts are the ones that push me to take two steps at a time.

It’s time I prove to myself that I have what it takes to usurp my father. It might not be an even playing field, but that will only make my victory all the better.

I let my father have his moment. Just like I anticipated, Yakura is moved by the story of my grandmother and her untimely passing before Dreamland ever opened its gates. My victory is slipping past my fingers with each of my father’s tugs on Yakura’s heartstrings.

He is good at telling people what they want to hear. While I picked up on the skill after watching him pull the same trick on every person in his path, his mastery over people’s emotions is unmatched.

My father gloats as we make our way out of the castle. I’m grateful he waits to rub it in my face until Yakura excuses himself to use the restroom.

I keep my balled-up fists hidden away in my pockets. “Except this one won’t start until I’m CEO.”

I was a fool for thinking I could make it through this process without Iris. There is no way I can manage my father’s manipulative strategies and Yakura’s needs at the same time.

I’m quick to pull out my phone, but I hesitate over the call button.

Are you really going to ruin her day yet again?

I don’t have much of a choice. Without her, I might lose the deal.

But if you steal her away again, you might end up losing all the progress you’ve made.

Screw it. If there is one person I can count on to fix this, it’s her.

I completely ignore him as I hold my ringing phone up to my ear.

He chuckles to himself. “You’re a pathetic excuse of a man if you need your wife to help save the day.”

He tries to goad me, but I refuse to go for it. I’m no less of a man because I admit I need Iris’s help. She is the one who understands Yakura best, and I’d be foolish to think otherwise. Even if it means stealing her away again.

She answers on the second ring. “Hey. I was just thinking of you while checking out a—”

I instantly feel guilty for the worry in her voice. “Yakura and my father stopped by ahead of schedule.”

I consider telling her to forget about it, but she doesn’t let me get a sentence out.

39

IRIS

My shoulders drop as I end the call. I can’t ignore the guilt that hits me straight in the chest, knowing Zahra planned this whole day only for it to be ruined because of work.

Another plan has come and gone because of working for Declan.

I know it’s not Declan’s fault his father pulled a stunt like this, so it makes me upset to even feel that way in the first place.

I can’t erase the growing pressure in my chest at the thought of cancelling another plan. I like Zahra. Cancelling on her feels like a repeat of how I lost countless friends—all while working for Declan.

It’s not his fault you don’t set boundaries. Cal warned you that something like this was bound to happen, but you stayed anyway.

If I was working for anyone else and they called me on a day off, I would say screw it. With Declan, I don’t have a choice.

I release a heavy breath. My feet drag across the pavement as I reenter the greenhouse.

Zahra waves me over. “Check this out. They’ve been waiting six years for this one to bloom. Six!”

I look at the Titan Arum with a frown. “I’m going to need to take a rain check on today’s plans. I’m so sorry, but something came up.”

Zahra’s smile drops. “Oh no, are you feeling okay?”

I shake my head. “I feel… Frankly, I don’t know how I feel.”

I’m disappointed about today. It feels like I’m falling into the same pattern as always.

Zahra calls someone’s name and asks for a pair of keys. A random worker throws them at her, and she starts a small golf cart that still has a few plants in the back.

She shrugs. “We can come back another time.”

I sigh. “Does it ever upset you?”

She laughs. “Oh yeah. Sometimes I want to take his phone and drop it in the nearest toilet.”

I laugh. “But you don’t.”

I sigh. “I guess.”

She nudges my shoulder with hers. “What’s really wrong?

Something tells me it has nothing to do with orgasms.”

She stays silent, weaving the golf cart through curvy sidewalks and underground tunnels. I try to think of how to phrase my feelings, but they sound small in comparison to the stressor. As Declan’s partner, I should drop everything to help him. I understand that and am more than willing to. But I’m worried what might happen if it continues on as a pattern.

She laughs. “Do you plan on finding a replacement sometime soon?”

My smile wobbles. “Thanks, but it feels like my ass is the one being kicked right now.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m nothing but shaky limbs and protesting lungs as I chase after the little blue dot that marks Declan’s location. I don’t stop running until I find Declan, Yakura, and Seth all talking. Well, more like Seth is talking and Declan looks about one minute away from shoving him into the nearest fountain a hundred feet away.

Mr. Yakura’s eyes land on me. “Iris!”

I can’t respond as I keel over, slapping my hands against my thighs as I take in a few deep breaths. My breathing doesn’t seem to get any better, and my throat feels like someone wrapped their hands around it and hasn’t stopped squeezing.

I stare at two dark shoes stopping in front of me.

It makes me bristle.

I point at my tiny backpack in between wheezes. He makes quick work of finding the red canister amongst all the Dreamland junk I’ve collected over the last twenty-four hours.

I go through the motions, and my breathing becomes easier as the medicine makes its way through my system. Declan steals it back from my hand and packs it away.

I rise up and look over at Mr. Yakura with a shy smile. With the way his eyes shift from Declan to me back to Declan again, he seems almost smitten by his overbearing display.

It was kind of cute. I’ll give him that and only that today. Even though he is acting like a total ass right now, not even bothering to look at me as he stares down his father with a scowl.

I catch Seth shooting lasers at me from afar, and I give him a little wave with my free hand.

He releases me from his embrace. “She stayed at the hotel. Had I realized you would be joining us, I would have brought her along.”

His whole face lights up. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to put anyone out by changing our plans.”

He winks. “This is why I like you.”

Seth stares at me like an enemy he wants to destroy, so I welcome his challenging gaze with one of my own. It’s his fault Declan and I were put in this position in the first place.

And I don’t plan on forgetting it.

40

DECLAN

Ithought having Iris along would solve my problems, except it doesn’t. If anything, it only adds an extra complication to my already failing plan.

Her idea to bring Mrs. Yakura along? Great in theory, but she is just another pain in my ass. She stops every twenty feet to stare at something, which only slows us down. And by slowing us down, it gives my father more opportunities to lead the discussion. Iris tries to move her forward, but she becomes immersed in every damn flower, child, and sign in our path.

Herding Mrs. Yakura is about as successful as gathering a bunch of stray cats. It doesn’t help that her husband seems to encourage her, with his attention span split between my father, me, and his wife.

I take another deep breath as Mr. Yakura pulls to the side with Iris and his wife to check out another topiary. They act as if they have never seen a shrub before.

I swear I’m about one comment away from grabbing him by his tie and choking him with it.

Breathe.

I try to use my usual phrases to calm myself down, but each time I try, it only seems to make matters worse.

He chuckles underneath his breath. “You can give up at any time and I’ll take over to secure the deal. I’m even willing to give you credit and put in a good word for you during our next board meeting.”

My teeth grind together. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

He smirks. “Go ahead and check your phone. I’ll wait.”

I pull it out but stop myself. His tricks aren’t going to work on me.

Her smile drops before she recovers. “So, I was wondering what you both would like to see next?”

Great. I have to choose between giving Mr. Yakura permanent nerve damage and pleasing his wife.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

My father and I spend the afternoon battling for Mr. Yakura’s attention. He consistently interjects himself as if to remind us that he is still a part of the group, and Yakura falls for it. He wants to know about our family, our history with the park, and what it was like growing up with a grandfather who created the biggest fairy-tale empire in the world.

I jump in and respond to some questions before my father has a chance, although his years of experience give him an advantage.

Yakura seems pleased with my responses. But then again, he seems equally interested in what my father has to say. Maybe even more so.

This wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t even here to begin with.

A problem my assistant caused by creating a damning automatic message insinuating I was at Dreamland. My father is no idiot. He knows exactly what a trip to Dreamland means, and it has nothing to do with visiting Rowan.

Since I didn’t believe him, I check my email. There are multiple ones from employees where I automatically replied back saying I would be out of town for business at Dreamland.

My father wasn’t lying after all. Iris fucked up astronomically, and now I’m stuck trying to fix the mess she made.

As if she senses my darkening mood, she tugs on my sleeve. “I need to use the restroom.”

I’m hesitant to leave my father alone with the Yakuras, but it seems like I don’t have much of a choice as Iris drags me away. She leads us toward the nearby restroom area, out of sight from the others.

Her brows pull together. “Your father is up to something.”

I cut her off. “What good is company policy if I might not have a damn company to run in a year because of this?”

She winces.

Calm down before you say something you’ll really regret.

I take a deep breath and try to recalibrate, but with how everything is going today, I feel beyond flustered. All because my father found out about my trip from the one person I trusted to handle all this.

Now isn’t the time to get into it with her.

I shut my eyes to avoid looking at her face. “I think you should go.” It was a mistake to drag her into this.

Her mouth drops open. “A distraction? All I’ve done is try to help you.”

She takes a step back like I physically slapped her. “That isn’t fair.”

Her eyes have a sheen to them that wasn’t present a minute ago.

you, I would end it, circle back tomorrow, and see if you can meet with Yakura privately. He is more observant than you give him credit for.”

She sucks in a breath. The noise acts like a needle against the pressure building inside my chest. I’m hit with a strong wave of guilt.

Be better than him.

I reach out to cup her cheek, but she steps back.

Her rejection slices against my thinning resolve. “So, is this how it’s going to be? You’re going to punish me whenever you don’t get your way? What’s next, withholding sex because I did something stupid like comment on your job performance?”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s not my issue with you and you know it.”

Her eyes widen and she takes a step back but stumbles. When my arm shoots out to help her, she flinches.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The regret is instant like a bullet to the heart. It’s one thing to lash out at my brother because I’m pissed, but it’s another to talk to Iris this way.

Say something.

I wish I could go back in time and make better choices because the look on her face guts me. Absolutely makes a wreck of my insides to the point of physical pain. “Iris, I shouldn’t—”

She laughs. It elicits the same reaction as nails running down a chalkboard. I reach for her again, and I think she must be in shock because she lets me hold her.

She stays silent, so I kiss her. Her arms hang by her sides which only increases my desperation. I want her to do something—

anything really, so long as it takes away this feeling growing in my gut.

Her brows tug together as she looks up at me with glistening eyes. “You’re not laughing.”

I’m a mess inside. She doesn’t even seem to be looking at me but rather through me. Her glistening eyes serve as a window to her soul, and what I find is devastating. A beautifully broken soul who happens to be a mirror of mine.

You hurt her.

I feel no better than my father, wielding words like knives out of anger. While it might not leave the same kind of wounds as fists, words can do more damage than anything.

To think you’ve tried so hard to prevent yourself from becoming like him, only to realize you’re an exact copy.

She doesn’t meet my eyes as she sniffles.

Maybe even worse.

Based on the way I feel, it sure seems that way.

I pull her against me, this time kissing the top of her head. Except her usual sigh is absent. She doesn’t melt into me the way she always does, and my worry only intensifies.

I release her like she might catch on fire if I hold on to her for a second longer. The way she looks at me…it feels like she took her nails and sunk them straight into my chest.

She takes a large step back as she wraps her arms around her like a hug. I want to be the one to console her, but how do I make her feel better when I’m the one that hurt her in the first place?

My stomach rolls as I am unable to escape the sick feeling plaguing me.

She cuts me off. “The last thing I want to hear right now is how sorry you are. I can’t believe I came here thinking you needed my help, only to end up being blamed for all of this. What a joke. The only two people to blame here are you and your father. Him for being an absolute dick and you for following in his footsteps, lashing out at me instead of taking personal responsibility.”

I take a step forward, only for her to take a big step backward.

My hand drops back to my side. “Don’t go.”

She shakes her head as she takes another step away from me.

A punch to the face might have hurt less than the way she looks at me like I’m below her.

Her final blow lands exactly like it was meant to. I try to take a few deep breaths as I think of something to say, but I struggle to come up with anything worthy.

She takes advantage of my stunned state and retreats to a hidden exit out of the park without sparing me another glance. I’m torn between chasing after her and going back to the group. Leaving Iris alone after knowing how upset she is seems unconscionable, yet I can’t exactly leave the Yakuras in my father’s hands. Not after how hard Iris and I have worked to make this happen.

You can deal with Iris later once all of this is done.

It seems like the best idea, yet I struggle to make my way back to everyone. Each step away from Iris feels like I’m trudging through quicksand.

You did not spend two years of your life working on this deal to lose it now. Pull yourself together.

I return to the group, ignoring the weight pressing against my chest with each step away from Iris. For the sake of my future, I need to shelve my emotions and push through. It seems simple in theory until Mrs. Yakura asks where Iris is.

My father’s eyes gleam, and I can’t stomach looking at him without feeling an urge to shove him away from me.

Yakura offers.

I shake my head. “She didn’t want us to stop our tour for her.”

I cut him off. “I’m sure.”

If the look on Iris’s face is a small inkling of the pain she feels, I doubt she will for a long time.

I made sure of that.

41

IRIS

Did I expect Declan to attack me like he did after I went out of my way to drop everything and help him when he asked? No, but damn did the surprise hurt almost as much as the things he said about me.

Your job description says you’re supposed to alleviate problems, not cause them.

My throat closes up. How dare he talk about me and my job description like that. I can’t believe I spent three years of my life fixing his problems whenever they arose, only for him to cut me down to nothing the moment I messed up.

If you even did mess up.

Regardless if I did, Declan should have never spoken to me like that. He used my insecurities against me until I was left standing before him, feeling just as broken as ever before. I’ve been on the receiving end of his verbal lashings before but never like this. This one felt personal in a way I never want to experience again.

You can only get angry at yourself. You’re the one who let him in to begin with.

What was it that Declan used to always tell me?

Oh, right.

Learn to use your words as weapons because they can be stronger than any fist.

I feel like a fool for giving him the perfect ammunition to use against me. A tear slips free, and I swipe it away with the sleeve of my shirt.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity during the bus ride back to the hotel, I call the pilot and ask him to prepare the private jet for takeoff. I might be a failure, but I’m still a Kane, so Declan can fly commercial for all I care if he wants to get back to Chicago within the next day. I’m not staying in Dreamland for another hour after the way he spoke to me. The park feels too small for both of us right now, and I’d rather get the hell out of here. At least that way I can wrap my mind around everything he said without anyone trying to sabotage me, talk down to me, or make me cry. Knowing my husband, he might do all three if I stick around.

Running is what I’m good at. Staying and dealing with problems that hurt like a bitch on the other hand? Hard freaking pass.

Screw him and screw his stupid deal. I deserve more than him hurting me to save his own face, especially after all the sacrifices I made for him.

The bus drops us off at the hotel. I don’t know how long I have until Declan gets back to the room, so my panic forces me into action mode. If I’m lucky, Mr. Yakura will keep Declan and his father discussing contracts for hours. Maybe even days.

Except the thought doesn’t make me happy like I would expect.

Rather, it drives me to a fresh round of tears as I consider Declan choosing to secure the deal over coming after me. After everything he said, one would think he would want to fix things right away if they really mattered to him.

I’m so screwed up in the head about everything that I can’t even tell whether it’s selfish or not to wish for something like that.

I shake my sadness off and get to packing. The whole suitcase looks close to bulging but somehow my belongings stay put.

I throw my hotel key on the nightstand, write a quick note, and leave the room without looking back. Turns out my worries about Declan coming back to get me were misplaced since he never

bothered to show up. Instead of feeling relieved, I’m hit with another wave of despair.

Of course he didn’t show up. Declan’s priorities will always align with the company no matter the cost. He has been trained since a young age to work like that, and I was willing to be second best because his love is worth it.

Was. His love was worth it. Not anymore though. I could live without feeling like he took my heart and shattered it into a million pieces.

You’re nothing but a distraction that I don’t have time for right now.

He did apologize right after.

Yeah, so did my father after saying the ugliest things to my mom.

I learned from her mistakes and don’t plan on falling into the same trap.

You need to get out of here.

I hope Declan gets the deal. Not because I’m petty or mad, but because I want it to be worth everything he lost to get it—the option of earning my love included.

The concierge desk calls me a cab to take me to the private airport.

By the time I get there, the cabin door is open and the plane is ready for takeoff. I get out of the cab and stare at the plane. I’m hit with an ounce of doubt, wondering if I should turn around and go back to the hotel.

Are you really going to leave him? What if he needs you?

His voice from earlier comes back with a vengeance.

Every team has a leader, and it’s not you.

I shake my head, clearing any lingering doubts.

You’re not going back. Not after he spoke to you like that.

I roll my shoulders back, climb up the stairs to the jet, and take the seat across the aisle from our usual spot. The staff on the plane is limited to a single flight attendant who offers me drinks and snacks.

My stomach churns at the idea of eating anything at the moment, so I decline.

Somehow, I hold myself together during the entirety of the flight.

Harrison picks me up at the airport, and he is kind enough not to ask me where Declan is. I’m not sure I could handle his question without crying. The way he looks at me makes me wonder if he knows something happened, but he stays quiet as he helps me with my luggage. He drops me off at Cal’s place before taking off.

Up until this point, I’ve been numb and strictly on survival mode. Sure, I shed a couple of tears, but I didn’t truly allow myself to consider everything Declan said until I knock on Cal’s door.

He opens the door. “Hey. What are you doing back here so soon?”

Tears leak from my eyes before I have a chance to blink them away.

His arms wrap around me, holding me up so my legs don’t give out. My tears turn into full-body sobs. He listens to me while I recount everything that happened today, with him only interrupting to ask a couple of questions.

He doesn’t speak until I stop. “He’s an idiot for telling you all that crap. The only thing that was shitty about today was his attitude.”

I pull away and wince at the tear-stained spot on his shirt. “He said I failed.”

I sniffle. “He was so mad at me.”

My head hangs. “I made a mistake.”

Cal grabs my hand and drags me toward the couch. He disappears before returning with a tissue box, some headache medicine, and a glass of water.

His frown deepens as he assesses my face. “It’s the least I can do seeing as I’m the one that encouraged him to chase after you.”

I wince, remembering the moment Declan said the same thing. “I

—”

I take a deep breath. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

I sigh. “I can’t hide out here forever.”

He lets out a deep exhale. “No, but it might change the way you approach your marriage.”

He drops onto the couch next to me. “Everything is going to be okay.”

My throat bobs. “What if he doesn’t fix it?”

42

DECLAN

My father and I continue to compete for Mr. Yakura’s attention.

Rather than go with Iris’s advice, I choose to fight back harder, proving I’m the best candidate to bring Dreamland Tokyo to life. My father meets my every stride. He makes promises I’m not even sure he can uphold, although he appears mighty confident in the manner.

I can tell it’s getting messy. Mr. and Mrs. Yakura try to keep their smiles wide and their eyes bright, but I can only imagine how exhausting all this is.

Iris warned me to end it, but I didn’t listen.

No. I trampled all over her instead because I was too pissed to think clearly. After working so damn hard to earn her trust, I threw it away at the first sign of adversity. There is no one to blame but me.

Not my anger. Not my father. And definitely not Iris, although I’m sure I made her feel that way.

A dark cloud of emotion follows me through the rest of our walkthrough. I can’t shake the feeling that I made a huge mistake by continuing on with the rest of my day despite Iris’s advice. The more time that passes, the less I’m sure my choice to stay was the right one. My doubt has nothing to do with my father stealing Mr.

Yakura’s time, but more so to do with the idea of me hurting Iris and

letting her walk away. The urge is stronger than ever to leave them all behind so I can go find Iris.

I can’t stop thinking of the things I told her when I was angry. It was one thing to call her a distraction, but it’s a completely different issue to doubt her ability to do her job. I know she is capable of everything and more, yet I tore her down like she was worth nothing. I’m not proud of the way I told her how the plan she made was shitty. But nothing feels worse than telling her she failed. I chose my words out of anger without truly thinking of the impact they could have.

It’s not until we make our way back to the entrance of the park that Mr. Yakura pulls me aside. My father’s eyes track us even as we step out of earshot.

If you even have a wife to go back to.

His smile falters. “I expected as much. She was rather persuasive on the phone when she was setting up this entire trip for us. I almost felt bad for inviting your father along, knowing the two of you aren’t on the best of terms.”

Wait, what? “Repeat that.”

Mr. Yakura tilts his head. “The same day Iris called to schedule everything with my assistant. I wanted to make sure everyone could make it here for the announcement. It’s a shame Iris won’t be here though. I know how hard she worked on putting all this together and I hate the idea of leaving here without telling her that this decision had nothing to do with her.”

With the way my stomach rolls, I’m about one confession from throwing up. Iris had nothing to do with my father coming here.

Sure, she set up an automatic email telling people I would be visiting Dreamland, but my father knew about the trip way before she created that.

Fuck.

I made a colossal mistake. One done out of anger and irrationality, all because I thought I could blame everyone else for my failure except me.

Turns out my theories were right.”

Fuck him and fuck my father. If Mr. Yakura wants to work with him, then fine. If he wants to work with me, great, although I’m not too certain I even want to work with him anymore. Not with the way he played me. I’d rather work with honest people who aren’t out to manipulate me.

He holds his hands up. “I can tell this news upsets you. I promise I didn’t mean for you to take any offense. My intention was solely to better understand the family dynamics before I made a decision to work with either of you.”

His lips press together. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but your relationship with your father is complex. I can tell there is a lot of animosity between the two of you, although both of you try to pretend it doesn’t exist. It became more apparent once Iris left.”

If you had listened to her instead of shooting her down…

I take a few deep breaths to slow down my thoughts.

You’re a fucking idiot, Declan. A stupid idiot who drove away the one person in your corner because you wanted to prove you had what it took to finish a deal.

what it takes to be a leader one day. No one is discounting that, although I’m sure it might feel like that because of my decision.”

My temple throbs from the building pressure behind my skull. “I see.”

I take a deep breath to stop myself from snapping. “Go ahead.”

He releases a sigh as if he was actually nervous I would say no.

I try to stop myself from speaking but lose the ability to control my words. “What’s mine?”

He laughs. “Go do some soul searching and find out for yourself.

I can’t just give you all the answers. That’s the whole point of life.”

Mrs. Yakura calls his name, and he looks over his shoulder and holds up a finger.

As if this entire conversation can’t get any worse. “What?”

He winks.

I have no idea how he knows, but I can tell in his eyes that he suspects something.

I watch them disappear behind the gates, so I miss my father walking up to me.

His shoes clap after me. “Where are you going?”

He grabs my arm and I rip it out of his grasp.

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter what they think about me. Half of them think you’re a piece of shit and they still kiss your ass because of your last name. So long as I have my inheritance, their opinions of me aren’t worth shit.”

Mr. Yakura wanted me to consider my biggest fear and I was staring right at it.

I don’t want to become my father.

I’ve spent my entire life striving to be better than him, to the point of following in his same footsteps to usurp him. I spent far too much of my time trying to destroy him when I should have been focusing on what’s important.

I don’t plan on making the same mistake. Not anymore.

I return to the hotel expecting to find Iris in the room, but discover it empty of all her things. Did she get another room because she wanted to avoid me? After what I said, I wouldn’t blame her. But if she thinks I’m going to have her sleep somewhere else, she’s mistaken.

Couples fight. We can get through this. But first, I need her to listen to me.

I check my messages, but none are from Iris. My heart beats harder against my chest as I call her cellphone and it goes directly to voicemail.

Consider this my informal resignation letter. Formal notice will arrive on your desk this Monday at 9 a.m. —Iris

I crumple the paper before chucking it in the trash bin. I’m not letting her quit because we got into one fight about work, no matter how much she might want to. My words were harsh, uncalled for, and out of line, but that doesn’t mean she can quit without giving me a chance to make it up to her.

But first you need to find her.

43

DECLAN

Ican’t find Iris anywhere in the hotel. The only other place besides the park that I think she would go to is Rowan’s place.

I take a deep breath and knock against his door. The light above me turns on before the door swings open, revealing Zahra on the other side. She looks bright and cheery as always—like she gets her energy straight from the sun. I don’t know how my brother can stand it.

I turn around and walk down the steps, not wanting to waste any more time.

I speed up.

I don’t.

The sound of flip-flops smacking against the ground makes me grind my teeth together. I ignore Zahra calling after me, only to be stopped by my brother on his way back from his run.

He pops an earbud out as he scowls at me. “What are you doing here?”

Zahra stops beside me, trying to catch her breath. “Has anyone told you that you have very long legs?”

Rowan raises a brow at me. “Care to explain why you are running away from my girlfriend?”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t have time to chat. I’ve wasted enough of it as it is.”

I take a step forward. “Do you know where she is?”

My jaw clenches. “Fine. Speak.” I look down at Zahra.

My short fuse burns down to nothing as I follow them back into the home I spent most of my youth vacationing at. The memories slam into me as I take in Mom’s porch swing, still hanging in the same spot years later.

Of course it is.

I ignore her as I walk through the front door. The place hasn’t changed besides a fresh paint job and more modern furniture.

There’s still a doorframe by the kitchen that has our height marks over the years, with me being the tallest.

The corners of his lips lift in a silent reply.

She pours me a glass before making one for herself.

Rowan looks over at Zahra and she only grins. “I lied when I said I had something to tell you. I was only hoping to stall you for as long as it took until Rowan got back so you both could talk this out, once and for all.”

Rowan shakes his head as he looks up at the ceiling. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

I take a sip of my water. “Interesting.” Safe to say Zahra probably thinks I’m the biggest asshole around.

He grabs a glass and fills it to the top with water. “How did the walkthrough go?”

He sighs. “Love isn’t conditional. I know Father made us believe that, but just because I get angry at you and vice versa doesn’t mean I don’t love you or care about you. Even if you do act like an idiot most of the time.”

No one can control falling in love, and he happened to find it in the last place I expected. It’s time I accepted it and moved on for

both our sakes. I’ve been punishing him for seeking out what makes him feel fulfilled, all because I felt like he betrayed me. I held on to the idea of him abandoning me like everyone else to manage my father and all the expectations that come with the company. Rather than support him, I held his happiness against him just like my father did countlessly throughout our lives.

You’re no better than him.

It is a sour feeling to realize the man I have spent my whole life resenting is the one I am slowly becoming.

It’s not too late to start making better decisions.

My mouth feels dry no matter how much water I drink. “I’ve made some mistakes.”

Rowan blinks but stays quiet.

Instead of letting you become your own person, I was trying to shove you back into a mold you didn’t fit into anymore. It was selfish of me, and I’m sorry.”

There isn’t much else I need to say. From now on, I plan on being better. The end.

I stand. “I better get going.”

Rowan grabs a set of keys from a bowl on the counter. “Let me drive you to the airport.”

He chuckles. “Iris took the jet back to Chicago earlier.”

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Iris is in Chicago right now.

Why would she stay? You never gave her a good reason to after the way you spoke to her.

I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I fucked up.”

Well, shit. This is going to be an interesting car ride.

Does groveling include mentioning to Iris how I rode a commercial flight for the first time in a decade solely so I could get to her sooner?

Because if so, then the middle economy seat I was subjected to buying at the last minute was worth every excruciating minute, seeing as I was stuck between a toddler who wouldn’t stop talking and a mother holding a crying infant.

My ears are still ringing by the time I make it back to our house.

Harrison opens my door, and I get out. I don’t think to ask him about Iris until I walk into a silent, dark house.

No one answers back. I search the whole house twice before I come to the conclusion that she isn’t here.

I dial Cal’s phone number next, but he doesn’t pick up.

Me: Is Iris with you?

He doesn’t answer right away, and I’m not interested in sitting around. I might as well drive to his place while I wait.

Less than thirty minutes later, I park outside his apartment and decide to call him again. He finally answers, but his voice is gruffer than usual.

I see Iris got to him first.

A door shuts in the background. “She’s sleeping.”

Both of you are too emotional to deal with one another right now.”

She belongs in our house no matter how upset she might feel right now. Couples talk issues out. They don’t need third-party mediators to handle their shit for them.

Cal’s doorman holds the door open for me. I press the elevator button and wait, tapping my loafer against the floor until the doors slide open. The ride to the top is quick.

I knock my fist against Cal’s front door. “Open up.”

I block it with my foot and throw it back open. “Where is she?”

He shoves me, and I stumble back.

I blink. Cal pushed me? He doesn’t touch anyone, much less throw his weight around because he is pissed. The only time I’ve ever seen him do such a thing was on the ice during high school hockey games, and it was a part of his sport.

He jabs a finger against my chest. “She doesn’t want to deal with you right now.”

My jaw tightens. “I made a mistake.”

—all because you care more about your job than the person you claim to love. So all I can say is congratulations, Declan. You spent your whole life protecting us from our father, only to become just like him.”

He salutes me with his middle finger before slamming the door in my face.

Nothing feels worse than returning to the house without Iris. Defeat presses against my shoulders, making each step feel more difficult than the last. I drag myself inside the dark house that is as silent as a tomb. What used to bring me comfort only fills me with dread now, especially knowing what I did to earn it. I’m stuck replaying my brother’s words to fill the silence.

You called her a failure like every other disappointing fuck in her life.

You belittled your wife until she felt as worthless as you.

You spent your whole life protecting us from our father, only to become just like him.

It’s the last one that hurts the most. To hear how Cal thinks of me…

It makes me want to rage. Not because of the sacrifices I’ve made, but because he is right. If I don’t check myself, I will become just like my father. It’s not like he started out as a cold bastard either. It took him time, and heartbreak, to get to a dark place faster than most.

You can be different. It’s not too late.

I release a deep breath as I move toward the kitchen. After my flight from hell and my brother’s conversation, I have no energy to cook anything, but my grumbling stomach demands some kind of nutrition.

I sift through the pantry, turning over different items before settling on Iris’s favorite.

Pasta straight out of a box.

The pressure in my chest intensifies as I consider all the times she cooked for me over the weeks. It might not have been gourmet, but I didn’t care so long as she kept me company.

Company I no longer have because I drove her away.

I set up two placemats without thinking much of it. It takes me a whole ten minutes before I realize my mistake, and my throat tightens to the point of difficulty breathing. I try to eat but everything tastes like cardboard to me.

The churning in my gut gets progressively worse as I dump my half-finished plate of pasta in the sink and go upstairs. No matter where I go, I can’t escape my mistakes. Even my damn bedroom isn’t safe. The memories of Iris assault me the moment I enter, with her perfume lingering in the air.

Her hair tie on the dresser. Some random heel left abandoned in a corner during a hookup. A framed photo of us on our wedding day, with her smiling up at me while I scowl at the camera.

I grip my chest, wishing for the tightness to stop. My hands tremble and I take a few deep breaths, trying to curb the anxiety attack before it starts.

You never deserved her.

No. I didn’t yet I wanted her anyway.

I miss my wife. She belongs next to me, complaining about how I like to cuddle although she secretly loves it. I’d do anything to hear her groan about my alarm clock in the morning or for the grumpy kiss I get before I crawl out of bed to go work out.

I slide under my comforter after my shower and stare up at the ceiling, surrounded by the smell of Iris’s coconut body wash. No position feels comfortable without her.

You’re fucked.

I turn over for the third time and stare at the cactus she bought me two years ago.

Don’t be a prick.

I’ll try. Just for her.

44

DECLAN

Iarrive at Cal’s doorstep at 8 a.m. with a coffee in hand, ready to talk to Iris. I’m running on limited sleep and a lot of caffeine after an endless night of tossing and turning.

My brother opens the door wearing a suit and tie, which is out of the norm given he doesn’t even have a job to go to.

My mouth drops open. “What?”

He laughs. “Maybe you should check your email.”

I frown as I pull out my phone and scan my inbox. “You’re kidding me.”

He actually grins. “Are you giving me a ride to work or not?”

Did you really think you could talk to her the way you did and

expect her to go into work for two weeks?”

My molars smash together. “I want to talk to her.”

I slam the door in my brother’s face and turn the deadbolt before he has a chance to get in.

I throw his keys on the side table before following the music straight toward the kitchen. Iris’s eyes immediately latch onto mine.

She stares down at it like it might be poisonous. “You came here to bring me coffee?”

She only scowls at my joke. I refuse to lose hope, although the way she looks at me makes me question it for a moment.

The house is too quiet and the bathroom is far too clean. Even pasta doesn’t taste the same without you cooking it.”

Her eyes shut. “No.”

I take advantage of her guard being down and walk up to her.

Her chin fits perfectly within the palm of my hand, and I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Please. I’m miserable without you.”

She blinks up at me. “I’m not ready.”

My chest aches from her confession. Instead of lingering on the pain festering inside of me like sepsis, I choose to ignore it. “You signed a contract.”

You yourself called it a game.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Her eyes dart away, and it’s written clear as day across her face.

That’s exactly what she thought.

I release a bitter laugh. “Go ahead and take your time, but nothing is going to change the fact that you and I are inevitable.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of self-control to step away from her, but nothing good will come if I keep pushing her on this. She wants her time, and I plan on giving it to her. So long as it happens according to my rules.

Cal drops off Iris’s official resignation letter at 9 a.m., exactly like Iris promised. After everything I went through to prevent it from happening, she is leaving anyway.

All because of you.

Cal hovers in front of me.

I look up from her letter. “Yes?”

I clutch onto her resignation letter with my two fists. “I plan on it.”

He raises a brow and motions toward the paper.

He grins. “Watching you struggle to cope with all this is far too entertaining to pass up, especially given how miserable you made Iris.”

His brows jump, and I realize my break in character. I asked him to go.

Ever since I entered the office, I’ve been stuck in a constant state of heartburn. No amount of meetings or busy work can steal my mind away from the conversation I had with Iris this morning.

I pass by Cal’s desk instinctively, half expecting her to be there, only to remember she won’t be returning. I’m so used to her being around that I’m not sure how to handle her absence.

He shoots me a look as he drops into the one opposite of Iris’s seat. “She’s not coming back. Saving her chair won’t change that.”

He shrugs. “I’m just asking.”

My fists clench against my lap. “I’m not doing this with you.”

I grab an ink pen to sign her resignation letter, but stop myself.

My hand hovers above the blank signature spot.

Cal clears his throat. “If you really love her, then this needs to be done.”

He flips me off. “This job shouldn’t be the thing that keeps you together just like it shouldn’t be the reason that drives you apart. So, if you want a chance at a successful marriage, you need to let her go as your employee.”

I press the pen against the page and sign my name beside hers.

His face softens. “It’s not too late to get her back.”

I pull out my phone before I can stop myself. I’m not going to go back on my deal to give Iris space, but that doesn’t mean I need to be silent while doing so.

I pull up our chat and text her a single word to express how I feel.

Me: Litost1.

I include a photo of her empty chair to express the suffering I feel at the reminder of how lonely I am without her.

She doesn’t respond. I didn’t expect her to, but it still makes my chest heavy anyway.

I try to get back to work, but my mind keeps drifting back to my relationship. My brain can’t seem to concentrate on any actual work, no matter how hard I try. Instead of pushing myself, I shut my computer off and spend the rest of my workday thinking of how exactly I can get Iris back.

Cal’s words from earlier seem to echo in my head.

She loves you despite all the reasons she shouldn’t.

But what if I gave her all the reasons she should?

1  Noun, Czech: A state of agony or torment.

45

IRIS

Ispend my first vacation day doing absolutely nothing. It should be incredible and everything I hoped it would be, but I can’t get past the fact that I quit my job. And in a big way, I feel like I quit Declan too.

I stare up at the ceiling for what feels like hours, trying to decide what to do. The urge to check in on Cal is almost as strong as the desire to reply to Declan’s message. How could I not after he sent me a photo of my chair and a word that translates into something along the lines of feeling miserable.

I don’t know what to do with all the feelings hitting me all at once. While I feel angry at Declan for how he acted at Dreamland, I feel equally guilty to know he is suffering because of me. I’m not the kind of person who likes holding grudges. They make me nauseous, irritable, and anxious to the point of needing a Xanax.

I try to distract myself by updating my resume. I’d rather make myself useful instead of wallowing in my feelings, although the task is more emotionally draining than I thought as I review my job history as Declan’s assistant. I stop scrolling at my least favorite section of my resume titled Previous Education. It remains empty, with only a mention of a high school diploma I earned.

The shame I usually feel knowing I never went to college isn’t present anymore, which shocks me. I spent years avoiding conversations with other employees about my degrees and what my qualifications were. My self-consciousness about my lack of experience plagued me, so I worked to show everyone around me that I wasn’t a failure.

Declan’s previous words hurt for a multitude of reasons, but maybe the biggest one has nothing to do with him. Because deep down, I am a failure, but not in the way people assume of me.

I failed to face my fears. Instead, I spent years tying my worth to my position, and now that I don’t have it, I feel lost. I put off going to school and played it safe. And even when I took a risk and applied to the HR department, it was still me trying to stay within my comfort zone.

I avoided going back to school because I was scared of failure.

And instead of facing that fear, I fell into a rut. One that has been going on ever since I graduated high school at nineteen. The same one that will continue to happen so long as I keep allowing my past insecurities to rule over my current decisions.

You’re not that girl anymore. You don’t need to prove your worth to anyone but yourself.

That’s the thing. I am finally ready to prove that the only limitations I have are the ones I set for myself.

I close my browser and open up a new one so I can search for local universities. If the old me could see me now, she might have a heart attack. Never did I think I would willingly apply for a college degree.

You think that would give her a heart attack? You married your boss for an inheritance that isn’t even yours.

I shove thoughts of Declan aside. If I want to get anything done today, the last thing I should be doing is thinking about him, no matter how much I want to.

I pull up a fresh Excel document and get started on a new pros and cons list focused on schools, programs, and tuition costs. After that, I create a task list of things I need to do before I can even apply, including studying for the SATs.

By the time Cal comes home from his first day of work, I’m sure of one thing: I’m going back to school.

My phone buzzes with a new message. I swipe it off the counter and unlock the screen to find it’s from Declan.

Declan: Saudade1 .

A photo loads of our kitchen island. My placemat is set up beside his as if I might show up at any second to join him while he eats his pasta. This is the third night in a row he’s sent me a similar photo, each with a different word all following the same kind of theme.

Longing. Sadness. Regret.

Maybe Declan isn’t the only one suffering from saudade. From the way my chest aches as I obsess over his text, I’m hit with the urge to go home.

Home.

Shit. Since when did his house start feeling like home?

Since you started falling in love with him.

My throat tightens, and I struggle to take deep breaths.

I sigh. “Yes.”

What if he messes up again?

What if he is only chasing after me because he wants to earn his inheritance?

What if I choose to fall in love with him despite all the warning signs, knowing he could hurt me all over again?

My head is a mess with questions that have no real answers.

I avoid eye contact as I answer, “No.”

Now I’m doubting everything. If this is what love feels like, then I don’t want it because it really fucking hurts.” My eyes fill with tears.

Cal pulls me into a hug. “Everything is going to be okay.”

After my breakdown yesterday, I decide to visit the one person who understands me most. Maybe my mom can help me get a better understanding of the emotions plaguing me. Although she doesn’t know the whole story about my marriage, she knows enough about relationships to help me understand mine.

Her classroom hasn’t changed over the years. It still smells like old paint with a hint of glue, and it reminds me of afternoons spent coloring while she ran her after-school program.

She laughs as she pats one of the classroom benches. “Sit.” She passes me a blank coloring page and a pack of colored pencils.

This is how things always worked between us. Color and confess she would always call it, seeing as she always got me to break down eventually.

I sigh.

My head drops as I stare down at my hands. “Declan and I got into a fight last week.”

The few wrinkles by her eyes tighten. “He said some things that hurt you.”

I give her an abridged version of our fight, mainly focusing on our issues with work and how that bled into our personal life.

She puts her hand over mine, stopping my coloring. “It’s a normal fear after everything you’ve witnessed between your father and me, but you need to understand that couples fight. It’s a part of any healthy relationship. That doesn’t mean the other person should ever talk down to you or intentionally hurt you, but people make mistakes. This isn’t going to be the first or last time Declan says something he doesn’t mean in the heat of the moment. But so long as he is sorry—and I mean truly sorry—then you need to learn how to forgive him.”

She gives my hand a squeeze. “Learning how to forgive is just as important as asking for it in the first place.”

1  Noun, Portuguese: A feeling of longing, melancholy, desire, and nostalgia.

46

DECLAN

Like clockwork, I send Iris another message in the morning. I attach a photo of us at the Botanic Garden with a word that describes the exact yearning I feel for her.

Me: Sehnsucht1.

I stare at my phone screen for far longer than I should, waiting for a reply that never comes. My heart shrinks in my chest with each ignored message.

You can either get upset or move forward with the plan.

I take a deep breath, shut down my computer, and lock up my office.

Harrison and I drive around all of Chicago as I search shelter after shelter for the perfect dog. Iris was specific about her requirements, and I don’t plan on screwing them up. My enthusiasm dwindles with each shelter that comes up empty, and by the tenth one, I’m losing hope.

I release a heavy sigh. This is an integral part of my plan, and I’m already failing. How hard can it be to find a big, fluffy dog who will follow Iris around everywhere?

Damn near impossible it seems.

I pull up my phone and look up the next shelter on my list. “Let’s try one more and then I’ll call it a day.”

Harrison drives me to the last one. It’s not in the best part of town, so I don’t plan on staying long since Harrison and the Maybach might not be here by the time I get out.

A bell rings above me as I enter the building. The only employee in the place doesn’t look up from her magazine.

She blows a bubble with her gum before popping it. “We’re closed.”

I check the sign on the front. “You’re still open for another thirty minutes, so try again.”

Her eyes widen before narrowing, as if she recognizes me from somewhere but can’t pin down where. “How can I help you?”

The last ounce of hope drains from me. I’ll regroup and try again tomorrow once I’ve had a good night’s rest. Or at least as good as I can get with Iris on the other side of Chicago, sleeping in my brother’s apartment.

I knock my hand against the counter. “I see. Thanks for your time then.”

I open my mouth to say no, but I think better of it.

You did drive all this way. You might as well go check out the place while you’re here.

She shows me to the back room. Kennels line the walls, stuffed with dogs and other animals all waiting for a new home. Some cower in the corner of their cage as I walk past them while others hiss or bark in my direction.

A dog barks from the farthest cage.

He’s probably a bit anxious about being separated from everyone else.”

Jesus. I take a step toward the final cage. Two dark eyes look up at me, barely observable from behind a mop of white and gray hair covering him.

She comes over and checks the nameplate. “They think he’s an Old English Sheepdog. Hard to tell without DNA testing.”

He looks old all right. Based on the card, his estimated date of birth was more than five years ago. That’s practically ancient in dog years.

She shrugs before unlocking the cage. The dog barrels out like a bullet before slamming into me. I try to catch myself but end up falling flat on my ass as the dog licks my entire face from chin to hairline. It’s absolutely repulsive, yet I can’t help laughing when he repeats the gesture on the other side of my face, leaving no area unlicked.

The dog whimpers as if he can understand the conversation. He takes a seat on my lap like a small dog, only to crush my cock beneath his weight.

I push him off me and stand. “No one wanted to adopt him?”

Great. Mystery solved.

He blinks up at me like he silently promises to be on his best behavior. I’m having a hard time believing him based on the way he drools all over my shoes like he wants to make them his new favorite chew toy.

I’m now the proud father of a clingy dog who will most likely destroy my home before Iris ever has a chance to come back to it.

Perfect. Just perfect.

The next day, I show up to work with the dog who has yet to be named. After he destroyed my favorite loafer while I was out on my evening run, he can’t be trusted around nice things. Bringing him to the office is a temporary solution. One I need to fix soon once I find the appropriate doggy day care to train him.

The dog barks in reply. He tries to break free from his leash attached to my desk but fails.

The dog barks again in agreement.

He rubs his face. “Shit.”

My eyes narrow. “Why do you care?”

I glare at him. “I thought you were angry with me.”

He shrugs. “Like you need any more self-esteem boosting.”

1  Noun, German: Longing, desire, yearning, or craving.

47

IRIS

When Cal asked me to go on an errand with him, I thought he meant a quick trip to the grocery store. We have long passed the grocery store and any sign of civilization.

He laughs. “It’s been thirty minutes. Max.”

A lightning bolt cuts across the sky. “It’s about to rain.”

He pulls over and unlocks the doors. “Get out.”

I don’t move a muscle. Cal hops out of the car and circles around the hood to open my door. “Come on.”

My comment goes unanswered as Cal jumps into his car and does a dramatic U-turn away from me. His tires squeal as he accelerates down the road, leaving me choking on car exhaust.

The dick sends me straight to voicemail.

I start talking the moment it beeps to leave a message. “You better have a good reason for ditching me like this—”

My rant is cut off by a car driving down the road. I’ve seen enough crime documentaries to know nothing good comes from hitchhiking with a stranger. I search the perimeter for somewhere to hide, except I’m surrounded by flat land and a few pieces of garbage. “Fuck. Cal, I’m going to kill you tonight in your sleep.

Dead or alive.”

As the car gets closer, I realize it isn’t a car at all, but a white minivan. One that looks awfully similar to those serial killer vans everyone warns women to stay away from. My heart pounds harder against my chest, fighting for a way to get out.

I cross my fingers and whisper, “Please don’t be an ax murderer.

Please don’t be an ax murder—”

I startle at the sound of a horn followed by a loud bark.

My eyes widen at the sound of Declan’s voice. “No fucking way.”

I bite down on my tongue and a metallic taste immediately floods my mouth.

I guess this is really happening.

Declan steps out of the vehicle wearing his best suit. “I have somewhere I need to be, so if you want a ride, you’re going to need to hop in.” He leans against the hood of the car like this isn’t the weirdest situation ever.

I open my mouth to ask why Cal set me up, only to be cut off by a clap of lightning.

He raises a brow. “So, are we going or do you want to get electrocuted?”

I stomp my way toward the passenger side and open the door.

He doesn’t answer me as he shuts my door with a small smile.

I check out the back seat and find a massive dog attached to some kind of animal car seat. He is covered in fur from head to paws, and I can barely make out his eyes due to his giant poof. I’m surprised he can even fit in the back seat based on the sheer size of him.

The dog barks with a reply.

I’m not even going to touch that comment. Instead, I search the directions for the nearest Starbucks on my phone. “Take me here.”

He completely ignores my map as he turns in the opposite direction.

I’m thrown back into the memory of the last time he asked for ten minutes but gave me ten words instead.

I am falling in love with you, Iris Elizabeth Kane.

The memory makes me compliant enough to keep quiet as he drives us down the road. Gray clouds part above us. Rain falls against the windshield, and Declan is forced to turn on the wipers to see clearly.

The dog whimpers at the sound of thunder. “What made you get a dog?”

My mouth drops open, and no words come out.

A laugh bursts out of me before I can swallow it. When I made up the story of the dog, I never really thought Declan would actually go out and find one for me. Let alone adopt one that is the size of a bear.

My vision turns misty. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

The rest of the ride is a bumpy one. I’m grateful when Declan stops the van before I throw up from carsickness. He parks us in front of an old farmhouse with boarded-up windows and a porch that looks about ready to collapse. With the way he gets out of the car without an umbrella, I could almost forget it’s raining.

He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by it as he opens my door and holds out his hand. “Come with me.”

I blink up at him. “It’s raining.”

Raindrops splash against my skin. Declan leads me away from the car, although we don’t make it very far before he stops in front of the worn-down porch. Water clings to his hair, skin, and clothes. I’m not sure I look any better with the way my T-shirt is plastered against my body. I’m tempted to seek shelter on the porch, but the wood looks warped and decayed from years of neglect.

His hand gripping onto mine tugs and rotates my stack of rings until they both slip off.

An unbearable tightness in my chest intensifies as I check out my ringless finger. “Wait—”

Declan pulls out a ring box from his jacket and gets down on one knee. His face remains a blank canvas, completely devoid of any visible emotion as he looks up at me.

My heart pounds against my chest as he latches onto my left hand.

Oh. My. God.

No way. There is no freaking way he is recreating the story I made up.

Right?

Wrong. He pops open the ring box, and I gasp. Even without the sun shining down on it, I can tell he bought the most beautiful emerald ring I’ve ever seen.

His hand holding onto mine trembles, and I know it has nothing to do with the rain. I give him a reassuring squeeze. He mumbles something that sounds like here goes nothing, and my chest caves in on itself at his display of vulnerability.

—if it’s even possible. I promise to work every damn day to make sure you don’t regret marrying someone as miserable as me. Because when I’m with you, I’m not miserable at all. You make me happy in a way that makes me afraid to blink just in case it all disappears.”

The vulnerability of his words tugs at every single one of my heartstrings.

A family. A home. I want it all. These are my terms and conditions, take it or leave it because I’m not open to negotiations.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he looks up at me. Emotions flicker across his face like a mood ring, switching from happiness to fear. The heavy rain slowly turns to a light sprinkle as I stare at him.

To marry him again means to trust him with my heart, knowing he can break it. It means giving him a fair chance to learn from his mistakes and become a better man in light of them. Marriage isn’t easy but neither is life, and I can’t imagine doing either without Declan. Luckily, I don’t have to.

My legs tremble from the smile on his face as he slides the new ring up my finger. The diamonds surround the green gemstone like sun rays, shining as the sun finally beams down on us.

I laugh. “Serves you right after everything you put me through.”

He stands and pulls me into his arms. His lips slam against mine, stealing my ability to breathe as he kisses me with every ounce of love in him. Declan’s embrace feels like coming home. My toes tingle and my chest warms, and I get all excited as his lips press softly against mine in a silent apology.

Our kiss goes on for what feels like hours. By the time we break apart, both of us are soaked to the bone although the rain has officially stopped.

The way he looks at me sends another shiver down my spine. I take a step back, knowing what a look like that means.

I clear my throat. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

He smiles. “Do you like it?”

I take a step toward a stunning greenhouse. Unlike the house behind us, the greenhouse looks like someone recently came to take care of it. The spotless glass shines, giving me a good idea of the empty space inside.

I would need to buy hundreds of plants to fill it. Maybe even a thousand.

Declan pulls me against his chest so he can lay his chin on my shoulder. “I thought about letting you pick a place, but when my real estate agent sent me this listing, I knew it was the one. I drove out the same day to check it out and put an offer on it.”

Declan needs to come with a warning sign because I’m susceptible to swooning whenever he is around.

His arms tighten around me. “Want to check it out?”

He grins as he steps away from me and opens the door. I spend the next five minutes exploring the place, cataloging just how much space I would have.

He’s nervous.

Anxious Declan is my favorite Declan because it’s the version of him no one else knows about. He tries so hard to hide it from everyone else, but around me, he doesn’t mind dropping his guard.

It makes my chest all warm and tingly to know he trusts me enough to share that part of himself. Because to someone like him who grew up thinking emotions were weaknesses, it probably means so much more than I could ever imagine.

I walk over to him and wrap my hands around his neck. “I love it so much.”

I smack his wet chest. “You can’t buy people’s love like that.”

His eyes twinkle. “I don’t want other people’s love. I want yours.”

He blinks.

I stand on the tips of my toes so my lips hover over his.

His eyes shut as if he is experiencing a sensory overload.

He kisses the top of my forehead. The pain etched into his face guts me, knowing he spent thirty-six years of his life believing he

was unlovable—all because of his shitty, abusive father.

I cup his cheek. “I will always love you. Today. Tomorrow.

Forever.”

My chest clenches. “And I’ll say it every day until you finally believe it.”

I trace his wedding band with the tip of my finger. “It’s a good thing all we have is time.”

1  Arabic: “You bury me.”

EPILOGUE

IRIS

One Year Later

I walk up to Declan’s office door and knock a fist against the wood like I’ve done hundreds of times before. His deep rumble of a voice makes it past the door, and I open it before he has a chance to protest.

My legs wobble, and I nearly roll my ankle before righting myself.

He stands and helps me into my chair before I do something unfortunate like land face-first against the carpet. The way he acts ever since I announced I was pregnant makes me feel like he won’t rest until I’m permanently protected in bubble wrap.

day to an empty closet and a fireplace burning with all my prized possessions.

He presses his lips against the top of my head. “How’s my favorite girl?”

I almost correct him but hold back.

Don’t ruin the surprise.

He laughs as he takes a seat in his chair across from me. “What did the doctor say about your morning sickness?”

Declan chuckles. My heart beats harder against my chest as he grabs the paper bag.

He halts right before opening it, and I nearly groan.

Calm down before he gets suspicious.

Planning a surprise around Declan’s back is hard work. He has made it a point to come to every doctor’s appointment, so I had to work my magic with his assistant to book his schedule solid. Poor Jeff had to deal with his anger all morning.

I’ll make sure he gets a nice bonus for his sacrifice.

I shake my head. “Nope. Everything is all good, although I gained ten pounds already.”

His grin widens. My eyes narrow, which only makes him laugh.

I blink. “Even when you’re CEO?”

He shrugs. “To be fair, it was a really good advertisement.”

My head drops back as I laugh. When I come back up for air, Declan’s gaze is zoned in on me like a spotlight.

His bright eyes match the smile on his face. “I miss having you around here.”

My chest tightens, and I’m hit with an overwhelming wave of affection. “Jeff is good at his job.”

I stand and walk around his desk. He rolls his chair back and tugs me onto his lap. His hands wrap around me, with one landing on my bump.

The content look on his face does something crazy to my heart rate. He leans forward to kiss me, but my growling stomach makes him pause.

His brows tug together. “Did you eat yet?”

I wince. “No.”

He extracts me from his lap before helping me back in my seat.

Instead of returning to his chair, he grabs the takeout bag and rips it open.

I roll my eyes. “Excuse me for being in the mood to celebrate.”

out against the white pot.

He turns toward me with wide eyes. “We’re having a girl?”

I nod with a smile. “I found out today.”

Declan hauls me into his arms and kisses me hard. His arms lock around my body, holding me up while he ravages my mouth. My chest feels close to combusting with the love he showers me in. He doesn’t stop kissing me until my growling stomach reminds us of the third little person in the room who is hungry.

He pulls away. I open my mouth to protest, but stop myself as Declan gets down on his knees in front of me.

He kisses my stomach, and I nearly melt from the sweetness of it all. My eyes fill with tears. One leaks out and makes a trail down my face.

THE END

Want to read more about Mr. and Mrs. Kane? Don’t miss out on

Declan and Iris’s extended epilogue. Click here to download.

THANK YOU!

If you enjoyed Terms and Conditions, please consider leaving a review! Any review, however short, helps spread the word about my books to other readers.

Join my Bandini Babes Facebook reader group for all things romance and bookish updates.

ALSO BY LAUREN ASHER

Throttled

Dive into my Formula 1 world with Noah and Maya, a brother’s rival forbidden romance.

Collided

A story about two friends who complete a naughty bucket list together.

Wrecked

An enemies-to-lovers forced proximity romance featuring a Formula 1 bad boy and his PR agent.

Redeemed

If you like fake relationship romances with a grumpy hero, check out Redeemed.

The Fine Print

A grumpy-sunshine office romance featuring a fairy tale theme park.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Like Declan with Iris, I’m fortunate to have the best team supporting me with the release of Terms and Conditions. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

To my readers—Thank you. Without your love for The Fine Print, this sequel would have never happened. I appreciate each one of you that read, review, and rave about my books to your friends, family, and followers. Your love for my characters and my way of telling stories has changed my life in the best way possible. Feel free to send me an email or a DM whenever. I read every single one.

Mom—Thanks for always reminding me to water my plants while writing this book. They appreciate your dedication to helping them survive while I was deep in the writing cave.

Mr. Smith—You might not be a billionaire, but I love you anyway.

DP—You might be wondering what the hell is happening as you read this acknowledgment in the middle of a bookstore. Surprise! I write romance books. Don’t feel obligated to buy this copy though.

Erica—Solely thanking you for editing this book would be an extreme understatement. Your friendship, pep talks, and support during one of the hardest years of my life means the world to me.

Thank you for making my days brighter.

Becca—Thank you for believing in me and my story even when I forget to do the same. You push me to be the best author version of myself, and I can’t wait to continue growing with you.

Mary—To one of my very first book friends and the person I text most in the world (Sorry Mr. Smith), thank you. Your talent speaks for itself, and I can gush about your kickass graphic design skills for hours, but I’ll save it for a voice note.

Kendra—Thank you for helping me bring this book to the next level. You truly are a gem in this book community and I’m grateful to have your support. From sending me song choices to spreading the word about my books, I can’t express enough gratitude for everything you’ve done for me.

Elizabeth T—Thank you for being a part of this project as my sensitivity reader. Your feedback and brainstorming with me really helped bring Iris and her family to life.

My beta readers (Amy, Mary, Nura, Mia, Elizabeth, Kendra)—I appreciate each of you helping me make this story come to life.

Thank you for putting up with my tight deadlines, imposter syndrome, and constant questions and revisions.

Jos—Your text messages and voice notes always make me smile, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life. Thanks for putting up with my terrible texting habits.

My Bandini Babes—Thanks for making my group feel like a second home. I enjoy getting to know each of you by name, favorite F1 driver, and book boyfriend you want to claim.

To the whole team at Valentine PR—Thank you for helping me make this release possible.

To those two lines from Taylor Swift’s Illicit Affairs about a secret language—Thanks for existing. You helped inspire Declan and Iris’s non-translatable word game.

Document Outline

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Playlist

Dedication

1. Iris

2. Declan

3. Iris

4. Iris

5. Declan

6. Iris

7. Declan

8. Iris

9. Iris

10. Declan

11. Iris

12. Declan

13. Iris

14. Iris

15. Declan

16. Iris

17. Declan

18. Iris

19. Iris

20. Iris

21. Iris

22. Declan

23. Declan

24. Iris

25. Declan

26. Iris

27. Iris

28. Iris

29. Declan

30. Iris

31. Iris

32. Iris

33. Declan

34. Iris

35. Iris

36. Declan

37. Iris

38. Declan

39. Iris

40. Declan

41. Iris

42. Declan

43. Declan

44. Declan

45. Iris

46. Declan

47. Iris

Epilogue

Thank you!

Also by Lauren Asher

Acknowledgments