29. Declan

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