The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires Book 1)

Fuck. That’s all I can say to myself as I walk all the way back to my office. Every time I think I have my urges under control, the memory of Zahra’s lips against mine has my body reacting all over again.

It was a bad idea to ask Zahra to stay after the meeting. Things escalated when she talked back to me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It should have been a huge turn-off. I’ve never been attracted to anyone who disrespects authority, so I’m not sure what about Zahra draws me in. Instead of listening to the rational voice in my head earlier, I ran face-first into the biggest red flag without blinking.

I don’t know what it is about her that stops me from thinking. Threats bounce off her and my glares only make her laugh harder. And after the way she treated me in the meeting, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kick her out of Dreamland or fuck her until she apologized for how she spoke to me.

And the noises she made when my tongue glided across hers… Fuck. I groan as blood rushes to my cock again.

I shove my hands in my hair and tug. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! 

Declan would string me by the balls on the Castle’s flagpole if he found out I kissed an employee. I consider all my options on how I could get ahead of this impending HR shitstorm but there’s no way around it. In the end, I deserve whatever lawsuit Zahra wants to hit me with. I’m the one who kissed her. No matter how she reacted to my touch, it’s my responsibility to remain professional and hold myself to a higher standard.

Instead of going back to my office, I head toward my house at the back corner of Dreamland. I pull out my phone and call my pilot, wanting to get the hell out of here for a while before I do something else that could jeopardize the best shot I have at succeeding with this project.

The kiss I shared with Zahra revealed just how dangerous our attraction is, and I need to stay as far away from her as humanly possible. She’s nothing but dangerous. For my plan. For my future. And for the voice in my head wondering how explosive everything else would be between us if we hadn’t stopped.

My first twenty-four hours back in Chicago have been anything but pleasant. From my driver making me late after struggling to change a flat tire to some random employee spilling coffee all over my shirt, everything has gone to shit.

Monday meetings only add to my growing irritation. I feel as if I’m wasting time sitting through procedural meetings when my time could be better spent at Dreamland.

I rotate my cufflink, twisting the cool metal between my fingers. Declan takes the helm after my father’s usual run-through. My brother speaks about our numbers while Iris handles the PowerPoint presentation. Declan’s assistant is pretty in an understated kind of way. Her wavy dark hair is held back with a bright-colored headband, bringing out the warm tones of her brown skin.

She and Declan work together seamlessly. Despite her younger age, she’s damn good at what she does. He even lets her answer some questions, which is a rarity for him.

I look over at Cal, wondering if he notices how they work together, but he’s focused on a sheet of paper in front of him. This isn’t anything new. Cal has always struggled with his impulsivity and attention issues despite how intelligent he is. Sitting through hour-long meetings sucks him dry of any restraint he has over himself.

Today he decided to stay awake by playing a game of tic-tac-toe with himself.

I grab my pen and screw up his game for the hell of it.

“Fucker,” he mumbles under his breath.

I write PAY ATTENTION across the top of his paper. He draws the wonkiest middle finger, and I scribble below it.

That’s one small dick. Is it yours?

He lets out a low laugh.

Declan clears his throat, and we both look up at him.

“Any updates on Dreamland’s progress, Rowan?” my father asks. His tone is so neutral that it sets me on edge. If he doesn’t sneer, scowl, or glare, I’m automatically searching for a trap he wants to lay in front of me.

I flick an invisible piece of dust off my jacket. “The Creator teams have already been assembled and they’re making quick progress on developing some ideas.”

Father nods. “Good. I think it would be beneficial to have you present during our next meeting on the preliminary findings. Your ten-billion-dollar budget is drastic, and I’m sure the rest of the board is interested in learning more about the allocation of the funds.”

Motherfucker. I grind my teeth to the point of pain. “Of course I can present on my budget. Is there anything in particular that you would like to see?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sure everyone is equally interested in learning more about the creative design process behind an operation this large. There hasn’t been a renovation on this scale since the twenty-five-year mark.”

Bullshit. I assess his eyes, searching for some kind of tell, only to find they lack their usual redness. That’s bizarre. To think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my father look this sober. He’s the worst kind of functioning alcoholic, with his only tell being his red eyes the next day.

I brush it off as a weird coincidence. Maybe he ran out of alcohol last night and was too lazy to hit the store. “I’d be more than happy to share everything I’ve been working on thus far.”

My father lit an inferno under my ass today. It’s about time I start pushing everyone to their breaking point because their best simply isn’t good enough for me. Not with my father breathing down my neck, waiting for me to fail.

I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure the Creators have everything they need to be successful, especially Zahra. She’s my best chance at achieving my goal and getting the hell out of Dreamland.