The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires Book 1)

My mom always warned me about stranger danger. But she also taught me to be kind to everyone, so I’m dealing with conflicting advice at the moment.

Would Rowan really give my number to someone dangerous? No way.

Okay, well maybe. But I would sure hope he wouldn’t.  

I make a conscious decision to keep texting Scott and see where our conversation goes. It’s not like it’s much of a chore. And after everything I messaged him last night, I expected him to run for the hills. And that’s saying something because Florida is one of the flattest states in the entire US.

At least he came back. 

Even I was surprised at that. According to my mom, I have the subtlety of a lightning bolt and the personality of a firework. She told me it would take an equally strong man to appreciate that kind of force of nature.

Still waiting, Mom. I’m not sure where I’m supposed to find this strong man but I’ve had zero luck on the dating apps Claire signed me up for. It’s my fault. I’m too much of a dreamer who still believes in fairy tales and the possibility of a duke swooping in and marrying me.

I drop my head in my hands and sigh.

“Am I working you too hard?”

I choke on my intake of breath. Rowan stands in the entryway of my cubicle. He looks…well, damn. Casual Friday looks really fucking good on him. He’s got that country club feel with a designer polo and khaki pants. I wonder what it’s like to have so much money that I could have a collared T-shirt dry-cleaned instead of carrying a spot-corrector pen in every purse I own. Is that how the other half lives?

I let out another sigh. “No. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Something keeping you up?” The side of his mouth lifts.

“Don’t start asking me personal questions. I might do something crazy like assume you care about me.”

“Save the fairy tales for your proposals.”

I grin. “Do you talk about anything besides work?”

“Why would I? Work is my life.” He looks at me like a scientist with a microscope.

“That’s sad, Rowan. Even for you.”

“I don’t see how.”

“What do you like to do for fun?”

“People still do things for fun?”

Was that…a joke? If so, his tone could use some work.

I laugh to encourage more of them. “You need to find a hobby that doesn’t include watching the stock market.”

“One does not simply ‘watch the stock market.’”

I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you said that with a serious face. With the way you act, you’ll end up in a shallow grave before you have your first gray hair because you’re addicted to work.”

His glare penetrates my faux confidence. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“No. But it’s not like you can fire me for stating an observation.”

“At least not while you’re my golden ticket.”

Golden ticket? I don’t think I’ve ever been referenced as something so…special.

My shoulders sag. How pathetic is that? I set my standards so low after Lance, I’m obsessing over casual compliments from my boss.

A boss who kissed you like you’ve never been kissed before. 

But my boss nonetheless. 

I wipe away whatever look is on my face. “Is there a reason you came by my office?”

“Is that what we’re calling cubicles the size of my shower nowadays?”

I flip him off underneath my desk.

“Hiding your hand defeats the intended purpose of such a gesture.”

Why does he talk like he was born drinking breast milk out of a porcelain teacup? And even weirder, why do I enjoy it?

“My dad taught me that if I don’t have anything nice to say, then I shouldn’t say anything at all.”

“Shouldn’t that rule extend to offensive gestures?”

I raise a brow in his direction. “Because you’re the kind of person who gets offended now?”

His grimace doesn’t match his lit-up eyes. “Your file never mentioned an issue with talking back to authority figures.”

I perk up. “You’ve been reading up on me.”

“I tend to research my investments.”

I know his intention wasn’t to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside but my heart leaps in my chest anyway.

We aren’t an investment, my feminist brain calls out.

But the big grumpy man spends his time researching me, the hopeless romantic calls out in rebuttal.

I grin to myself. When I look up, I find Rowan staring at me with a pinched expression. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.” He turns and exits my shower-sized cubicle, leaving me with a weird feeling that sticks with me for the rest of the day.

I add the drawing Rowan dropped off yesterday to the last slide of my presentation. He captured everything I dreamed of showing but lacked the talent in executing.

Today I feel way more nervous about presenting. Despite the amazing mandap drawing Scott did, I’m still unsure about showing off my first idea that doesn’t have Brady Kane’s approval. I could have chosen one of the ideas we brainstormed together but I wanted to test myself.

Now I’m not too sure if it was the best idea. What if people hate it?

But Rowan said it was great. 

I roll my shoulders back as I shut my laptop. There’s a reason Rowan sees me as an investment, so maybe it’s time I start acting like one. The worst thing that can happen is Jenny telling me no or Rowan deciding the idea isn’t as good as he originally thought.

So I walk into the conference room with my head held high.

Rowan’s chair remains empty despite the room filling up with Creators. I take my usual seat at the back of the table where I write notes away from any prying eyes.

Jenny calls the meeting to a start despite Rowan being absent. I keep checking the time on my phone as the presenters go up one by one to discuss their idea of the week. When Jenny calls my name, I stand and walk up to the podium.

I pull up my PowerPoint and ignore the weird feeling in my chest when my eyes land on Rowan’s empty chair. Why isn’t he here? It’s not like he mentioned anything when he stopped by my cubicle.

I shake my head and turn on my presenter mode. The excited energy in the room balances the nerves inside of me, and my confidence grows into something stronger. I’m winded by the time I finish. My skin is flushed and the erratic rhythm of my heart has yet to lessen.

One person clapping turns into the entire room smiling and congratulating me on a job well done.

All I can do is grin. If this is what believing in myself feels like, I wish I had done it a bit sooner. Before my ideas were stolen and my spirit was crushed.

I’m done being that woman. From now on, I refuse to let self-doubt get in my way. I’m now Zahra 2.0. The woman who doesn’t give much thought to the past because I’m only facing my future.

Lance might have stolen my first idea but it’s most certainly not my last, and everyone’s response tells me that the only one I need to prove something to is myself.

Claire barrels into me the moment I open the door to our apartment. “Zahra!” Her arms wrap around me and she starts bouncing up and down.

“What?!”

“I got a job!”

“Really?! At The Royal Chateau?” Holy shit. I know Claire’s talented but wow.

Her black brows pull together. “Well, no.”

“I’m so confused.”

“Let me explain.” Claire leads me to the couch, where she already has a bottle of cheap wine waiting for us. “So I was a complete wreck during my entire interview.”

My smile drops. “Oh no.”

She waves me off. “Everything that could possibly go wrong did. I overcooked the chicken and undercooked the fish. Then my souffle deflated before I had a chance to even plate it and I burned my hand on a hot pan.” She shows off her bandage.

I cringe.

“It was so embarrassing. The sous chef dismissed me in the middle of the interview after yelling at me for wasting her time. She made me feel this tall.” Claire shows me an inch of space between her index finger and thumb.

All the muscles in my body tighten. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I feel responsible for pushing you into this before you were ready. I thought—”

“No! Thanks to you, I ended up landing something even better.”

“How?”

She grabs a filled glass of wine and passes it to me. “I ran into the chef outside the restaurant.”

“How did you know they were the chef?”

“It’s a funny story. You see, I didn’t know who he was at the time. He thought I was an injured animal.”

“No way.” I smack a hand over my mouth to stop my laugh from escaping.

She nods. “Yes. I don’t think he was prepared for the Pandora’s box he unleashed when he asked if I was okay. All the emotions exploded out of me. I have to give him credit. He stood there quietly while I went off about how I tanked the most important interview of my career.”

“And?”

“And then he asked me a couple of questions about my favorite things to cook before telling me to make his favorite meal!”

My jaw drops open. “Get out.”

“It was like a movie! So I cooked him the best grilled cheese and tomato soup that man has ever tasted. His words, not mine.”

“A chef’s favorite meal is grilled cheese? Doesn’t that seem a bit…basic?”

“There is no room for basic bitches here.” Claire grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen. We might not have a gourmet size anything but Claire makes our small space work in her favor. She grabs all her supplies and starts preparing everything on the mini peninsula.

My stomach grumbles on cue. Today’s small lunch barely held me over, especially since I worked later than usual since I was on a roll and didn’t want to stop.

Claire points at the barstool and I take a seat.

“Then what happened?” I pull off my vintage headband and give the sides of my head a massage.

“He offered me a second interview after nearly orgasming on the spot from my food.”

I giggle. “Shut up.”

“Okay, that was dramatic, even for me. But his eyes did roll the tiniest bit.” She grins.

“So what is your new job then?

“The head chef is being transferred to a new restaurant project with Mr. Kane so he won’t be working at The Royal Chateau anymore. And I’m going to be part of the chef’s team! It doesn’t have a name or anything yet, but I’m guaranteed a spot in the kitchen.”

“Claire! This is huge!”

Her whole face lights up from the grin she unleashes. “Right?!

“We need wine!” I go back to the living room and grab our filled glasses. We clink them together and say a quick cheers.

“Without you pushing me to try, I would’ve never bombed the interview. And without crying by a dumpster, then I wouldn’t have run into the best opportunity yet! So I now believe in fate. You were right all these years.” She returns her attention back to the frying pan on the stove.

“So us meeting didn’t convince you that fate exists?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “No. I thought you were just an annoying person who crashed into me because you wanted to steal the parking spot.”

“One man’s accident is another man’s fate.”

“Tell that to my insurance company.”

We both laugh to the point of tears before calling my parents and telling them the good news.

Claire serves us the most amazing grilled cheese I’ve ever had, not because her skills aren’t amazing, but because of everything a simple sandwich represents.