Terms and Conditions(Dreamland Billionaires #2)(104)

“As much as I have appreciated your input up until this point, I’m the boss. I can determine whether or not I should continue.”

“We’re supposed to be a team.”

“We are, but every team has a leader, and it’s not you.”

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.

“No. You don’t get to touch me right now.”

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.”

“Then what is your problem?”

“You don’t trust me—not entirely that is. If you did, then you would listen to me because I’ve spent two years helping you build this project from the ground up. I don’t want you to ruin it because you’re not thinking rationally. Today isn’t about beating your father or trying to talk over him. It’s about showing Yakura that you will put family first, regardless of your personal feelings because it’s in the best interest of the company.”

“I trusted your shitty plan and you failed, so don’t lecture me on trust when you’re the one to blame for my father being here in the first place. If you were as good at your job as you say you are, none of this would have ever happened.”

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.

“I never thought I would be on the receiving end of your temper, but I should have known that being your wife wouldn’t save me from that kind of treatment. If anything, it makes it ten times worse.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was angry about the situation with my father and took it out on you.”

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.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble against her lips. Something wet and salty hits my lips, and I break away from our kiss to find a few tears streaming down her face. I brush them away, trying to erase the evidence of my words, only to find more in their wake. It’s like trying to fix a leak with duct tape. Nothing works to stop the tears from breaking free, and they only make me more frustrated.

“Please don’t cry.”

Her brows tug together as she looks up at me with glistening eyes. “You’re not laughing.”

“What?”

“You told me you laugh when you make people cry.” Her voice cracks.

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.

“Let go of me,” she rasps as she pushes against my chest.

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.

“We can talk this out.”

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?

“I’ve been called a failure by many people in my life, including my own father, yet none of them seemed to have made it hurt quite like you just did. I trusted you.”

My stomach rolls as I am unable to escape the sick feeling plaguing me.

“I’m sorr—”

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.”