Terms and Conditions(Dreamland Billionaires #2)(31)

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

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

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

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

“They bought it.” His rough whisper feels like being doused in ice water. Something about his comment causes a tight ball to form in my chest, growing until it consumes my heart.

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

Maybe because you bought it too.





12




DECLAN





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

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

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

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

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

Married.

Two ushers open the doors. Together, Iris and I walk out into the bright sunlight overhead. One of the photographers stops in front of us and yells out our names. I wrap an arm around Iris’s waist and pull her against me, ignoring the way she tenses in my grasp.

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

I run my hand down her back, tracing the row of ivory buttons. She does nothing but shoot me a cold smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

I absolutely despise it.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I whisper in her ear before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

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

I grimace. “You don’t look happy.”

“Unlike you, some of us can’t fake it 24/7.” Her voice can barely be heard over a gust of wind.

“What are you talking—”

“Let’s get a photo of a kiss before they let the guests out!” the photographer yells.

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

“I think they’re coming out now,” Iris calls out.

“Then make it quick!” he replies back.

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

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

My arms curl around Iris’s back, tugging her against me. Her lips part and her eyes shut as I lean forward. Sparks break out across my skin as our lips touch, and liquid heat spreads through my veins. Kissing her is addictive. Thrilling. So damn wrong I can’t help questioning why it isn’t right.

She’s your assistant.

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

You’re paying her to have your child.

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

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

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

Iris blinks up at me with dilated eyes.

She is affected by you too.

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

Before I have a chance to wrap my mind around what is happening between us, the doors behind me open. Hundreds of guests pour out of the church. They gather in a circle, suffocating us. I hate the way they batter us with compliments almost as much as I despise the way the crowd grows larger by the minute.