Terms and Conditions(Dreamland Billionaires #2)(70)

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.





“Why do you keep smiling at your phone?” Cal pauses his typing to look over at me.

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.

“Right. Exactly how stupid do you think I am?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?”

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.”

“Really? Because anytime he put his phone away, you picked yours up.”

“Purely circumstantial evidence at best.”

“Except I was sitting right next to you. I saw his name flash across your screen twice within five minutes.”

I wag my finger at him. “It’s rude to read other people’s messages.”

“I couldn’t care less about whatever nonsense you two weirdos text each other. I care more about your feelings.”

His comment draws a chuckle from me. “Your worries are misplaced.”

“What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t warn you away from my brother?”

“Fair point. Except you’re forgetting it’s my job to know everything about your brother. There’s very little you could warn me about that I wouldn’t already be aware of.”

“That’s exactly my worry. You know everything and still volunteered to marry him.”

“Because I care.”

“But have you ever asked yourself why you care?”

“Because…” I could fill in the blank with so many responses, each equally questionable from Cal’s perspective.

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.”

“And what’s that exactly? That he breaks my heart?”

“Worse. He makes you fall in love with him.”



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.

“Come in.”

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.

“What do you need?” His rough voice snaps me out of my daze.

I lift my chin, preparing for a fight. “We have another fake date planned for tonight.”

“A fake date.” The way his lips curl at the statement fills me with trepidation.