Terms and Conditions(Dreamland Billionaires #2)(72)

Tonight is no different. I take extra time applying my makeup and painting my nails. I somehow shimmy into my floor-length gown, being mindful of not catching my braids on the open zipper. Despite my efforts, I can’t seem to reach the zipper. I’m shoved back into the memory of my wedding night. Except unlike before, I don’t mind asking Declan for a little help, so long as he is fully clothed.

A knock on my door saves me from having to travel far for his assistance.

I grab the knob and tug the door open. “Hey.”

Declan leans against the doorframe, his hair perfectly styled and his tux molded to his muscles as if it was sewn straight onto his body. The only thing unkempt about him is the way his bowtie lays undone against his shirt.

You had to go and marry one of the most handsome men in all of Chicago.

Screw Chicago. More like the most handsome man in all of the world.

I want to drown in his whiskey-colored eyes and never come up for air. There is something about the way he looks at me that seems to strip me bare, ridding myself of any sensible thoughts. Some men look like a dream. Others a nightmare. Declan happens to be a lethal combination of the two—beautiful in a way that should terrify me. Emphasis on the should because if anything, I yearn for more. Especially after our kiss earlier.

“You look…” He pauses.

“If you say nice, I swear I’ll make your death look like an accident.”

“Devastating.”

My throat tightens with emotion. “Are we back to using English words to describe our feelings?”

His eyes glitter. “Only for tonight.”

I break eye contact first, unable to withstand his stare.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Almost. I just need your help with something first.” I turn and pull my braids over my shoulders, revealing my exposed back. “I can’t reach.”

My cheeks heat as I think back to our wedding night. Somehow, I continue to land myself in this position without even trying.

He doesn’t move to help me, so I glance over my shoulder to see if he is still there. His eyes are transfixed on my back. They trace the length of my spine like invisible fingers before stopping at the dimples.

“Declan?”

His eyes snap back to mine. “I got it.” He steps forward and reaches out his hand. Instead of grabbing onto the zipper at the bottom, his knuckles graze the base of my neck. A shiver racks my body as he drags his fist down my back. The way he draws out the simple task makes me regret ever asking him for help in the first place.

Why didn’t you choose a dress that doesn’t have a zipper?

I suck in a breath as the tips of his fingers hover over one of my dimples. My neck heats as Declan releases a heavy sigh, and the silky material of his tux brushing against my bare arms sends another current of energy through me.

What is going on?

The drag of the zipper fills the silence, and all too soon, his warmth pressing against my back disappears.

He readjusts my hair for me, and my heart gallops in response. “We should get going.”

“Hold on. You forgot this.”

His brows pull together as I step forward and grab the ends of his bow tie. I pull on one side before passing the longer end into the neck loop. He releases a shuddery breath as my fingers brush his skin, and I look up to catch his gaze fixed on me. The way he looks at me feels…

Devastating.

I hurry through the rest of the steps before I do something crazy like pull his lips down to mine. “There.” I readjust the sides so the knot is centered.

I move to step away, but he grabs my hands and holds them hostage against his chest. “Thank you.”

My slow blink gives me a moment to process. “It’s just a bow tie.”

“I mean for everything. The fake dates…”

“The broken laws.”

“And noses.”

I laugh. “That was all you.”

His lips curve into a seductive smile that makes my knees tremble. He reaches out and traces my cheek with his thumb, and my stomach does a betraying little flip that terrifies me.

No matter how tonight goes, one thing is clear: Declan isn’t going to back down. If anything, our kiss made him bolder. I’m not sure how I am going to survive tonight without doing something stupid.

God help me.





Declan and I make it to the gala without kissing, fighting, or talking. It isn’t until he steps out of the car and holds out his arm for me to take that he finally speaks.

“How long do we have to stay here?”

I clutch onto his hand and exit the car. “We haven’t even gone inside yet.”

He huffs. “You know how I feel about these things.”

“I might know how, but not why.”

His eyes seem to roam over me before landing back on my face. “I have my reasons.”

“Do they have anything to do with you painfully pretending you like other people for two hours straight?”

“If only it were that simple.”

“What would you do if you didn’t have me around to save you from hours of small talk?”

“Death by a butter knife would be most appropriate given the setting.”

I lean into his side as I laugh. He wraps his arm around my waist, and I look at him with wide eyes and a smile that has yet to fall. His lips part as if he is about to say something, but our moment is cut short by a flash of a camera bulb. Someone shouts Declan’s name. It sobers me enough to take in our surroundings and the different people mulling about the red carpet, interviewing each person who walks by.