Terms and Conditions (Dreamland Billionaires, #2)(44)

Declan, like the complete asshole boss he tends to be under most circumstances, sends me a recorded voice note requesting that I make a PowerPoint just in case Mr. Yakura wants a visual aid for his meeting.

The only visual aid I want is of my hands wrapped around Declan’s neck, stopping his airflow.

Okay. Turn it down about ten notches.

Once I rein my temper in, I get back to work. It takes me two hours to create a PowerPoint based on our combined messy notes. What would take a normal person an hour to compile takes me double because I have to triple-check each slide for errors. The last thing I want is for Declan to berate me for a silly typo or incorrect punctuation mark.

After I finish the slideshow, I send Declan a message sarcastically asking if he needed anything else from me. I should have expected it would backfire.

Declan throws task after task my way, each more irritating than the last.

Check in with our Tokyo sponsors to make sure they are still interested.

Contact the head of marketing and have him send me an estimated expense report.

Schedule me a last-minute meeting with Rowan before Yakura jumps on the video call.

The more demands he places, the stronger my anger becomes. I’m supposed to have ten days of vacation time. After being denied three years’

worth of paid time off, I want my break.

I need it.

Maybe you want more than that.

My head drops into my hands as I let out a frustrated groan. While I appreciate my job and the many opportunities Declan has given me, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

Better yet, I don’t want to do this.

I’m turning twenty-four this year and what do I have to say for myself?

Most of my life revolves around Declan and making sure he has everything he needs to be successful. I even married the man so he achieves everything he dreamed of—all because I care about him way more than he could ever reciprocate. He gave me a chance when no one believed in me, and for that, I owe him.

My actions say more about me and less about him. I put my needs aside because I thought it would make me happy to help others. And while it feels great to see everyone else achieve their dreams, it leaves me with a gaping hole in my chest.

Nothing will change unless you do.

Maybe Cal was right. If I keep making excuses for myself, I will never find the right time to take the next big step in my life.

Yet you tried already and failed.

I sigh. Despite all the failures in my life, somehow not being hired for an entry-level HR position stings the most.

So what if you failed? You’re never going to accomplish anything worthwhile if you keep to your comfort zone.

But what about Declan? The voice that has had far too much say over my past decisions speaks up. And like always, I listen, pushing aside my thoughts as I get started on Declan’s next task.





17





DECLAN


T here’s been something off about Iris ever since I told her we needed to cancel our safari for the day. I thought she would get over her mood by noon, but I was wrong. She only speaks to me through email, despite being a quick walk away from my bedroom, and she avoids all the common areas of the bungalow. The way she ignores me makes me far more frustrated than I would ever care to admit.

I consider checking in on her a few times but think better of it. Whenever she’s gotten irritated at work, I’ve found it best to leave her alone to sort out her feelings. She knows the stakes here, and she of all people knows how much this deal means to me. It would be ridiculous for her to think I would tell Yakura no after the struggle I went through to get him on the phone.

Our meeting time closes in, and Iris still hasn’t come to set up the computer. I grab my phone to call her, but it turns out that I don’t need to.

She walks into the living room with her laptop tucked beneath her arm.

The ever-present tightness in my chest whenever she is around intensifies as I scan her from head to toe. Gone are her usual high heels and dresses, replaced by an all-black outfit that accentuates every dip and curve of her body.

I stand taller in her presence if only to make her notice me. Except she doesn’t as she busies herself with setting up the computer for our video call without sparing me a glance.

I somehow resist the temptation to grab her chin and force her to look up at me, instead settling on stepping in her way. “Ready?”

Her hand clutching the charging cable tightens around the cord like a chokehold. “Yup.”

Still, her gaze doesn’t meet mine. Her lack of acknowledgment shouldn’t be a concern for me when I have more pressing issues to handle, yet I am acutely aware of the tension building between us.

I don’t like it. Not one bit.

“Iris.”

“Yes?” She assesses the login screen like it’s written in Morse code.

“Tell me what’s wrong so we can get on with our day.”

She seems to not like my command based on the way she smashes her fingers against the keyboard. “Why would anything be wrong?”

“Quit the passive-aggressive attitude and talk to me.” I cover her hand with my palm, stopping her typing.

“You’re the last person I want to speak to right now.” Her eyes finally slice into me as she steals her hand away.

What I find reflecting in them is not what I expected. She might as well wave a red flag above her head, warning me to stay away. Yet I find it impossible to ignore the way her eyes glisten.