Terms and Conditions (Dreamland Billionaires, #2)(45)

I have come to realize that, while her smile might be my weakness, her damp lashes clinging together will surely be my downfall.

“Were you crying?” My next breath is pinched, the oxygen fighting its way into my strained lungs.

“No.”

“You’re a pathetic liar.”

Her nostrils flare. She stands tall, barely reaching my chin. “You want me to be honest?” Her voice drops dangerously low.

“Yes.”

“Even if you hate what I have to say?”

“I can assure you I’ve heard worse.”

For a brief moment, her iciness melts away as her gaze softens. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what exactly?”

“Don’t remind me that there’s a human being locked up inside of you somewhere.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Her gaze shifts away from me as she focuses on a far corner of the room.

“I—” The chiming notification on the computer screen cuts her off. Her bitter laugh fills the room. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Fuck the meeting.

The thought acts like a punch to the throat. My ragged inhale does little to calm me, and my thoughts spiral out of control.

You’re losing sight of what’s important.

I shake my head, sobering up as I unbutton the front of my jacket and settle onto the couch in front of the laptop. “We’ll continue this conversation after.” I leave no room for opposition.

“Of course, sir.” Her snide remark bounces off me. She accepts the call and steps out of the frame.

“Hello, hello!” Mr. Yakura grins into the camera. I try to return the gesture, but the forced smile only makes him laugh.

I don’t understand how he can be so damn happy all the time. He reminds me of a golden retriever—all smiles and good times. It’s mind-boggling how someone like him, with all the power on his side of the hemisphere, can act the way he does.

Not everyone is a miserable fuck like you.

“No need to smile on my account.” Yakura laughs.

“Good. It’s not natural.” And it requires using one too many facial muscles for my taste.

His chuckle eases some of the tension from my shoulders.

“Where’s Iris?” Yakura asks as he scans the room for her.

“Here!” Iris steps behind me, using the back of the couch as a barrier between us. The scent of her, like a warm day at the beach, washes over me. I breathe through my mouth to spare my lungs another deep inhale.

“How are you?” Yakura asks, and some of the tension in my body disappears. Iris thrives under these kinds of circumstances given my aversion to them. Small talk happens to be my least favorite form of communication, right up there with smoke signals and group texts.

Her smile seems far less forced than mine. “Everything is great. Same old, same old over here. Just busy working my life away one day at a time.”

Our eyes meet through the camera, and mine narrow in silent warning.

“Sounds like you need a vacation. Perhaps even a honeymoon from what I hear.” He raises a brow.

Iris’s smile drops a fraction before she bounces back. “I see you heard about our news.”

“I’m a bit offended I found out the big news from my wife. I thought we were friends.” He frowns.

Somehow that word seems to be haunting me regardless of the person.

I’m not sure why people are so infatuated with becoming my friend. They would find me lacking in every way, from never remembering their birthday to always leaving their messages unread.

“I sent a wedding e-invitation to your assistant since everything was such a whirlwind, but it must have not made it to you.” Iris pouts on command, like the idea of Yakura missing our wedding tears her up inside.

“She must have missed it. I get so many emails each day, I practically take up a whole cloud of storage space.”

She waves him off. “No worries. It was spur of the moment anyway.” Iris lays her diamond-clad hand on my shoulder, and Yakura’s eyes track the movement. I remain stiff in my seat as a burning sensation in my gut surges to life.

“I’d say. I never knew you two were together, although my wife had her suspicions. Part of me is annoyed she was right this entire time.”

“Your wife is a smart woman,” Iris says.

“How did you two keep it a secret for this long?”

“You know Declan. He always keeps his business and personal life separate.”

“Don’t I know it. He wouldn’t even tell me his favorite color when I asked him.”

“Green like a crisp hundred-dollar bill,” she responds with a grin.

The urge to roll my eyes nearly overtakes me.

“Is that right?” Yakura’s eyes brighten as he looks at me.

“Yes.” No.

Iris gives my shoulder a pat of approval. Years ago, when Iris asked me about my favorite color, I told her I didn’t have one. Naturally, given her frequent bouts of insanity, she adopted one for me. It’s become a running joke on her end where every gift-giving occasion includes something green, as if oversaturating me with the color will make me like it.

It doesn’t. If anything, it always reminds me of her.

“Well, I won’t take up too much of your time. But while I have both of you here, I would like to discuss a unique opportunity regarding the Dreamland Tokyo proposal.”