Terms and Conditions (Dreamland Billionaires, #2)(73)

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.

I give him a reassuring pat on his chest. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner we go inside, the sooner we get to leave.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.”

I laugh again, and his hand on my waist tightens.

Does he like my laugh? The idea seems comical given Declan’s preference for silence.

My theory is proven correct later on when I break out into another fit of laughter and Declan’s hand squeezes my hip in response. A rush of happiness hits me as I come to grips with my revelation.

Interesting. Very interesting.

1 ? Noun, Greek: A pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it.”





28





IRIS


I t doesn’t take us long to spot Brady Kane’s lawyer. He would be hard to miss given his boisterous voice and equally loud embroidered tux.

Declan makes a move to walk over to his corner of the ballroom, but I tug him back.

“We should play it cool and wait for him to come to us.”

The ice in Declan’s whiskey glass rattles as he takes a long sip. “You want us to wait and do what, exactly?”

I awkwardly laugh before taking a deep chug of my wine. “Talk?”

He grimaces.

“So how was work today?”

He shoots me a glare. “You were there.”

“I don’t follow you around 24/7. There are plenty of things I might miss, like you struggling with a printer or harassing an innocent employee because they forgot to use Arial font in an email. I mean, come on, what did Times New Roman ever do to you?”

His scowl deepens. “It’s not my fault they can’t follow simple directions.”

“I think you’d be surprised at how motivated people are to do a good job when you rein in the attitude.”

He looks away with a huff.

I grin. “You know, as the future CEO, you will have to learn a couple things about leadership if you want to be successful.”

“I know how to lead.”

“Do you, though? Because there is a big difference between giving orders and leading a company.”

He drags his eyes back to mine. “If my alcoholic father can do it, I’m sure I can’t screw up too badly.”

I take a sip of my drink as I consider my next statement. “But don’t you want to be better than him?”

His jaw clenches. “Of course.”

“Then what do you want to do when you become CEO?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your next goal once that happens? Where do you feel your father has been lacking?”

“It would take me years to repair all the business relationships my father has damaged.”

“Because you suck at kissing ass?”

His withering glare makes me laugh. The tightness around his eyes softens, all while his lips press together as if he wants to stop himself from matching the smile in his eyes.

He wants to smile because of you!

My brain might overload from all the sensations happening inside of me at the thought of Declan smiling because of my laugh.

“Look who it is!” A wrinkled hand clamps down on Declan’s shoulder. “I heard you were here tonight.” Brady Kane’s lawyer grins.

Declan doesn’t bother trying to smile, and the brightness from before is replaced by cool indifference. “Leonid.”

The lawyer shudders, making his head of gray hair shake. “Please call me Leo. You know how I feel about formalities.”

Leo turns his eyes toward me. “And is this the wife I’ve heard some whisperings about?”

One of Declan’s arms snakes around me before tugging me flush against him. “Iris, this is Leo. He was my grandfather’s best friend.”

Best friend? Why didn’t Declan mention that tiny detail during our thousands of exchanges about the man?

Probably because he doesn’t have best friends, so he doesn’t think it matters.

I refrain from sighing.