The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(100)

“Vote?”

Her tiny fists tighten. “I was chosen for Brady’s committee, but I’m sure you already knew that. Didn’t you?”

Zahra is on the committee? This has to be some kind of sick cosmic joke. Out of all the people my grandfather could have picked, he chose her?

All the pieces connect. In my letter, he had mentioned meeting someone at Dreamland who helped him realize his mistakes. I don’t know how I didn’t think about it being Zahra sooner. Grandpa wasn’t the kind of person who met with random employees, yet he discussed Nebula Land with her. He even helped her redesign it. His damn note on her file was the biggest breadcrumb of all, and I completely overlooked it.

Shit. And the way she looks at me—it’s like she doesn’t recognize me. It pierces through my damn heart.

I fucked up. Big time.

“Was any of it real?” Her voice cracks.

“Of course it was.” I reach out to cup her cheek, but she takes a step backward.

It sucks a whole lot.

“I never knew about you being chosen for the vote,” I say.

“And what, I’m supposed to believe anything that comes out of your mouth? All you’ve done is lie or tell half-truths ever since we met.” Her laugh sounds so hollow and unlike her that it makes my chest ache.

Instead of asking Zahra to stay at Dreamland and work for me, I now have to convince her that I never knew this was his plan.

Good luck with that. “You have to believe me on this. I knew a vote would happen—that much is true—but I had no idea who my grandfather would pick.”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter what you say. I can’t trust you.”

I grab her hand and place it against my chest. The heat of her palm adds to the spreading warmth through my chest. “I swear I’m not lying. I know I might have hidden some truths and lied to you in the past”—she flinches at my words—“but I would never use you for something like a vote. I’m better than that.”

She rips her hand out of my grasp. “That’s the thing, Rowan. I think you think you’re better than that, but from everything I’ve seen, I have no reason to believe you’re anything but selfish. You choose to think about one person and one person only—and that’s yourself.”

Her words slice away at me, making my breathing difficult. She looks at me with a pinched expression, and I’ve seen that kind of gaze enough times in my father’s eyes to label it as disgust. It hurts far more this time, knowing it’s from Zahra.

She walks around me to grab her belongings. “I’m quitting because I have no interest in working for you or your company anymore. I want to work for a place that wants to make a real difference in people’s lives because they care, and your company isn’t it.”

She exits the room, leaving me with nothing but the lingering smell of her perfume and the memory of her teary eyes looking at me with nothing but hate.





48





Rowan





I should go home after landing in Chicago, but I tell my driver to take me to my father’s place. After everything that happened after Zahra’s presentation, I’ve had something bugging me. It took me an entire flight to realize I have unfinished business to settle before I can finally move on.

The pressure I’ve placed on my own shoulders to live up to some unattainable goal of proving my father wrong has poisoned enough of my life. I wanted him to recognize my worth for years when he couldn’t even see past his own misery. And now I’m done. I’m letting go of that boy who wanted to be seen by the entirely wrong person.

I press the doorbell with one gloved finger. It takes my father a few minutes to open the door to his townhouse on the edge of the city.

His eyes widen behind his glasses. “Rowan. Come on in.” He opens the door.

I take a moment to assess him. His eyes seem clear and sober, and his breath lacks the distinct smell of whiskey that I’ve grown to pair with his drunken outbursts.

I guess he’s sober enough to get through this conversation.

I hold up my hand. “That’s not necessary. I have a couple of questions to ask you.”

His brows knit together, but he nods anyway. “Okay.”

“Do you think Mom would be proud of the man you’ve become since she died?”

My father’s mouth drops open. I don’t think I’ve seen him look surprised like this before. The color leaches out of his already pale face, making him look ghostly.

A heavy gust of wind blows toward us, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he had.

“No. I don’t.” His head bows.

“Why did you change?”

“Because I was an angry, pathetic man who wanted to drown everyone in my grief so they could feel hurt like I hurt.”

I blink at him, caught completely off guard by his candid answer. Out of all the responses I considered, the words he spoke never even made it on the list.

He sighs as if this conversation is draining him of all his energy. “Any other questions?”

“Do you regret falling in love with my mother?”

“Not at all.”

I could have sworn he would say yes. How could he not after all the pain he clearly went through? “Why not?”