The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(12)

I let out the tiniest sigh that makes his secretary smile at her computer screen.

All the attraction is sucked out of me once his hardened gaze crashes into mine. The shadows in his eyes douse the small flame in my chest.

I grab my phone from my dress pocket. “I was on time. Right?” I look over at Martha for approval.

She remains silent as she focuses all her attention on cleaning out her junk mail inbox. The betrayal.

“Follow me.” Rowan steps away from the door to give me space to enter.

I rise from the chair and grab my backpack off the floor. His gaze lingers on my puffy tulle sleeves before eying the rest of my dress like he wants to burn the fabric. His scowl only deepens once his eyes land on my cherry red sneakers.

I click the heels together twice with a smile.

His eyes snap toward mine. My cheeks heat from the look on his face.

Is that yearning in his gaze or intense dislike?

Let’s hope for the first while expecting the latter.

Whatever lingers in his eyes disappears as he blinks and removes any trace of emotion. He turns in a huff, giving me a prime view of his firm bubble butt. I pause and look because I am a warm-blooded human after all.

No man in power should possess a body like that. It should be considered a corporate crime to look that good while wearing a suit.

I shake my head and follow him into his domain. Rowan’s office is a complete contrast from his personality. The vintage space reflects the romantic charm of Dreamland with crown molding and pale-yellow walls. It reminds me of something I’d find in one of my regency novels, with white wainscoting and elaborate wood furniture carved with an artist’s touch.

Rowan frowns, sticking out like a thundercloud on a bright summer day. He stands by his desk and presses his clenched fists against the top. “Sit.” He takes a seat in his leather wingback chair.

The dominance emanating off him makes it difficult to take deep breaths of air. I settle into the chair across from his desk, crossing and uncrossing my legs as he grabs papers from a file drawer.

“Do you need to use the restroom?” His face remains blank.

“What?”

“Bathroom?” He grunts, pointing toward a door in the corner of the office. “You keep moving around.”

“Oh no!” My cheeks heat. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

“Don’t set yourself up for failure like that.”

A laugh escapes me before I have a chance to stop it. The side of his mouth lifts a whole quarter of a centimeter before dropping again.

Honestly, what does it take for someone like him to smile? Stealing candy from babies? Blood sacrifices? Watching live feeds of families having their homes foreclosed on? I need to know.

He slides the file over to me. “Here’s your new contract. It’s quite similar to your previous one with The Magic Wand Salon.”

My mouth drops open. “I’m sorry. A contract?!”

When people are fired from Dreamland, are they given a contract to never come back? How exactly does this whole thing work?

He sighs as if I’m inconveniencing him. “You’ll be joining the Creators’ team effective immediately.”

The room spins around me. I place a hand against his desk for stability. “I’m what?! Joining the Creators’ team?”

He blinks at me. “This annoying habit of repeating everything back to me is a waste of time and oxygen.”

“Excuse me?” I rear back. “First off, I have every right to be confused. I thought you were about to fire me!”

This time his face shifts from a neutral stare to something that translates into You’re the dumbest person I’ve had the displeasure of being around. “You’re getting a job promotion.”

How did I go from tearing apart the entire Nebula Land ride to getting a job offer with the most elite employees in all of Dreamland? This has to be some kind of payback for wasting everyone’s time with my submission.

“How?”

The vein on his forehead makes an appearance. “Do you always feel the need to ask so many questions?”

“Do you always feel the need to be evasive and curt in everything you do?”

He proves my point by remaining silent. I’m tempted to knock his head around like a busted vending machine until I get some answers.

He taps the top of the file. “Your Nebula Land submission was rather bold. Not many people dare to critique a billion-dollar investment.”

“I submitted it while I was drunk!” I blurt out.

He blinks at me. The only noise I hear is the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

Oh God. Why did I admit that?! I rub a sweaty palm down my face.

His lip curls. The look on his face makes me want to curl into a fetal position. “Will this be a habit while you’re on the clock?”

I shake my head so fast, I’m hit with a wave of dizziness. “Oh no! I rarely drink. It was a stupid idea to help me unwind—”

He lifts his hand. “Save me the monologue. I don’t care.”

Now it’s my turn to blink. Rowan might be a man of few words but they serve their purpose at making me feel like an idiot without actually calling me an idiot. It must be his superpower.

I smile to ease the tension between us. “But I’m guessing you liked my idea or else you wouldn’t be offering me a job.”