The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(18)

“I’m the one who thought Mr. Kane needed to read your submission himself. Sam was a bit hesitant given the nature of the content.”

I wince. “I’m sorry.”

She waves her hand in the air. “Please. No apologies needed. We’re in such a time crunch and there’s no reason to apologize for stating how you feel. You’re the kind of Creator we need on our team.”

“Wow. I mean—thank you.” That went so much better than I thought.

“Let me give you a quick rundown of how things work around here. On Fridays, each Creator is responsible for presenting a new proposal. There’s a multi-step six-month process set in place to give Mr. Kane as many options as possible to choose from.”

“Choose for what?”

Jenny smiles. “He’s planning a fiftieth-anniversary update. A lot is riding on a project of this scale, so he expects us all to be at our best.”

“You got it! I won’t let you down.”

“I’ll let you get settled in. I hope you like Italian because the Betas planned a welcome lunch for you.”

“Only monsters hate Italian food.”

She laughs. “I knew you’d fit right in. See you at noon.” She walks out of the cubicle, leaving me with all my shiny new toys.

I might collapse from how nice everyone is here. It’s a much different vibe than I expected based on the stories I’ve heard about the Creators. My worries from before seem kind of silly now.

I slide my backpack underneath my desk before giving my rolling chair a spin. After my dizziness goes away, I swipe the stapler and press it together over and over again. Staples rain around me like celebratory confetti.

I feel Rowan before I see him. My neck tingles, and I look over my shoulder to find his eyes piercing my back like he wants to stab it.

“Yes?” I smile wide because I enjoy the way it makes his right eye twitch.

“Do you mind putting away your weapon before I start speaking?” His eyes narrow at the stapler.

“Is the big bad Mr. Kane afraid of a little stapler?” I click it a few times in his direction. The staples fly in the air before landing a few inches from my ballet flats.

“I wouldn’t trust you with bubble wrap, let alone a stapler.”

“You’re right. That choking hazard warning should be taken more seriously.”

A strange noise between a scoff and a groan escapes from his throat, and I classify it as a laugh. Looks like he has a personality after all.

I place the stapler back on my desk where it belongs.

“Any other weapons I should know about?”

I roll my eyes as I pretend to grab an invisible gun out from under my desk. I’m sure to make a show of removing the fake magazine and placing it on the desk.

If I squint, I could classify the small smirk on Rowan’s face as a smile. He lets out an exaggerated breath and steps inside the cubicle.

Wow. Was that his attempt at a joke?

I reward him with a grin that goes unreturned. The space instantly feels smaller, with his size taking up a quarter of the square footage.

I break the silence. “Can I help you with something in particular?”

He opens his mouth, only to close it a second later.

Does he even know why he’s here? The thought makes my chest all tingly.

Bad Zahra. “What do you think of my new digs?”

“Leaves something to be desired.” His eyes slide from my face to the gray cubicle walls.

I blink at him. Would it kill him to be nice?

Probably. I focus my attention back on my desk. I’m committed to ignoring him until he goes away because I don’t want him to rain on my parade.

I press every single button twice on the computer but the damn thing won’t turn on no matter what I do.

“Move over.” He walks up to my desk, bringing his addictive cologne with him.

“Why?” I rasp.

“For some unknown reason, I feel like helping you.”

“Because?” I keep my smile hidden behind a curtain of my hair.

“Because you shouldn’t be trusted around electrical outlets.”

I laugh and scoot my chair out to give him some room.

He kneels down on his perfectly pressed trousers. I shouldn’t find it as hot as I do, but the cubicle heats up as he looks up at me from his spot on the floor. His gaze darkens as his eyes scan my crossed legs. My heart thuds in my chest at the pace of a jackhammer, and I’m surprised he can’t hear the erratic beats himself.

Whatever passes between us disappears as he crawls underneath the desk, giving me the perfect view of him on all fours.

Now who’s the one staring?

I ignore the voice in my head and choose to enjoy the show. Rowan’s body is nothing like my ex’s. Every inch of his lean body is packed with muscle like he runs for fun. His muscular calves stick out from beneath the desk, and his firm ass moves as he readjusts the cables down there. It takes every ounce of self-control in my body not to reach out and touch him. I take a moment to guess his shoe size. The only conclusion I come to is that I’m hopelessly immature and desperately horny.

Of course I’m attracted to my arrogant boss who lacks any sort of people skills. This has to be some cruel joke on me after everything I’ve been through. Maybe there is some kind of chemical imbalance in my body or gravitational pull toward assholes like Rowan.