The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(31)

Zahra: I’m nothing but smooth if I do say so myself.





I smirk. This is what I’ve been waiting for because I knew she was too good to be true.

Zahra: In case you missed the subtle clue, this is the moment I proposition you.

Me: I don’t think you considered how that sounded.





My text earns me a GIF of someone laughing into their coffee mug. I’m so used to people laughing on cue that I forgot what it’s like to genuinely entertain someone.

My phone rattles in my hand.

Zahra: So how do you feel about us establishing a partnership of sorts?





My response is instantaneous.

Me: No.

Zahra: Come on. You haven’t even heard my proposal yet.

Me: Sorry. My bank doesn’t accept Monopoly money.





I pinch the bridge of my nose. How lame is that?

Somehow my comment gets me a trio of laughing emojis.

Zahra: You’re kind of funny.

Me: I don’t think I’ve been called funny in my life.





I groan as I read the text a second time. I’m making my alter ego into a complete loser, much like my normal self.

Zahra: That’s kind of weird, Scott. Maybe you need to find new friends who appreciate your brand of humor.





Friends? What friends? The higher anyone climbs up the ladder of success, the harder it is to relate to anyone below. Maybe that’s the reason why I enjoy talking to Zahra. It’s not because of her specifically, but rather the idea of letting loose and being myself.

Zahra: So scratch the idea of Monopoly money. I’ll do you one better. I’m willing to pay with food, booze, or whatever it is you like.





Before I have a chance to think up another response, her next text lights up my phone.

Zahra: Are high-quality crayons considered valuable currency in your department? I have a coupon for our local craft store that I borrowed from my mom.





Something in my chest tightens, and although it’s not exactly uncomfortable, it raises an alarm. Yet I don’t heed the warning as I send another message.

Me: How does one borrow a coupon?

Zahra: Well, when you put it that way…consider it a donation.





Is she even for real? And more importantly, why am I smiling at my phone? I wipe the grin from my face and grind my molars together.

Me: Can’t help you. I’m busy with work.





Good. Get out of this before it’s too late.

Zahra: Oh. Right. I understand. Rowan mentioned how the Animators are working hard on some new movies. Are you a part of that?





There’s a weird feeling in my gut that has nothing to do with whatever I ate. I’m not sure why it happens, but everything tells me to avoid it.

Me: I’ve got to go. Ask Rowan for someone else’s help.





There’s a sense of finality to my words that I hope translates through text. I raise the volume on the TV to drown out the thoughts in my head.

My phone vibrates against my thigh a couple of minutes later.

Zahra: I’ll be back with a better offer tomorrow once I sort everything out.

Me: Don’t go selling your kidney.





Fuck me. It’s like I have no control over myself around her.

Zahra: Of course not. That’s plan E. I still have three better options up for grabs.





I curse up to the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I ended up here, joking with someone who doesn’t even know who the hell I really am.

And worse, why am I starting to like it?





My presentation with the board goes flawlessly. Even my father has nothing to comment on besides basic logistical questions about my timeline. I expected more from him, so his calm facade only has me gearing up for the worst.

He’s up to something. I just don’t know what.

“Something’s off about our father.” Declan takes a seat at his desk.

“I’ve noticed the same thing. Today was different from what I came prepared for.” I take a seat diagonally from him. I’m stuck meeting with Declan on my own because Cal skipped out yet again.

“He’s too quiet about the will which only tells me he’s hiding something from us. I’m not sure what to make of it but I’m keeping an eye on him. It’s only a matter of time before he reveals his cards.” Declan rubs his bottom lip.

Iris opens the door with one elbow while juggling our two coffees and a takeout bag filled with our breakfast. “Must you eat so much, Mr. Kane? Your doctor said to watch your cholesterol since you’re getting older.”

Declan might be pushing thirty-six but he’s nothing close to old.

His eyes narrow. “What did I tell you about reading my personal file?”

Iris passes me my coffee and my breakfast sandwich. “Well, how else am I supposed to put together an informational packet for all of your potential suitors without any personal information?”

“Easy. You don’t,” he dryly replies.

“How is the wife search going?” I ask.

Iris grins as she sets up Declan’s breakfast in front of him. Despite my brother’s best efforts to remain professional, his eyes slide from me to Iris’s skirt.