The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(76)

“Who?”

“Rowan!”

My heart picks up its pace, going from a steady rhythm to erratic. “Oh, I’m sorry. You know this how?”

“He wanted to surprise you for your date.” Ani steps into my bedroom.

Date?! I’m dressed in a pair of old paint-splattered Levi’s and a sweater of the Chicago Bulls from the nineties. My fashion choice is barely suited for the local grocery store, let alone a date.

“What do you mean by date?” I call out.

“The kind where Rowan whisks you away to show you his surprise.” Ani’s yell is muffled by the distance.

Well…wow, okay. I’m all for surprises now.

“Hurry up. You’re so slow.” Ani steps out of my room with the largest suitcase I own.

“Am I moving somewhere?”

She giggles. “No, silly. Rowan asked me to pack you a couple of outfits.”

“Outfits? For what?”

She beams. “I’m under contract to not say anything else.”

“How did you even get into my apartment and pack a suitcase?”

“Claire.” Her grin is infectious.

“How far does this surprise go?” I blow a lock of hair out of my face as I grab onto the handle of my suitcase.

Ani laughs. “It’s worth it.”

My palms get slippery as I try to hold on to the luggage. I’m not sure what Rowan planned but a suitcase of this size seems like overkill.

“Don’t worry about anything. I even packed your sexy clothes.” Ani winks.

My cheeks flush. “Oh my God. You didn’t! How did you even find them?”

“A sister never reveals her secrets. Have fun!” Ani runs to my bathroom and locks herself inside.

“Claire will be home soon to make you dinner.”

“Bye, Mom! Stop worrying about me!”

I tug the door open and find Rowan leaning against the frame with his hands tucked in his pockets. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hello.” He shoots me a small smile.

I nearly melt into the welcome mat when he leans over and places the softest kiss on my forehead. A buzz starts at my head and travels all the way down to my toes.

He pulls away, taking his addictive smell with him. His hand latches onto the handle of my luggage. “We better get going. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

“Flight?” Oh shit.





My life went full-blown Dreamland princess in less than an hour. But instead of a prince on a horse, I ended up with Rowan—the perfect kind of morally gray hero I love reading about.

“Here we are.” He squeezes my thigh with his massive hand.

“Are we stopping somewhere before our flight?” I look out the window, checking out the area that is definitely not the Orlando airport.

A hint of a smile crosses Rowan’s lips as if I said something cute. Someone opens a gate, and the driver steers the Ghost onto the runway.

I blink at the sleek black jet parked on the pavement like this is a casual Friday outing. “Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t joke.”

“Liar.”

I’m rewarded with another small smile.

I wave at the plane. “When you said we had a flight to catch, I thought you meant commercial.”

“God, no.”

“Oh yes. Because mini pretzels and babies crying is so aversive.”

He nods and gives my thigh another reassuring squeeze. “Good. You get it.”

The more time I spend around Rowan, the more I realize he’s not just out of my league—he’s out of my atmosphere. “We’re seriously going on a private plane?”

“Yes.”

I mutter a thank you under my breath as his driver opens the door. I’m stuck staring at the red carpet below me.

Rowan slides out of his seat and walks around the car. “Scared you might get addicted to this kind of lifestyle?”

“That’s the last thought on my mind.” I take a hesitant step toward the red carpet. I don’t think I’ve seen one anywhere but on the TV. My sneakers seem out of place as they press into the plush fabric and my paint-splattered jeans seem absolutely ridiculous.

He buttons his jacket as he looks over his shoulder. His brows pull down as he assesses me. “What’s wrong?”

I point back and forth between us. “You look like you stepped out of a Tom Ford catalog while I resemble someone who sifted through the BOGO bin at Goodwill.” I point to my washed-out sweatshirt. “This isn’t even a Michael Jordan sweatshirt because that wasn’t an option at the thrift store.”

The corner of his lip hitches. “I like your style.” His eyes drag down my body. His hands latch onto the back pockets of my jeans and tug me toward him.

“I like my style too, but it’s not exactly private jet material.”

“Says who?”

“Me!”

“How would you know if you’ve never been on a private jet before?”

I curse up to the sky. Dammit. Why does he always have a good point? “You can be so infuriating sometimes!”

Rowan kisses my forehead like I should be rewarded for being adorable while angry.

“We should get going because we don’t want to be late.” He removes his hands from my pockets before placing one on the small of my back. With a softness I’ve grown to appreciate, he directs us up the stairs and into the jet’s private cabin.