The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(80)

“Ouch.” I rub my forehead that didn’t survive the fight with his muscles. “Are you okay?”

“Ask me tomorrow when my lungs start working again.”

I drop my forehead against his chest and laugh until the cold air burns my lungs. He wraps his arms around me, and together, we lose it on a dirty sidewalk covered in snow.

Best date ever.





38





Rowan





I guess I didn’t do too bad. Zahra’s had a permanent grin plastered across her face since she found out about the book signing. My only mistake was not swearing Juliana to secrecy about the reason behind the event.

I don’t want Zahra to look too much into things. But part of me wonders if it’s too late for that based on the way she smiles at me like I make her genuinely happy.

My driver drops us off back at the penthouse.

This elevator ride is different from the last, with Zahra cracking open her books like she wants to double-check for any water damage after our tumble. She’s done it twice already, but I don’t fault her for being protective over her new prized possessions.

We stroll into the apartment, and Zahra scurries away to put her books back in her luggage and take a shower. I do the same, changing into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a faded Dreamland logo.

“So, what’s the plan?” She walks down the stairs in a matching jogger set. The fabric outlines every curve on her body, and I find it difficult to be a decent man and look away. Except I’m not anything close to proper when it comes to Zahra, so I take the time to check her out.

She rounds the counter and looks up at me. “You’re going to burn a hole through my clothes if you keep staring at me like that.”

“Remove your clothes then. Problem solved.” I grab onto her hips and tug her closer.

She places a hand against my chest, right above my heart. It races faster in my chest at the registration of her touch.

Her stomach lets out the loudest protest ever. She slaps a hand over it. “How embarrassing.”

I cringe at my lack of thinking. We haven’t eaten anything since the quick lunch on the plane.

I release her and walk to the drawer filled with takeout menus. “Take your pick.”

She flips through the brochures and mini menus before plucking out one for pizza. “When in New York?” She lifts a shoulder.

“You pick that when you could have Ruth’s Chris takeout?”

“Who’s Ruth Chris?”

I groan. “Pizza it is.”

Dinner arrives an hour later, and I set it up on the coffee table. We both settle onto the accent rug in front of the massive fireplace in the middle of the living room. I’ve never enjoyed eating at a dining table. It reminds me of the time when my mother was alive, back when my father would make it home sober enough for us to eat as a family.

“So you said this was one of your properties. How many do you have exactly?” She takes a big bite of her pizza.

I do the mental math. “Twenty-eight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Her cheeks lose some of their color. “Okay. Wow. Which one is your favorite?”

I take a bite of my pizza to give me enough time to consider her question. “Honestly, I don’t have one.”

Her mouth gapes apart. “None of them feel like home?”

“Home is wherever I’m needed for work.”

She gapes at me.

“There’s some climates I prefer more than others. Like Chicago is great in the summer but my dick is subject to frostbite during the winter.”

“And Dreamland?”

I toe around her question carefully. “Dreamland is different.”

“How so?”

“There were a lot of bad memories there for me.”

Her brows pull together. “Oh. It’s surprising you wanted to become the Director then.”

“I was interested in taking the park to the next level. It was in my best interest to move past the issues holding me back.”

It’s not technically a lie. Yet her smile still feels like a punch to the gut.

You have no choice but to keep the whole truth from her. You’re too close to finishing to jeopardize everything now.

She smiles. “Do you feel better about being there now?”

“I met someone who makes my time there tolerable.”

The flush spreading across her cheeks makes my stomach roll. It’s hard to eat anything. “Tolerable? I’ve got to step it up.”

She’s done more than enough. I clear my throat. “Enough questions about me. I’m curious about something.”

“What?”

“Tell me about your pins.”

Her entire body language changes from the one question. “It’s not a cute story.” She looks out at the view behind me.

“I didn’t ask for one.” I grab her hand like she’s done for me every time I need to talk about something difficult.

Her body loosens, and she releases a deep breath. “The first day I attended therapy was the same day I got my very first pin.”

I could never imagine someone like Zahra going to therapy. My father told me it was for weak people who were so pathetic, they needed someone else to solve their problems.