The Fine Print: Chapter 8

“Let me get this straight. You’re going to be a Creator? How did you keep this from me all day?” Claire’s fork drops against her plate.

I’ve held back from spilling the news because I wanted to share it with my whole family during our weekly Saturday dinner. My parents are the whole reason we all work at Dreamland together, so I wanted to celebrate with them too.

Ani jumps out of her seat, making her brunette curls fly around her head. She throws her arms around me. “Yay! You did it!”

I hug my sister back, cherishing her warmth. It means the world to me to show her that nothing can get in her way, regardless of her Down syndrome diagnosis. And in other ways, she pushes me to be my best self every day with her infectious happiness.

“We need to celebrate!” My mom’s hazel eyes brighten as she runs into the kitchen.

The brown skin around Dad’s eyes wrinkles as he grins. “I’m so proud of you! I knew once the right person realized how talented you are, they wouldn’t be able to resist.”

My chest tightens. Dad has always supported me, ever since I was a little kid who said I wanted to be a Creator when I grew up. He never stopped dreaming enough for the two of us, even when I gave up on myself.

Mom steps out of the kitchen with a bottle of champagne and a few plastic champagne glasses.

“Do you have champagne bottles sitting around now?”

“Your mom was planning on opening it for our anniversary next week but today’s news calls for it.” Dad claps his hands together.

Mom places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Forget about our anniversary. We have plenty of those.”

Twenty-eight, to be exact. They’ve been solid since Dad swept Mom off her feet with his stories about Armenia and his tenacity to take her out on a date despite her weekly rejections.

Mom wraps her arms around me. “Our daughter is going to be a Creator! Did you hear that, Hayk?”

“Hard to miss since I was sitting right here.” Dad winks at her.

I sigh. That’s my parents. Voted most likely to make me nauseous with their love since the day I was born.

Mom takes her seat beside Dad. “I can’t believe Mr. Kane offered you a job after you told him how disappointing his ride was. Now that’s our daughter.” She shoots Dad a knowing look.

I grimace. “Well, I didn’t tell him that exactly…”

“She’s lying. She told him that it represented everything Brady Kane would hate if he were still alive.” Claire tips her glass of water in my direction before taking a sip.

Ani’s brown eyebrows rise. “You didn’t.”

“I might have gone a little overboard but it’s true. The design Lance submitted was only a fraction of the idea I created with Brady.”

Dad’s smile drops. He reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. “Well, the joke is on Lance. Now you have a new job and you have the chance to fix it until it’s exactly what you dreamed of.”

“I’m not sure that’s what Rowan wants.”

I’m already going into a job grossly underprepared and under-qualified. The last thing I want to do is make waves with the Creators, especially after my accidental proposal.

“If he hired you, then he has a good idea of what he’s doing,” Dad says.

I wish I felt as confident as he did in my skills. Ever since I left Rowan’s office, the worrying thoughts have multiplied until they became overwhelming.

What if I only had one good idea that Brady Kane helped take from average to amazing? What if I was a one-hit wonder who will crash and burn in front of the very people I’ve looked up to my entire life?

I hate that I’m slipping into these old thinking traps. I’m letting Lance win every time I give his criticisms any airtime in my head, and it only annoys me more.

If you don’t believe in yourself, no one will.

My family pulls me out of my thoughts. I pop the champagne bottle and raise it toward the ceiling.

Cheers, Brady.

I arrived ten minutes early today to impress Rowan with my newfound punctuality, but my efforts were for nothing. His door remains shut, so I talk Martha’s ear off. It doesn’t take us long to become gal pals who bond over our favorite romance author and our forever craving of Chick-fil-A on Sundays.

Talking with her helps pass the time.

Even Martha has to work, so I fiddle with the fabric of my polka dot dress and mess around on my phone.

The door to Rowan’s office opens with a bang. I jump in my seat and press a hand on my racing heart. Whatever coffee Rowan drinks in the morning clearly isn’t working for him. He walks out of his office without giving his secretary and me a second glance.

She all but shoves me out of my chair. “Go!”

I speed walk out of the lobby to catch up with him. It takes me double the amount of steps to keep up with his long strides because the man is tall. How does he fit through a doorframe without ducking his head?

As we continue walking, the silence eats away at me until I burst.

“I’m starting to think you’re not much of a morning person.” I somehow find myself matching his strides.

Rowan grunts under his breath. He leads us toward the Story Street Catacombs entrance.

“Wonderful weather, am I right?”

Someone cue the crickets. “Why yes, Zahra, I was wondering what’s the point of showering in the morning if the humidity does the job for me?” I try to imitate his voice with a low pitch but fail when my voice cracks.

The corner of his lip lifts the tiniest bit and I mentally fist pump in the air.

I take another stab at rescuing this conversation. “How do you like Dreamland so far?”

“I don’t,” he mumbles under his breath.

I trip on the toe of my sneaker. “Oh.” Well, shit. I didn’t expect him to say that. “Do you have a favorite ride?”

“No.”

My brain cells all cheer for his response. We’re getting somewhere, people. “Me neither! There are too many good ones.”

That earns me another grunt.

“What’s your favorite part about being the Director?”

“The silence at the end of the workday.”

I flat out lose it. My lungs burn from laughing so hard at his response. He stops walking and stares at me for a second before recovering.

He leads us through the tunnels like he does this all the time. Together, we walk up a pair of stairs and through a door marked The Creators’ Workspace. My breath catches as we walk into a massive warehouse, partitioned into four sections with tall dividers. A certain smell wafts through the air, reminding me of an elementary school art class.

Rowan shuffles me through each room, staying quiet as I take in the beauty of it all. The first space is packed with animatronics and robots for rides, parades, and shows. I run a hand across a cold metal arm of an animatronic. It moves and I jump back and straight into Rowan’s chest. His hand clutches onto my arm to stabilize me. Every cell fires off in unison within me, sparking to life at the gentleness of his touch.

My body becomes an inferno from the contact. Skin heats where his hand presses, and I find myself leaning into him. He releases me and exits the room like his shoes might catch on fire.

I keep up with his hurried pace, following him into a designer’s paradise where the walls are covered with storyboards and the tables are filled with all kinds of art supplies.

The next room features many tables covered in mini 3D models of Dreamland, and I’m blown away by the attention to detail. I lean over one, finding an exact replica of Fairy Tale Land and Princess Cara’s Castle. I can’t help myself from running my index finger across one of the spires.

My neck prickles and I look over my shoulder to find Rowan staring at my ass.

Oh my God. Is he attracted to me? As if he has the same thought, his lips press into a thin line. My scoff becomes a full-blown belly laugh as I curl over. He blinks a couple of times, erasing the look of darkness from his eyes.

“Are you ready to meet everyone or are you still interested in wasting company time with your tour?” he snaps before moving toward the door.

I don’t bother correcting him about who started this tour. I’m not too sure who he’s trying to fool here because I see right through him. But the real question is why? Why bother giving me a moment to take in my surroundings like this? Why lead me through the warehouse himself rather than throw the task on someone more willing and available?

I remember Brady mentioning how Rowan loved visiting the warehouse when he was a child. Is he enjoying this walk-through as much as I am? If so, why is he so angry now?

Rowan is like a secret code I want to crack—a human Fort Knox I’m interested in breaking into, if only to uncover a vaulted heart full of gold. Or maybe that’s just the hopeful part of me that wonders if Rowan is truly as sweet as Brady described him to be.

I follow him into the final room packed with Creators, and the main room seems to be a gathering space surrounded by rows of cubicles. The room is paradise, with bean bag chairs, dry erase walls, and 3D simulation stations.

Welcome to your new home. I can’t believe I’m finally here. Brady was right. It was only a matter of time before I would find myself officially trading in my old work badge for a Creator one.

What would he think of me now?

He might have told you to lay off the wine and write something while sober, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I blink away the mistiness in my eyes.

Rowan introduces me to the Creators, who he refers to as the Alpha and Beta teams. Different members welcome me to the warehouse. My heart squeezes in my chest at their eagerness and the idea of working by their side.

Jenny, a brunette woman who is the head of the Beta team, claims me as a member of her group once Rowan steps away from me. I look back at him to check if this is part of the plan.

Rowan offers me a bored look. “Go on.” He looks around the room. “Get back to work, everyone.”

Everyone follows his royal decree like the faithful foot soldiers we are to the Kane brand.

Jenny takes the time to show me my new workspace. My jaw drops open as I take a look inside my cubicle. I’ve never had my own office, and I’m in awe at the L-shaped desk in the corner with dual monitor screens taking up a chunk of space. There’s even a shiny new laptop in one corner, just waiting to be opened up.

I drop into the luxurious rolling chair and run a hand over the ergonomic keyboard.

Look at me, having grown-up things like a desk and my very own stapler. I click it twice to make sure I’m not dreaming.

Jenny readjusts her already pristine ponytail. “We’re thrilled to have you as a part of our team, Zahra. I’m glad Sam backed down pretty fast during our fight for you.”

“A fight over me?” The words seem ridiculous leaving my mouth.

She grins. “Don’t worry. I took it easy on him. I laid on the fake tears and he broke down quicker than a McDonald’s ice cream machine.”

We laugh. Compared to Regina, Jenny is a breath of fresh air.

“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.

What if jerks are my kink?

Well, at least it explains your unhealthy obsession with Mr. Darcy.

I barely get my breathing under control before he rises back on his feet.

Something about the way he looks at me has my blood reaching a new temperature. Goosebumps scatter across my skin despite the raging inferno spreading through my chest. It comforts me to know my body is just as contradictory as my brain.

Why him? Why me? My smile disappears. His hand flexes by his side before he pockets it.

Jane Austen, are you my guardian angel now? I look up at the high ceiling for answers but come up empty.

“What in God’s name are you whispering about?”

Oh shit. I said that aloud? “Is the computer all fixed now?” Sounds close enough to what I mumbled before.

“Yes.”

“Great. Thanks! You can see yourself out.” I throw his words back at him, half hoping for any kind of reaction. He offers me nothing but a frown and a pinched expression on his face.

Well, it’s a start.

He walks toward the entrance of the cubicle, taking his allure with him. Maybe I can finally think again once he’s out of my eyesight. There’s something about him that throws me off-kilter, like I don’t know what to say or do anymore.

He strolls out of my cubicle, leaving me behind with all the thoughts bouncing around in my head. I take a deep cleansing breath only to get hit with another inhale of his cologne.

Why does he have to smell so damn good? My head drops into my hands, muffling my frustrated groan.

I recover and hesitantly press the power button on my computer.

Let’s get to work.