Terms and Conditions: Chapter 13

“More shots!” Rowan’s girlfriend, Zahra, clutches a bottle of tequila in her hand. She wobbles on her heels, and Rowan swoops in to stabilize her.

My stomach does a little flip at the loving gesture. Watching them interact is nauseating, with Zahra smiling up at Rowan like he hung the moon for her. I’m oddly fascinated by their interactions given my limited exposure to happy couples over the years. Maybe there is some hope after all if someone as grumpy and isolated as Rowan could look at a woman like that.

I shouldn’t be bitter at my own wedding but seeing as my husband has avoided me as much as humanly possible after we cut the cake, I’m not doing too well. Something shifted in him ever since the church, and I can’t help but wonder if it was our kiss.

“What did we say about tequila?” Rowan plucks the bottle out of Zahra’s hand.

“That we should never trust a man named Jose.” She crosses her arms with a pout and drops into the chair beside me, making the material of her dress poof around her.

Rowan’s chest shakes from silent laughter as he pulls up a chair beside Zahra.

Cal grabs the bottle and pours tequila into four shot glasses. “You can’t leave a wedding sober. It’s sacrilegious.”

“You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word,” Rowan replies.

“My wedding, my rules!” I pass Zahra a shot glass.

“Whatever the bride says goes.” Zahra grins as she knocks back her shot. She leans into Rowan and whispers something in his ear. Whatever she says has him swallowing the first shot before pouring himself a second one.

He tucks her hair behind her ear and whispers something in return that has her cheeks blushing.

Gross. I grab my glass and pull it to my lips. Except the rim never touches my mouth because it’s stolen straight from my hand.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Declan’s rough voice does something to my heart rate.

Cal waves the tequila bottle in Declan’s direction. “Come on. Sit down with us and have a celebratory shot.”

Declan shoots Cal a scathing look. “I think you’ve done enough celebrating.”

“She’s a big girl. If she wants to drink on her wedding night, it’s her choice.”

“She’s right here.” I stand on my two feet. The room spins around me, and I grab the back of my chair to catch myself. “I’m fine. Stop fussing over me.”

“You smell like spring break in Mexico.”

Something about his comment has me muffling my laugh with a shaky palm.

His lips pull down into a frown. I take a few wobbly steps toward him before clutching onto his tux so I don’t fall over. I use one hand to push the corner of his scowl up into a smile. “There. All better.”

“We’re going home.” Declan’s arm wraps around me. The move reminds me of our kiss in the church, which only makes my cheeks hot underneath a pound of makeup.

I pout. “But why?”

“You’re intoxicated.”

“It’s a wedding! Our wedding!” I struggle to focus on Declan’s three heads. “Hey, why aren’t you drunk?”

His three heads merge into one angry version. “Because one of us has some self-control,” he snaps.

“It’s all Cal’s fault!” I blurt out.

“Hey!” Cal throws his arms up.

“He did steal a bottle from the bar. I saw him take it myself,” Rowan backs me up.

Declan points at Rowan. “Don’t get me started on you.”

The way the three of them interact has me raising a brow in Zahra’s direction. “See. I told you they never get along.”

Zahra smiles. “Yet.”

“I like her already,” I say aloud instead of in my head.

“Let’s go,” Declan snaps.

“Don’t forget to text me! I want all the details,” Zahra yells.

I throw her a thumbs-up over my shoulder. Turns out she is the only other person besides Cal and Rowan who knows about the whole sham. Not that I would tell Declan. I’m pretty sure he would murder Rowan for risking our big secret like that.

Declan steers me toward the exit of the ballroom.

“Wait!” the wedding planner yells. “You can’t go yet! We haven’t even tossed the bouquet!”

Declan lets out the longest sigh ever. My chest vibrates from withheld laughter.

He turns me toward him. “What’s so funny about this?”

“You hate every second of this.”

“Are we getting off on each other’s displeasure now?”

“Like you’re one to judge. That’s your favorite kind of foreplay.”

His reddened cheeks make me smile.

One point for Team Iris.

Tati has the DJ request for all the ladies to gather around on the dance floor for the bouquet toss. Declan holds on to me as if he’s scared I might topple over due to my unsteadiness. I imagine he only does so because he wants to make sure people buy our marriage.

So much for forgetting about what he said in the church.

My mom passes me the bouquet with a knowing smile. “I was holding onto it for you.”

“You’re the bestest mom in the whole wide world.”

She shakes her head. “Take care of my girl, Declan. Try to get her to sleep before she enters the drunk crying phase.”

“Tell me she’s joking,” he orders as my mom walks away.

I giggle.

“Fuck me.”

I pat his cheek. “Only in your dreams, sweet husband of mine.”

“Did you burn off all your brain cells tonight?”

“Come on!” a woman yells. “Get on with it, you two!”

I turn around, giving the crowd my back.

“One. Two. Three!” I launch the bouquet over my head.

I turn on my heels and almost slip from the rush, only for Declan to catch me and pull me into his firm chest.

Firm chest? Ugh. Maybe you are drunk after all.

The bouquet lands in someone’s open arms with a slap. I don’t recognize the woman who caught it, but the crowd around her squeals as they try to latch onto my bouquet with greedy hands.

“Finally.” Declan moves us toward the door before the DJ announces Declan’s turn with the garter belt.

Oh shit.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I bristle as he squeezes my hip. Cal slaps a hundred-dollar bill in the DJ’s hand as Rowan drags a chair out to the middle of the dance floor.

Cal waltzes over to help me into the chair, being mindful of the layers of lace and tulle swirling around me like a parachute. “Careful, Iris, your husband bites.”

An unobservable blush spreads from my head to my toes.

“I hate you both.” Declan’s eyes move back and forth between Cal and Rowan.

On cue, the DJ plays the most sensual song known to man. My tummy has a thousand little champagne bubbles popping along to the beat, all while my heart rate picks up speed.

Declan bends a knee and settles into a comfortable position in front of me. His left hand shakes again before he fists it, just like it did when everyone watched us slow dance earlier.

Turns out he is human after all.

I tug him out of his nervous thoughts.

“You look good on your knees, Mr. Kane.”

“Try to not let it get to your head.” The corners of his lips twitch into that usual Declan smile. A flash of a camera goes off, catching the moment.

His hand touches my covered thigh, barely leaving a dent from the layers of material. “This is wrong,” he mutters.

“You’re right. I feel absolutely scandalized,” I speak in an off-key British accent.

His head shakes as a noise that I interpret as a laugh breaks free from him. “You’re so drunk.”

“No. I’m buzzed.”

“What’s the square root of 64?”

“Eight, fuck you very much.”

He shrugs. “Sober enough.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t reply as he lifts the fabric of my dress ever so carefully so no one catches a glimpse of me down there. My lungs squeeze, trying to take in oxygen as Declan disappears under my gown.

“Remember, no hands!” Cal calls out, and the crowd hoots and hollers. Declan pops a blind arm out and flips his middle finger in Cal’s general direction. A few people laugh while others gasp, probably as shocked as me at Declan’s rare display of feelings.

I tune them all out, focusing on the heightened experience. The scrape of Declan’s stubble against my calf. The brush of his hair on the inside of my thighs as he parts them with his head. The feel of his teeth grazing the skin around the garter, accompanied by the press of his soft lips as he clamps down around the frilly piece of lace.

I shiver, and a vibration of his throat tells me Declan noticed and laughed.

I hate him. I hate my husband so much, he is lucky I don’t choke him with the damn thing once he comes back up for air.

Declan drags the garter belt down my leg. He pulls out from underneath my skirt with the strip of white lace stuck between his teeth. With an angry yank, he tugs the material from his mouth and launches it in the air without sparing it a second glance.

“Enjoy your evening, everyone.” Declan doesn’t bother helping me up from the chair. He swoops me out of the seat and cradles me, full bridal style, adding to the crowd’s excitement.

I tap on his shoulder. “Umm, Declan?”

“What?” His eyes soften.

“You’re supposed to carry me into the house, not out of here.”

He sighs like I’m the biggest inconvenience in the world. “You couldn’t walk a straight line out the door in flats, let alone in those shoes.”

“Hmm.”

His brows pull together. “What?”

“Maybe you care about me after all.”

“That’s the alcohol talking.”

I sigh. “Jose does have a way with words.”

His arms tighten around me. “Who the fuck is Jose?”

I grin into the lapel of his jacket. “Nobody important.”

“Good, then at least no one will miss him when he’s dead.”

One might think Declan would soften a bit toward me now that I am officially his wife.

Wrong.

The moment Harrison pulls up in the Maybach, Declan all but throws me in the back seat. I drop into the quilted leather with an oomph, and the material of my dress fans around me like a cloud.

“Would it kill you to be gentle?” I peek up at him.

Declan ignores me as he shuts the door in my face. I’m almost positive some of my dress hangs outside, caught in the doorjamb.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I grumble.

His elderly driver nearly trips over his feet to beat Declan to his door. Poor Harrison is probably afraid to lose his job based on the scary look on Declan’s face. Not that I blame him.

But what triggered his anger? Declan doesn’t spare me another glance as he takes a seat, which only adds to the weight pressing against my chest.

“You’re acting like a child.”

Crickets.

“Are you just going to ignore me the whole time?”

The only reply I get is the revving of the engine as Declan’s driver takes off.

“Fine.” I go to mess around with the dial to play some music, but Declan shoots me a look that has me pulling my hand back.

After a whole five minutes of silence, my tequila-riddled brain gives in.

“I forgot how fun a wedding could be. It’s been years since I went to one.”

Declan remains silent as he continues scrolling through his phone.

“It was nice to meet Rowan’s girlfriend. She’s sweet.”

His hand holding the phone tightens. Hmm. Interesting.

“I don’t know why you don’t like her. It’s not her fault Rowan chose Dreamland over becoming CFO. You should give her a fair shot at least.”

The tic in his jaw makes another appearance, yet he doesn’t bother looking at me. Come on. Give me something to work with.

“They invited us out to dinner tomorrow night and since we aren’t going on a honeymo—”

Declan’s head snaps up. “We are not going to dinner with them.”

“But you’ve barely spoken to Rowan since he decided to stay in Dreamland. I think it would be nice to spend some time with them while they’re in town—”

“I don’t pay you to be concerned over family matters.”

I clench a fistful of my dress. “Lucky for you I’m doing this for free.”

His eyes return to the screen of his phone. “Don’t bother. I’m not going to dinner with Rowan and his girlfriend.”

“Zahra. Her name is Zahra.”

“Her name is as irrelevant as her relationship is with my brother.”

I can’t remove the horrific look off my face. “God, your ability to hold a grudge is terrifying.”

“Consider it a lesson to not get on my bad side.”

“Lately it’s starting to feel like every side is your bad side.”

“Who knew having a wife would be this good for my ego?” His voice takes on a sarcastic tone.

“It’s a wife’s job to call you out on your bullshit because the rest of the world sure as hell won’t. Not when they’re too afraid to speak up around you.”

“What part of we’re not a real couple do you find difficult to understand?”

My chest tightens. I thought Declan and I were falling into a comfortable friendship, but his mood tonight has me questioning if he was only entertaining me so I wouldn’t back out of our arrangement.

His words from the night of our engagement come back to haunt me. There is nothing I won’t do to earn my inheritance. Remember that when you forget this is only a game to me.

Is that what this all was? A game? Now that he got his way, there’s no reason to play anymore. The idea causes a weird ache in my chest, right above my heart.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. There’s no one to blame but myself. Declan was always clear about his intentions, and I stupidly read into our relationship all wrong.

Why do you care in the first place? This isn’t even real.

Because maybe somewhere along the way, I forgot that all of this was a lie.

I don’t speak to Declan for the remainder of the drive. If ignoring each other was a sport, we would both be team captains with the way neither one of us speaks.

Once Harrison parks the car, I fight my way past pounds of tulle and lace and exit with as much grace as a newborn horse.

“Iris,” Declan calls after me.

I don’t turn around. I’m too afraid that all my emotions will be written clear as day across my face. “I’m going to bed.”

“You forgot your purse.”

The urge to stomp my foot hits me but I refrain. “Right.” Stupid purse. I knew I should have gone with the wedding dress that had pockets.

I turn back, avoiding his eyes as I pull open the door and search the empty back seat.

“Here.” His chest presses against my spine as he traps me between the car and his body. I turn, attempting to avoid skin-to-skin contact and fail. The front of his tux brushes against my bodice, sending a ripple of heat through me.

He offers my clutch. The glittery Mrs. Kane shines underneath the overhead lights, looking just as horrendous as the day the wedding planner gifted me the accessory. Based on the expression on Declan’s face, he equally dislikes the way his name is flaunted like a show pony. I might not have experienced the same issues as him growing up, but I’m starting to understand him a bit more. Based on the way people treated me at the wedding, becoming a Kane feels like an open invitation for clout chasers and career climbers to have at me.

I stare down at the clutch, which serves as a reminder of my duty. Of the promise I made to Declan to stand by him no matter what.

No matter how much he schemes to get his way.

“Do you mind?” I gesture for him to move back.

He steps out of the way. I attempt to make my escape, only to be held back by Declan gripping onto my elbow. His hold doesn’t hurt, but it speaks a silent request.

Stay.

But why?

“Yes?” I ask.

“Is it that bad?”

I look up at him. “What?”

“The idea of becoming my wife.”

I swear, the rise and fall of his moods tonight is driving me insane.

“And you care about my opinion all of a sudden? I’m not sure you pay me enough for that kind of service.”

His jaw clenches. “Answer the question.”

“No.”

“Must you always be this impossible?”

“I don’t know. Must you always act like an asshole?”

“It’s not an act.”

I rear back, ripping my elbow from his grasp. “Trust me. It might have taken me much longer than others, but I finally understand why everyone calls you that.”

His long blink speaks for itself. “What?”

“The way you treated me tonight—on our wedding night no less—is unacceptable. But I guess you couldn’t care less about how or when you hurt other people’s feelings, as long as you get your way.”

“What I said in the car—”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault for setting unrealistic expectations about us in the first place.”

His eyes narrow ever so slightly.

I keep going, wanting to clear the air once and for all. “I never did all of this for love. Obviously.” An awkward laugh forces its way out of me. “I only wanted to help you because I thought we were friends. And yes, before you say you never wanted to be my friend, I’m aware it was probably stupid to think that. I’ve since learned my lesson.”

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “I realize I don’t want to be your friend either. Because getting close to you means questioning your motives about everything, and frankly, that’s way too much effort for someone who doesn’t seem to like me in the first place.”