The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires Book 1)
The Fine Print: Chapter 9

I give my presentation one last look through. After Jenny’s kind words, I thought I beat back the self-doubt, but it decided to come back with a vengeance.

I groan as I reassess the drawing I created of Nebula Land. While the PowerPoint reflects everything that Brady and I designed together, my sketch proves why I’m an English major. If I was meant to be an artist, I’d move to New York with all the other starving talent and eat ramen every day of the week until I have my big break.

Can I really present this to the group? My skills seem on par with a two-year-old child learning how to hold a crayon for the first time. It’s not like Rowan expects us to be perfect at everything, but my drawings are far from it. And seeing as I have zero skills in anything Adobe-related, I’m stuck relying on my own two hands, which are severely lacking.

I sigh as I add a photo of my drawing to the last slide of my presentation. Maybe if I go over my allotted time slot, I could hold off on showing this tragedy.

Now that’s an idea. I wipe my damp forehead before packing up all of my supplies. “Here goes nothing.”

I enter the conference room with my head held high. Everyone smiles up at me before resuming their tasks, and I take a seat toward the back. Despite the group lunches and brainstorming sessions, I still feel like an outsider. My addition to the team was anything but traditional, and I’m afraid people think I’m being favored because I fast-tracked my way into a Creator job.

Jenny walks into the room and starts up the projector. “So who wants to go first?”

A bunch of hands shoot into the air. I don’t bother lifting my arm because worry weighs mine down like an anvil.

Jenny calls on the Creator closest to her. They stand at the front of the room and crush their presentation on an update to Princess Cara’s Castle. While their idea is nice in theory, it’s just that. Nice. Not riveting or enthralling, and even Jenny can’t suppress her yawn halfway through the discussion.

The conference room door slides open and everyone’s heads turn toward the sound. The presenter stops mid-sentence.

No! As if this day can’t get any worse. Rowan waltzes into the space without a care in the world. Today he wears a gray suit that has my mouth watering and my thighs pressing together. The charcoal color brings out the severity in his gaze. His muscles shift under the luxurious fabric as he settles into the chair at the front of the room.

“Proceed as usual.”

His air of authority shouldn’t be considered an attractive trait to me, but there’s something about the way he commands a room that has me wanting more.

The rest of the team sits pin straight in their chairs as the presenter finishes their speech. One by one, Creators take the podium. The series of ideas all follow a similar pattern—some updates here, some immersive line experiences there. I begin questioning if my presentation is too bold for this kind of setting, especially with Rowan right there.

With each presentation, Rowan’s frown becomes more pronounced. His reactions add to my already fraying nerves. I’ve suffered from stage fright since I was a little kid, but I don’t remember it being this bad. My hands remain permanently clammy and my breathing grows heavier with each presentation.

“Zahra. You’re up,” Jenny calls out.

I rise on wobbly legs. If the pressure I placed on myself wasn’t enough already, now it’s hit a whole new level of distressing with Rowan’s gaze glued to mine.

“Move along with it. I have another meeting in twenty minutes.” Rowan taps the face of his watch with finality.

I’m tempted to run out the door, but I control the urge and set up my presentation. With a deep breath, I dive into explaining my idea. I feed off the team’s nonverbals, letting their nods and smiles boost my confidence. My self-esteem grows, and I nail my entire explanation without passing out. I count the entire thing as a major win.

When I get to the dreaded final slide with the drawing, I click it so fast that the black screen pops up not a second later. Jenny’s timer rings simultaneously, and I thank the big man upstairs for saving me. “Looks like I’m out of time.”

People clap and Jenny looks over at me with a massive grin and a thumbs-up.

“Go back to the last slide.” Rowan’s voice hits me like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh, it’s nothing important. Just a mock-up. And you have a meeting now anyway.”

His nostrils flare. “I wasn’t asking.”

Of course you weren’t. That requires the kind of manners you’re severely lacking.

His jaw ticks. “Now, Ms. Gulian.”

I mentally curse him in English, Spanish, and Armenian for good measure. “It’s really nothing.” I hide my shaky hands behind the podium.

“I’ll be the one to decide that.”

My teeth smash together as I bring up the drawing. I wouldn’t have included it if we weren’t required to have some kind of visual aid of our proposal. And of course, if I didn’t need another reason not to fit in, I’m one of the only Creators who can’t draw to save my life.

The self-doubt comes back again, picking away at the newfound confidence I built throughout my presentation.

Rowan runs a hand across his chin. “Your drawings could use some work.”

“I’ll be sure to get right on that.” My voice is doused in sarcasm.

The entire room goes silent. I wish I could slap a hand over my mouth and apologize.

Rowan appears unbothered. “Everyone better come back with better ideas next Friday. I was underwhelmed to say the least.”

Shit. The entire team’s faces mirror my own shock. No one dares to move, probably too afraid to do anything but stare at Rowan.

He tilts his head toward the projector. “Use Ms. Gulian’s presentation as a guide for what I expect from here on out. Minus the last slide.”

My cheeks heat.

“Everyone is dismissed except for Ms. Gulian.”

Something takes flight in my stomach at the way he says my name. It’s quickly doused by the reality of my situation. He wants me to stay alone with him. Here?

Team members funnel out of the room like the floor is lava. Rowan doesn’t move from his seat until the last member shuts the door behind them. He prowls toward the podium, giving me no room to escape his thousand-pound stare.

My back hits the wooden frame as I try to put distance between us. I don’t want to test my self-control around him because I feel like it’s a losing battle. After he embarrassed me in front of everyone, the temptation to wrap my hands around his neck and give it a squeeze is too strong to be ignored.

“If you talk to me like that in front of anyone again—”

“Let me guess. You’ll fire me. It’s a bit predictable for my taste but I respect it since you’re the man in charge.”

He stares at me like he can’t believe I spoke to him the way I did. Honestly, me neither. And I can’t exactly blame a bottle of wine for this level of bravery and stupidity. There’s something about him that makes me want to push all his buttons. I’m interested in seeing who the real Rowan is beneath all those layers of ice and indifference.

His brows scrunch. “There are worse things I’m capable of.”

A chill shoots down my spine. “Like?”

“I don’t think you want to replace out.”

I pretend I’m unbothered by his threat despite my racing heart. “You better have a massive dick to back up that attitude or else people will be mighty disappointed.”

“Care to bring out a ruler and test your theory?”

“I left my magnifying glass at home, so maybe tomorrow.” I’m pretty sure the angel on my shoulder has left the building.

Something shifts between us. His eyes darken as they assess me. I’m not sure if he wants to choke me, fire me, or fuck me into submission. “Are you always this impossible?”

“I don’t know. Are you always this much of an asshole?”

One second he’s scowling at me and the next his lips are slamming into mine.

Wait, what?!

My brain goes haywire and my eyes shut as Rowan devours my mouth. Both of his hands clutch onto the podium behind me, trapping my body between his thick forearms.

He kisses in the same way he does everything else—with practiced precision and restrained power. I’m tempted to drive him wild because all that pent-up anger must go somewhere. I’ll happily volunteer as tribute.

I’m a lost cause to my inhibitions as I kiss him back. My hands fist the front of his suit and I hold on like I might fall if I let go.

This is so wrong. He’s your BOSS!

Rowan kisses away each thought. Our tongues lash out against one another in a silent battle. Kissing Rowan is a completely new experience. Toxic to the point of overdosing and erotic enough to leave me aching for more. A kiss filled with so much passion, it seems like he might die if he stops. Hell, I might drop dead if he keeps going.

But what a way to go.

Rowan presses his body into mine. I’m hit with a rush down my spine as he rocks his erection into me. I don’t need any kind of tool to determine he’s big. I moan and he sucks up the sound. He pushes harder, and I feel him everywhere.

The wheels of the podium roll, and the entire thing moves. I lose my footing. Rowan latches onto my arm before my ass has the chance to hit the carpet.

I rip my arm out of his grasp. He looks at me with dilated pupils and swollen lips. My eyes drop to the bulge that I was very interested in only a few seconds ago. I nearly stumble from the sheer size of whatever he has hidden beneath his slacks.

I can’t believe I did that to my boss. What was I thinking?!

I wipe my mouth with my hand as if it can erase the memory of his lips, but it’s a hopeless cause. He might as well have branded my lips with his initials.

“Shit.” The lust disappears from his eyes, gone in the blink of an eye. His chest rises with each ragged breath.

I snap out of his trance. I’m on an escape mission as I rush to grab my purse and bolt from the room, leaving a silent Rowan behind.

I’m not sure what the hell happened, but I lock our kiss away in the never think about again if I value my life file, located in the darkest corner of my brain. Right next to the stupid shit I did while drunk and dick pics categories.