The Fine Print （Dreamland Billionaires #1）
Lauren Asher
To the girls who dream of meeting a prince
but end up falling for the misunderstood villain.
Playlist
Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked – Cage the Elephant Oh, What a World – Kacey Musgraves My Own Monster – X Ambassadors Cloudy Day – Tones And I Flaws – Bastille
Rare Bird – Caitlyn Smith Lasso – Phoenix
Bubbly – Colbie Caillat Believe – Mumford & Sons Take a Chance On Me – ABBA From Eden – Hozier
Could Be Good – Kat Cunning R U Mine? – Artic Monkeys 34+35 – Ariana Grande
Ho Hey – The Lumineers
Can’t Help Falling in Love – Haley Reinhart Wildfire – Cautious Clay White Horse （Taylor’s Version） – Taylor Swift Need the Sun to Break – James Bay Landslide （Remastered） – Fleetwood Mac Missing Piece – Vance Joy Dreams – The Cranberries
1
Rowan
The last time I attended a funeral, I ended up with a broken arm. The story made headlines after I threw myself into my mother’s open grave. It’s been over two decades since that day, and while I’ve completely changed as a person, my aversion to mourning hasn’t. But due to my responsibilities as my late grandfather’s youngest relative, I’m expected to stand tall and unbothered during his wake. It’s nearly impossible, with my skin itching like I’m wearing a cheap polyester suit.
My patience wanes as the hours go on, with hundreds of Kane employees and business partners offering their condolences. If there’s anything I hate more than funerals, it’s talking to people. There are only a few individuals I tolerate, and my grandfather was one of them.
And now he’s gone.
The burning sensation in my chest intensifies. I don’t know why it bothers me as much as it does. I’ve had time to prepare while he was in a coma yet the strange sensation above my rib cage returns with a vengeance whenever I think of him.
I run a hand through my dark hair to give myself something to do.
“I’m sorry for your loss, son.” A nameless attendee interrupts my thoughts.
“Son?” The one word leaves my mouth with enough venom to make the man wince.
The gentleman centers his tie across his chest with fumbling hands. “I’m—well—uh.”
“Excuse my brother. He’s struggling with his grief.” Cal places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. His vodka and mint-coated breath hits my face, making me scowl. My middle brother might look dressed to the nines in a pressed suit and perfectly styled blond hair, but his red-rimmed eyes tell a completely different story.
The man mumbles a few words I don’t bother listening to before heading for the nearest exit.
“Struggling with my grief?” Although I don’t like the idea of my grandfather’s passing, I’m not struggling with anything but uncomfortable heartburn today.
“Relax. That’s the kind of thing people say at funerals.” Two blond brows pull together as Cal stares me down.
“I don’t need an excuse for my behavior.”
“No, but you need a reason for scaring off our biggest Shanghai hotel investor.”
“Fuck.” There’s a reason I prefer solitude. Small talk requires far too much effort and diplomacy for my taste.
“Can you try to be nicer for one more hour? At least until all the important people leave?”
“This is me trying.” My left eye twitches as I press my lips together.