3
Zahra
I slam the door to my locker shut.
“What’s got you all upset?” Claire takes a seat on the bench across from me and puts on her flats. Her dark, shoulder-length hair curtains around her face, and she shoves it out of the way.
“I met the biggest jerk this morning during the meeting. And you won’t believe who it was.”
“Who?!”
“Rowan Kane.”
“Get the fuck out!” My roommate’s brown eyes go wide.
A couple heads snap in our direction. Mrs. Jeffries fumbles for her cross necklace as she stares at us.
“Claire.” I groan.
“He’s Dreamland royalty. Excuse my shock.”
“Trust me. Some things are better left to the imagination.”
Whatever sweet stories Brady shared about his youngest grandson were nothing but a fantasy. The rumors circulating Dreamland were right. Rowan has earned a reputation as a ruthless businessman known to stir up the same level of happiness as animal euthanasia. He first gained attention after being the tie-breaker vote against increasing the minimum wage for employees. Because of him, The Kane Company has continued to pay their employees pennies for their hard work. His reign of terror was solidified over the years. He has cut back on employee’s paid vacation days, swapped our health insurance plan for one that hurts rather than helps, and laid off thousands of employees.
Rowan might have the looks of an angel but the rest of him is pure sin.
Claire tugs on my dress. “Well, tell me! Does he smell as good as he looks?”
“No.” Yes. But I’m not about to tell Claire that.
Not only did Rowan smell amazing, but his company photo doesn’t do him justice. Rowan is beautiful in an unapproachable kind of way. Like a marble statue surrounded by a red velvet rope, tempting me to cross into forbidden territory for one single touch. His cheekbones seem sharp enough to cut while his lips look soft enough to kiss. And based on the part I pinched and the thigh I touched, he is packed with lean muscle. He seems perfect, looking every bit like a pretty boy with his perfectly styled brown hair, pressed suit, and deep caramel-colored eyes.
That is until he opens his mouth.
“Okay, let’s ignore the fact that he’s a jerk and talk more about if he’s single or not.” She bats her lashes.
“Last time I checked, he isn’t your type.” I shove her shoulder, knowing she doesn’t give a damn about boys. She declared herself gay during high school and never blinked at men ever again.
“Bitch, I’m asking for you, not me.”
I run a hand down my purple renaissance costume. “Seeing as he told me that my job wasn’t important enough to be missed, I’m not interested. Not to mention he’s our boss.” Even though Dreamland doesn’t have any rules against fraternization, I’ve officially labeled Rowan off-limits. Been there, done that, and bought the souvenir. My ex-boyfriend met my lifetime asshole quota.
“Man. What a dick.”
“Tell me about it. I can’t believe he’s our new Director. It was so all of a sudd—”
“Roll call!” Regina, the salon manager, shouts from the main floor.
Claire and I step onto the salon floor and line up with the rest of the staff. We’re surrounded by a sea of empty, colorful chairs and lit vanities waiting to house children who dream of being dressed up as princesses and princes during their time in Dreamland.