by Alexis Angel
“Watch it, girl,” Owen growls, raising his voice in warning, enough that I flinch away slightly.
I can see why he makes such an intimidating figure in the business world, with a voice like that.
But then, he softens again.
“Stop trying to test me. Don’t do this to me. Don’t ruin what we’ve already experienced together. Please, just…calm down and think seriously for a minute.”
“As if I can take that seriously, when you’re practically wincing from the strain your cock is putting on your pants right now,” I remark, groping his crotch to emphasize the point.
Owen groans at the touch. I smile in a somewhat satisfied manner.
I slide my body against his, running my hand up from his pants over his chest and into his dark, slightly peppered hair. I bring my lips within millimeters of his, keeping them tantalizingly close.
All he has to do is lean forward slightly, and we can continue.
“Owen. Just give in. Just for now. Please. Do I really have to beg you?”
He looks conflicted. Good. I can work with conflicted.
“Come on, Owen. We could pop the lock off that door to the basement if you want a little more privacy. Or maybe we should go up to the roof and you can let the whole city hear me scream…”
Owen breathes in deeply and I know I almost have him.
“Or maybe, I should be appealing to your other brain…”
I kneel down, mouthing the fabric over his cock with my lips, gently sucking and licking it with my tongue.
Owen allows it to happen for a moment or two. I hear his breathing hitch, and I think that I must have gotten through to him for sure, but then, he runs a hand through my hair and yanks me back.
I pout up at him, incredibly disappointed.
“Are you really going to leave me this way, Owen? With just a little taste of what it would be like to be fucked by you? After all of this foreplay, this…war of words and suggestive looks we’ve had going on since the wedding, you’re really going to pull away?”
“Mira, you know I have to. You know I don’t want to, but I have to.”
He moves away from me and retrieves my dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor.
Well, what’s left of it anyway.
Returning to my side, he does his best at fitting the garment over my body, even as I let out a huff of disappointment.
He frowns.
“I can’t let you out like that.”
I raise an eyebrow suggestively.
“Then don’t let me out at all.”
Owen rolls his eyes, then repeats the motion far more slowly, as if he’s taking in his surroundings.
“And I can’t let you stay here, either,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
“Owen…?”
Hurriedly, as if in the spur of the moment, he removes his suit jacket and throws it over my shoulder, giving me a look that highly suggests ‘put that on and cover yourself up’, so I regretfully comply. The jacket smells like him. It’s wonderful.
I wonder if I can get away with keeping it to myself and bringing it back out later when I’m alone…
“Mira, stop daydreaming and follow me,” Owen instructs—he’s already halfway to the door. I stumble over slightly in my rush to follow him.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere a million fucking times better than this dump. Somewhere without fucking deadbolts and chains across all the doors. Your company is going public—you’re going public—so you need an office space befitting such an occasion.”
I frown, confused.
“But this is the office Carl is giving the company.”
“Fuck him. He’s an ass. You deserve better.”
“So, whose offices are you taking me to?”
There’s a ridiculously sexy glint to Owen’s eyes as he grins.
“Mine.”
“Yours? But surely you have tons of people—”
Owen waves a hand at me.
“Not my main operations office, of course. You need your own space. It just so happens that I have some prime real estate that’s just been turned over. It’ll be perfect for you.”
I stare at him, astounded.
“You’d do that, for me?”
“I’d do anything for you, Mira,” Owen responds, and I know he’s being sincere.
Except it’s not quite true.
He’d do anything but fuck me.
But I figure I can work on that, as Owen leads me into his car and away from the shabby, run-down building that my step-father clearly thought was all I deserved.
I suppose having Owen as a step-uncle really could be rather beneficial, after all.
I watch his adept, dexterous fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what they’d feel like all over my naked body, rubbing my clit, sliding their way inside me…like they were earlier.
I have never been so glad to not be related to someone in all my life.
Chapter 21
Owen
Even busy concentrating on the road, I still can’t get over the incessant urge to simply stop the car, ruin Mira’s dress further, and fuck her so hard that people on the streets will hear her come.
I think she knows it, too.
She keeps throwing flirtatious, suggestive glances my way, and she’s spent way too much of the drive over to her new office watching my fingers on the steering wheel.
It doesn’t take a genius to work out what she’s thinking about.
“Mira, can you button up my jacket, please?”
Mira looks down at herself. She did put my suit jacket on, as requested, but made absolutely no attempt to button it up to hide the destruction I rained down on her dress.
She smiles.
“Is my body distracting you, Owen?” she asks mischievously.
I swear to god, why does this woman have to be my niece, of all things?
“You know it’s distracting me. I’d rather not have an accident on the road, funnily enough.”
Mira throws me a very pointed look.
“So, pull over. I don’t mind a few onlookers,” she replies, glancing out the window at the scarce pedestrians on the street.
I sigh, shaking my head.
Mira Wilder will be the death of me, be that in the form of a tragic car accident or otherwise. It’s with blessed relief that I finally pull into my private space in the parking lot of Mira’s new offices.
When I turn the engine off, I rest my head against the steering wheel.
“Don’t even try it, Mira,” I say, not having to look at her to know that she’s about to make another irresistible move on me.
She pouts. “Fine. I’ll behave. For now.”
Mira follows those words up with a wicked grin that makes me wonder how long ‘for now’ is going to last.
Pulling together all of my self-control, I get out of my car and walk around to the passenger side, opening the door to let Mira out.
“Ever the gentleman when it suits you, Owen.”
I scoff.
“I’m always a gentleman. But even gentlemen have their limits, and you know just how to push them.”
“You can always push back if you want,” Mira laughs as I let her into the building.
We take the elevator up to her new offices in silence, but the air is fraught with tension.
All it would take is a look of permission from me, and Mira would slide her body against mine. I could stop the elevator and fuck her to my heart’s content.
There’s a twitch of longing from my cock, so I try desperately to think about something else. To my right, Mira laughs softly, as if she knows precisely what’s going on inside my head.
It’s the longest elevator ride I’ve ever experienced. Excruciatingly, inexorably long. It’s all I can do not to let out an audible sigh of relief when the elevator doors ping open, and I follow Mira out onto the floor of her shiny new offices.
Mira is stunned silent almost immediately, all thoughts of bangin
g in the elevator momentarily forgotten.
“Owen, I can’t…this is too much.”
I rest a hand on her shoulder and smile. “It’s the very least you deserve.”
To be fair, the offices are fucking gorgeous, all glass-fronted with a river view, making full use of the afternoon sun when it hits the windows. The place is high-ceilinged, littered with skylights, which give off a natural, rather than artificial, glow.
The desks are all modern and curved, with state-of-the-art computers, and the sofas and chairs are all designer. There’s plant life everywhere, bringing in splashes of color in all corners of the room, and the kitchen is fully outfitted to accommodate even the most bizarre of lunch requests.
Of course, Mira heads straight for the floor-to-ceiling windows to gawk at the view. With the sunlight in her hair, her eyes, and shining on her lips, the thoughts from the elevator return in a flash, hitting me like a ton of bricks.
Mira stares at me.
“Are you sure, Owen? This place is…it’s so fucking gorgeous. It’s the prettiest office I’ve ever seen.”
I give her a smile. “Of course, I’m sure—”
But my words are interrupted as Mira flings her arms around my neck and kisses me.
I reciprocate—for a second—before pulling back. It fucking kills me to do it, too. My body certainly doesn’t fucking want to.
But I do it. Because I have to.
Then I look at her seriously. “Mira, in exchange for these offices—in exchange for a proper, healthy start to your company—you have to stop throwing yourself at me. For both of our sakes. Please. What happened earlier can never happen again.”
Mira holds my gaze for a long time. I can see a swath of conflicting emotions cross her face until, eventually, she grows serious.
She stares at the floor, downcast.
“I know. I understand. I understood before, but I just…I wish things didn’t have to be like this.”
“You know I feel the same,” I reply, taking her in my arms and embracing her one final time. “But make me proud, okay? Grow your business and become a fucking household name, Mira Wilder. I know you can do it.”
I let her go, and Mira gives me a beautiful smile, her eyes overly bright.
“You have no idea how much these offices mean to me, Owen. Thank you, truly.”
There’s a pause, and then I glance at my watch, feigning ignorance of the time.
“I have to get going, Mira. I’ll leave you here to get things set up. And I suggest—” I look at her dress, my suit jacket still left agonizingly unbuttoned over it “—that you call someone over to bring you new clothes.”
Mira laughs and nods. “I will. Goodbye, Owen.”
“Goodbye, Mira.”
I smash my hand against the mirrored wall of the elevator as soon as I’ve descended far enough from Mira to be sure she can’t hear me.
Why the hell can’t I have her?
It shouldn’t even matter that Mira is my new step-niece. We aren’t related by blood. The scandal would have been minimal if not for my fucking brother, Carl.
Just thinking about Carl causes me to mull over something that’s been bothering me all day.
Why did he give Mira those shitty offices in the first place? She’s his step-daughter, and he’s investing in her company. Surely, it’s in his best interests to give her the best start he possibly can?
And what the fuck was with all the locked doors? The deadbolts and the chains across the emergency exits? The place looked like a fucking fire hazard—not the offices of a lingerie company.
There’s something I’m missing—some vital piece of information that will shed light on the whole situation. And Mira deserves to know what’s going on.
I get in my car, resolved to uncover what it is that my brother is planning for her.
Even if it turns out he’s simply a worthless sack of shit that can’t be bothered with finding Mira good offices, looking into the matter will, at the very least, distract me.
From Mira.
From her shredded dress.
From the way she looked at me in the elevator.
From the way my suit jacket dwarfed her frame.
As I drive away from Mira and her new office, I know one thing for certain: I don’t think I’ll be able to get her off my mind for the rest of my life.
Chapter 22
Mira
I feel like I’ve been staring out at the view from my new office for hours, though I know it’s only really been more like minutes.
I don’t know what to do.
I want to cry. So badly, I want to cry.
How could I be left so heartbroken over a man I barely know?
And yet here I am, heartbroken, nonetheless.
I lie and tell myself that it’s the sunlight that’s stinging my eyes, rather than the threat of tears.
Choking back a sob, I turn away from the window and move over to a glass wall-enclosed office clearly meant for the head of the office space.
Me.
CEO of Wilder Lingerie.
I have to remember that. It’s been my dream for years. And Owen fully supports it.
But that just makes it all the more painful that I can’t have him.
We suit each other so much. And the sexual tension…
Well. You could cut it with the wrong end of a knife.
I prepare myself for the decision I have to make.
If I have to give up my feelings and attraction to Owen Westbrook, then you can be damn sure I’ll be putting my all into my company.
And when I’m a well-established name in my own right—when I have my own money and can break away from Carl—I’ll aim for Owen again.
Well, there’s no harm in trying, right? Ambition is good for you.
Hunkering down in front of my new desk and even newer computer, I work out a game plan for organizing the office space into the perfect working environment that I truly need it to be.
I call a few people, arranging for supplies, food and clothes to be sent to the new office, then set about cleaning the kitchen while I wait.
Not that it really needs cleaning. I just need something to do to keep my mind off of Owen.
Thankfully, new clothes arrive first. Shirking off my ruined dress and placing Owen’s suit jacket gently over the back of my desk chair, I throw on a camisole top and a pair of form-fitting leggings—the kind of clothes that won’t get in my way while I get down to some hard work.
I look at Owen’s jacket. I hope he doesn’t ask for it back.
At the very least, I want to keep hold of something.
My food delivery arrives: gourmet pizza and a root-beer float, because that’s what a broken heart needs, right?
I take it over to one of the beautiful red sofas with a view over the river.
I gorge on the food, eating my feelings à la Bridget Jones. Admittedly, it makes me feel a little better—though some wine definitely wouldn’t go amiss, either.
Part of me wonders if Owen thinks I’m too young for him. Maybe he wants someone more mature.
Another part of me thinks that it just turns him on even more—the idea that he can have any woman he wants, even if she’s barely out of grad school.
I shake my head slightly at the idea, then pick myself up off the sofa.
“Time to get to work, Miss Wilder,” I say in lieu of a pep talk.
You can do this. You’ve gotten this far already.
When my office supplies arrive, I spend hours rearranging the office, unpacking, shelving, organizing and filing.
It’s menial, boring work—and exactly what I need.
By the time I’m done, the sun has long since set.
I collapse into my desk chair, swiveling back and forth as I eat the remains of my cold pizza—I don’t have the energy to head over to the kitchen and reheat it.
I successfully staved off all thoughts of Owen for the day.
But now they’re back, as if they never left.
<
br /> I squeeze my hands between my thighs, frustrated beyond belief.
“It’s not fair,” I complain aloud, knowing I sound entirely like a petulant child.
I look at my computer. A few new emails have shown up in my inbox while I was organizing the office, so I glance through them.
A feel a frown deepening on my face as I ingest the contents of one of the emails properly.
It’s from Carl; it causes me to bring up all of our previous correspondence.
Even as I do this, I know I’m far too exhausted to properly concentrate, but something in his email has my curiosity piqued—and not in a good way.
It’s not anything serious, not at first. Just the way Carl has worded a sentence here, a sentence there…in all of his emails.
I search through my physical files for the contract I signed with him.
Surely not, I think. I had a lawyer comb through the entire thing, after all.
But there it is: one damning line in my contract that allows the company’s board of directors to dissolve Wilder Lingerie and sell off all company assets without my permission…if I’m deemed unfit to run the company, at any rate.
Which will never happen. But still.
It’s fucking weird.
I feel a headache coming on. Why did my lawyer allow this in the contract? Why did she let me sign it, knowing this?
I search for my lawyer online. It takes so much digging, way more than could have been expected of me to do when I vetted her in the first place—but eventually, I discover that she actually works for one of Carl’s subsidiaries.
She was working in his best interests this whole time.
Fuck.
“But what does it mean?!” I exclaim, furious at my lack of understanding.
I need coffee. Or sleep. Probably sleep.
I wish Owen was here to help me work things out.
My new ‘doting’ step-father clearly has plans for my company that I’m not privy to. If I were to bring it up with him, what would happen? Would he simply dissolve my company?
And is that why that clause exists in my contract in the first place—to stop me from going against his wishes, lest I lose everything I’ve worked so hard to build?
There’s a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.