by Alexis Angel
Is that why Carl gave me the terrible offices with locked doors and no emergency exits—because I wouldn’t be able to complain?
But why invest in my company in the first place if he didn’t want it to be successful? I just don’t understand.
It’s not as if Carl chose to invest in my company after he saw me with his brother, so the reason behind that damning clause in my contract has jack squat to do with Owen.
I lay my head on my desk and sigh.
Today has taken a lot out of me.
And I don’t understand a damn thing.
But one thing’s for sure—I need to let Owen know what’s going on.
He can help me.
I’m sure of it.
Chapter 23
Owen
Today is one of those days where I can’t wait to get the fuck out of my office and get home.
Today has been meeting after meeting, after meeting, after consult, after meeting. You get the idea.
Then, to top it off, I had to spend my entire evening floating in between various charity events that the company has been a part of, further stretching my day out.
Now, finally, I’m sitting in the back of my limousine sipping whiskey.
I stare out the window watching the city lights and the buildings whiz by as we drive, trying to clear my head. Although I’m completely exhausted and usually pretty good at winding down after a long day, I can’t seem to get one thing off my mind.
Mira.
Obviously I know that I shouldn’t be thinking about her, especially after what we’ve decided, but I just can’t get her out of my head.
I hate the way we left things and although I know it’s for the best, it certainly doesn’t make the situation any easier—for either of us, I’m sure.
I sigh and set down my glass, lowering the window a bit to let some air in and close my eyes, letting the cool night air sweep over my face. It certainly perks me up a bit, but does nothing to still the thoughts creeping through my mind, and I decide that enough is enough.
Checking on her quickly won’t hurt anything, right? I’m not breaking any rules by doing that. I’m just making sure she’s okay.
Once I know she is, I’ll be on my way. No harm done.
I lean forward in my seat and knock on the tinted glass barrier, and I hear the familiar beep of the backseat speaker before the driver’s voice rings through it.
“Yes, Mr. Westbrook? Are we making an additional stop before I take you home?”
I press and hold the button next to it and speak, my voice tired.
“Yes, actually,” I say, “I’ll need you to bring me by Miss Wilder’s penthouse, please.”
I release the button and sit back in my seat, and no sooner does my back hit the leather, the speaker beeps again.
“Of course, Mr. Westbrook.”
I feel the car slow down and make a turn—changing our route to get to her penthouse—and I smile.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Mira, at least a little bit. Just because we agreed that we can’t take things between us any further doesn’t mean that we have to stop speaking or communicating entirely. I’m simply checking in on her, making sure she’s all right and settling in to her new office.
It’s what family would do…ugh.
That’s what I’m going to keep telling myself, anyway.
After a few moments, I feel the car slow down and come to a stop, and the beep comes through the speaker again.
“Mr. Westbrook. We’ve arrived at Miss Wilder’s penthouse, sir.”
I press my finger down onto the switch for the passenger side window and look outside, my gaze sliding up the building to where Mira’s penthouse is.
I’m confused when I look up to see the place completely dark.
I wonder what she’s doing. Maybe she’s already asleep?
I frown just as my door opens, my limo driver standing there, ushering me out.
“Thank you,” I mutter under my breath. “Wait just a moment, please.”
He nods in acknowledgement, and I step outside, walking up the walkway to her door, and the doorman greets me with a smile.
“Evening, sir,” he chimes, “Can I help you?”
“Yes, in fact,” I say sincerely. “Can you tell me if Mira—if Miss Wilder is home?”
He shakes his head firmly, giving me an apologetic smile.
“I’m afraid she’s not home, sir.”
“Oh. Well, alright then. Thank you, and goodnight.”
I try to brush it off, but I feel a twinge of anxiety start to build in my chest.
He nods, and I turn around, heading back towards the limo where the driver meets me at the side of the car. He opens the door for me, and I step in, seating myself back against the leather.
As we pull away from the curb and the driver heads back towards home, my mind starts to wander again.
Why on earth hasn’t she gone home yet?
I glance down at my watch, and concern consumes me when I realize the time. Not that it’s overly late, but for her to not even come home since this morning? That’s certainly unusual and maybe even a little alarming.
Given everything that’s been going on and how we left things earlier, my mind starts to race with all sorts of awful scenarios.
Something could have easily happened to her on her way home from her office—it was after all, a new route for her—and we all know how that can upset things.
What if she got mugged? She’s a tiny little thing, and wouldn’t be able to fend off an attacker very well.
Oh, come on. She may be young and naïve, but she’s not a complete idiot. Besides, it’s not like she’d be traveling alone down any dark alleyways.
Besides the obvious fact that she’s a young, attractive—scratch that, very attractive—woman in a big city, she’s got an asshole for a father.
Do I really think he would hurt her somehow?
Definitely. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always been a dick, and he’s never really warmed up to Mira’s success with her business—even though he disgustingly tried to.
I mull it all over for a few minutes before shaking my head with a scoff, then I push the intercom button.
“Yes, Mr. Westbrook?”
“Change of plans,” I say gruffly. “Take me to Mira’s new office.”
“Right away.”
Once again, the car turns around, and we head back through town towards Mira’s office, my heart starting to thud in my chest.
I’m probably overreacting a bit, but who the fuck cares. I can do what I want, and right now I want to check in on her. Working this late isn’t good and will lead to burnout for anyone, let alone someone as new to this as her.
For all I know, we’ll get there and she’ll be fine. She’ll scold me for being possessive and shoo me away. If anything, that will make things easier—for both of us.
But maybe I should just turn around. She’s probably fine.
But what if I don’t check in on her and I could have prevented something from happening to her? I’d feel like shit, so I need to be sure she’s okay.
If I end up looking like the weird, crazy uncle because of it, then so be it. At least I’ll know she’s okay.
Chapter 24
Mira
I’m roused from sleep by the warm feeling of strong arms wrapping themselves around me, pulling at my shoulders.
Confusion settles in.
Why am I waking up somewhere else other than my bedroom?
Soft golden lights shine above me. There’s a kick-ass view of the city to my left, framed by a large picture window. There are decorative paintings on the walls and large tropical plants all surround me.
But nothing compares to the feel of those arms wrapped around my body, rousing me from my slumber and into the safety of their embrace.
Am I dreaming?
But then I feel the hard wooden desk beneath my forearms, unforgiving and cold, and realize exactly wher
e I am—my office.
I don’t know what time it is, and when I shoot a quick glance to the window, it’s pitch black outside. I must have been out for a while.
Shit. I fell asleep at my damn desk. I wonder how many people saw me here, sleeping on the job.
Way to make a good impression, Mira.
I feel firm hands grip my shoulders, and I’m reminded how I was woken up. I turn my head and look up at who—or what—has chosen to interrupt my hard-won beauty sleep.
Much to my surprise I see Owen, his face wracked with worry and concern. He slides his arms under mine, beckoning me to sit up.
Still drowsy, I follow his lead and sit up. I feel him slip his arm behind me and move to pick me up.
“Ugh, Owen,” I murmur sleepily, “what are you doing here? And why are you picking me up?”
He shakes his head and smiles, blinking slowly as he sighs.
“Shh, Mira. Just relax. You’ve been working too hard—you fell asleep at your desk. I’m just getting you out of here.”
I sigh, trying to wrap my head around the situation unfolding.
So is this how we play the ‘not taking things further’ game, is it?
He shows up at my office like a white knight to sweep me off my feet—literally—and take me away from the stresses of the work day?
No, I don’t think so.
“Owen,” I protest, my voice still soft and breathy from my impromptu nap. “I don’t need you to—”
I’m cut off by a firm finger to my lips as he shushes me and scoops me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest.
I gasp as I’m lifted from my seat into his grasp, and he chuckles softly when I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, afraid of falling.
“Shh, Mira,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”
He swoops my purse up off my desk and strolls out of my office with me in his arms, ignoring my hushed protests.
“I don’t need you to take care of me, you know,” I mumble against his chest, inhaling softly and smiling as the subtle smell of his cologne surrounds me.
He chuckles softly and shakes his head, pressing the button to the elevator.
“Says the girl who fell asleep working at her desk. You didn’t even wake up when I walked into your office. Anyone could have come in.”
I hear the ding of the elevator and Owen carries me inside as the door slides open, leaning forward to press the button for the main floor.
“You’re working yourself too hard, Mira,” he scolds softly, his chin brushing the top of my head. “You need to take care of yourself.”
His words make my chest tighten, and I sigh, embarrassment washing over me that I have to be told such a simple thing.
“I know,” I whisper. “I just want to do the best I can and give this my all. I need to make this work.”
“You’ll never make it work if you work yourself to exhaustion,” he chides, brushing my cheek. “Rest is important.”
I sigh and allow myself to relax into his touch, closing my eyes as I lean into his chest, resting my head against it.
There’s a moment of silence between us—neither of us really knowing what to say or how to say it—given the fact that this totally goes against what we agreed to.
How dare he? After what he pulled, he comes strutting in here and pulls a stunt like this? And then scolds me?
“So did you come here just to give me a spanking and make me feel bad?” I ask, turning my gaze upwards to meet his. “Or did you just want to rub this all in my face?”
I see his expression soften, and he frowns, brows furrowing together in what almost looks like hurt.
“I was worried about you, actually.”
His words hit me like a brick in the chest and I gasped softly, my lips forming an O in surprise.
“Oh,” I say. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. After everything, I mean.”
He says nothing and instead just smiles softly, sending a warm fuzzy feeling through my body. I’m not used to feeling cared for, and I have to admit…it’s kind of nice.
I could easily get used to this—the feeling of having someone. I know it’s not right being with Owen, but for now, I’m going to let myself enjoy it.
I curl myself into him further, snuggling my face into the soft linen of his shirt and sigh, closing my eyes again.
“Thank you,” I sigh, gently running my fingers along the hem of his shirt.
“Don’t mention it.”
I hear the ding of the elevator, and I startle slightly when he moves forward, so I grasp the collar of his shirt.
We make our way through the main floor, and between the swaying of his footsteps, the warmth of his body against mine, and the steady beating of his heart against my ear, I feel myself start to drift off.
Being in his arms feels good, however taboo it may actually be. The heat radiating off his strong body, the way he nearly swallows me up when he wraps me in his arms, and the concern he showed me when he woke me up is a wonderful combination.
As I continue to relax and drift in his arms, I realize something.
He makes me feel safe.
He halts to open the door, and the loss of movement startles me awake and I gasp, once again tightening my grip on his collar.
I don’t quite hear him laugh, but I can feel the soft rumble through his chest, and it sends a tingle through me, warming my thoughts and relaxing me even further.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he says, shaking his head.
I feel the cool night air hit my skin as we walk outside through the door of the office building, and I glance up just in time to see Owen’s limo waiting.
I know it’s not right, but right now I don’t care; I’m just happy to be in his arms.
Chapter 25
Owen
I carefully place Mira in the back of the limo, allowing her to stretch her legs across the back seat. Not wanting to be tempted by her any more than I already am, I take one of the side seats next to her and buckle myself in.
I watch her start to drift off again for a moment, gently stroking her hair and wondering what she’s dreaming about. She looks so peaceful there, lying motionless while passing street lamps send beams of light dancing across her face.
“Sir? Where to next?” The driver’s voice cuts in through the backseat speaker, interrupting my thoughts, but he’s speaking so softly that my pretty little passenger doesn’t even stir.
We can’t go back to my place. Lis Langley has been camped out there so long she probably has squatter’s rights by now. I once caught her fighting a raccoon for my trash bags.
I consider telling the driver to take us back to Mira’s place instead, but I can’t bring myself to do it. While I’m sure she’d like to sleep in her own bed at some point, I’m not quite ready to let her go.
She’s had a rough night. Someone has to take care of her.
In front of us, the light turns red. As we wait at the intersection, my eyes wander across the street to the Metropolitan Hideaway.
It’s one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. From the road, it looks like a private mansion. Hidden behind a row of sculpted green hedges, the stately art deco building stands ten stories high and has no signs to welcome visitors.
But I’m no ordinary visitor. I have a membership there, and I know this hotel will make room for us.
“Just drop us off right in front,” I tell my driver.
“At the Hideaway? You haven’t been here since—”
“I know,” I cut him off.
A few of my most notorious business deals have started at the hotel bar and ended in the penthouse suite, but that’s not what this is. Tonight, I’m just trying to make sure Mira is comfortable and safe.
We pull up to the circular driveway and stop in front of the entrance to the lobby.
“Mira, honey.” I gently shake her awake.
She opens her eyes and blinks, smiling at me sweetly. My heart skips a beat. Is this what it would be like to wa
ke up to her every morning?
“Where are we?” Mira stretches and looks out the window, where the lobby is only a few steps away. “Is this a hotel?”
“Not just any hotel,” I correct her. “It’s a members-only hotel where you can get some rest without anyone bothering you.” I give her a wink. “Except for me, of course.”
“I thought we weren’t taking things any further,” she protests, but when I drape my arm around her to hold her up, she nuzzles my shoulder and lets me lead her to the front desk.
The lobby is even more beautiful than I remember it. Marble columns line the foyer, where thick rugs cushion our path along the gleaming mahogany floors. Above our heads, crystal chandeliers dangle from ornate pressed-tin ceilings.
When we reach the front desk, we’re the only two people in the lobby. An old-fashioned brass bell sits on top of a spotless marble counter. I ring the bell for service, and the desk clerk appears from the back office.
He smiles as if he’s been expecting us. “Good evening. Welcome to the Metropolitan Hideaway. Are you checking in?”
“I don’t have a reservation,” I explain, pulling out my membership card, “but I was hoping you might have a room available. It’ll just be for tonight.”
“Of course, Mr. Westbrook,” the desk clerk replies after reading the name on my card. “Let me see what I can find for you.” He looks down for a moment, types something into his computer, and nods.
He looks at Mira, who is yawning next to me, about to fall asleep on my shoulder. “Is she your…girlfriend?”
“Ah…” I struggle to find the words. I didn’t think I’d have to explain the nature of my relationship with Mira to a hotel employee. And there’s no way in hell I’m telling him she’s my step-niece.
The desk clerk must be able to sense my apprehension. “I’m asking because the only room we have left available is the honeymoon suite,” he explains.
Mira wakes up and pats me on the cheek. “I’m his wife, actually,” she answers for us. “We’re newlyweds. Where is this honeymoon suite?”
“It’s on the tenth floor. We had a last-minute cancellation, so it’s already made up for you. You’ll need to take a private elevator to the top of the building. I can give you the key.”