Falling for My Dirty Uncle

“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.