“What is it, Mira?” He seems genuinely concerned, but it’s a small consolation. At least I’m right; what Owen feels about me is real.
“It’s Lis Langley…she’s found out about us. Or, at least, she thinks she has.”
I dissolve into unintelligible tears as Owen begins to read through the article for himself. His hands are shaking, and I can see the anger setting in his jaw.
Does he regret being with me now?
Oh, God, what have I done?
THE CAPITALIST CHRONICLE
Oh, Baby, Say Uncle: Bad boy billionaire takes nepotism to a whole new level
By Lis Langley
New York—That’s right, dear readers. It seems that Owen Westbrook has decided to push the envelope once again. But this time, it’s a matter of avuncular love and affection.
You guessed it?
?the mystery woman he just can’t seem to get enough of is none other than his step-niece, Mira Wilder, daughter/step-daughter of Carol Westbrook née Wilder and Carl Westbrook. It seems the Wilders and the Westbrooks really like to keep it all in the family, if you know what I mean.
Let that sink in a moment. It’s okay, I’ll wait.
But folks, the fun doesn’t stop there. Hold on to your hats and get ready to clutch those pearls, because yours truly did a bit of digging, and what I unearthed will have you reaching for the smelling salts.
According to a source close to the couple, it seems that the pair likes a little fetish in their foreplay. So, when pseudo-incest isn’t enough, the duo enjoys hitting up underground sex dungeons where they can smack and subdue to their hearts content.
There are even whispers that sexual hypnotism may have even been involved. I wonder if they offer a friend and family discount?
Be careful, Mr. Grey; it seems Mr. Westbrook will give you a run for your money.
However, with all this dirt, I’m left with quite a few questions. Mainly, does this mean Miss Wilder will be expanding her lingerie line to kinky couture? How are Mr. Westbrook’s flogging skills? Chains or cuffs?
And, most importantly, does he ask her to call him Daddy…or Uncle?
So, please, Mr. Westbrook and Miss Wilder, if you’d like to come clean, let me know; we here at the Capitalist Chronicle are ready to be your sounding board. The truth may even set you fifty shades freed. After all, what’s a little sex amongst step-family?
Chapter 31
Owen
When I look up from Lis Langley’s latest bullshit article, there’s a rainstorm of tears brewing in Mira’s gorgeous blue eyes.
“Fuck this,” I growl, tossing my phone on the bed and finding my suit pants.
I pull them on quickly, but even as I zip them up over my thick, twelve-inch cock, my hands are shaking with rage.
I need to fucking hit something. Hard. Playboy billionaire I might be, but these hands weren’t made for crunching numbers—they were made for making fists.
If I’m going to be crunching anything right now, it should be the skull of whoever the fuck had the audacity to leak that sensationalist garbage to the Chronicle.
There are few things in this world that would ever make me truly lose my fucking temper, but among them, apparently, is anything that makes pretty little Mira Wilder cry.
“Owen…I’m so sorry,” I hear Mira whimper from the bed.
She’s got her lower lip pushed out ever so slightly—Mira Wilder could start a fucking war with that pout of hers. But it’s trembling in a way that tells me this isn’t just about the article or her reputation.
No. Mira might give a shit about what this means for her company and all those employees, but this isn’t about stock prices and boards of directors.