Chapter 30

Mira

Everything is perfect.

Sunlight falls through the curtains, slowly rousing me from sleep.

Did last night really happen? Or did I just dream it?

I feel Owen shift, and I can hear his heart beating under my ears, so, no, I wasn’t dreaming. I’m not dreaming.

This is all real.

I fucked Owen Westbrook.

But it’s more than that. As hot as Owen is—and he’s super fucking hot—he could so easily be using me for my body.

But I don’t think that’s the case.

He cares about me. I’m not just some bridesmaid sitting on the wedding cake that he’s going to send away once he’s finished with me.

I’m the girl he took home with him, and now I’m the girl who gets to wake up beside him.

He cares about me.

In his sleep, Owen pulls me closer to him. Pressing my body against him—not in a sexual way, but in a way that makes me feel safe. Nothing can touch me while I’m in Owen’s arms. Nothing and no one.

He wouldn’t let them.

At first, what I felt for Owen was primal—I wanted to explore a previously hidden side of me that his twelve-inch dick had managed to bring out. I wanted to use his body and for him to use me.

And he did that. My pussy is already soaked again from the memories of last night—and, for a second, I’m tempted to wake Owen up with a little bit of morning head…but I decide against it.

My feelings for Owen aren’t just primal anymore. I know that his aren’t, either—they can’t be; not from the way he collected me from my office or took care of me when I was too tired to be coherent.

For the first time in my life, I feel safe with a man. Finally, someone who’s not going to let me down or walk away. I want to stay in this moment forever.

It only makes sense that it could never last.

My phone begins to ring. I can hear it vibrating from inside my purse in the other room.

Internally, I groan…but my company is going public today. I can’t be ignoring calls on one of the most important days of my life.

Carefully, I slip out of Owen’s arms, leaving him asleep in the bed looking like a Renaissance angel, with tousled hair and the sheets just gently revealing those hard, rippled abs.

The morning air hits my body as I climb out of bed. The sudden chill makes my nipples perk up. I almost forgot that I’m naked—but I guess it wasn’t as though Owen had a chance to pack pajamas when he swept me away from my office last night.

I pull on a robe and find my phone in my purse.

I see the name on the caller ID, and my stomach drops.

Oh, shit.

It’s Mom.

I take a deep breath and lift the phone to my ear.

“Hi, Mom—”

“I can’t believe you, Mira.”

The sudden ice and steel in her tone catches me off-guard, and for a minute, I feel like I’ve been slapped across the face.

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“Whips and chains? Sexual hypnotism!” she screeches into the phone, and I take a few steps backwards. The couch brushes against the back of my legs, and I collapse backwards into it.

“Mom, seriously, what the fuck? What’re you talking about? I haven’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, Mira! Carl warned me that nasty half-brother of his was sniffing around you, but I thought you at least had the good sense not to let him take whatever he wanted without so much as a thought about the consequences!”

“I’m not lying! I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom. What’s sexual hypnotism? You’re not making any sense.”

“You know what it is, Mira. My poor baby girl, publicly shamed like this…”

I run my hand through my hair as I stare blankly across the room. How could my mom know that I slept with Owen? It only happened a few hours ago, and we’ve been so careful to not let nobody see us. And what’s she saying about BDSM?

“Oh, cat got your tongue, has it?” Mom’s voice echoes through the phone, cutting through my stunned silence. “Or is Owen’s dick just keeping your mouth too busy to talk to me?”

White-hot rage flashes in my chest.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

“Or what? Or what, Mira? I’m your mother. I can speak to you however I please.”

“If you were a good mother, you wouldn’t be so ready to join the opposition against me. I haven’t been frequenting any sex dungeons, Mom, especially not with… sexual hypnotism, or whatever the fuck you’re on about. Where are you even getting this information?”

“You mean, where have I—and the whole world—found out the truth? Well, you should be reading the Chronicle. Lis Langley has managed to reveal everything about the two of you.”

“There’s nothing to reveal!” I protest, but I can feel my voice growing weaker. Mom isn’t going to believe me—and neither is the rest of the world.

I pull my legs up to my chest and grasp at the blanket covering the back of the sofa that I’m sitting on. I cover myself with it, suddenly chilled.

“I just can’t believe that you’d do this, Mira. Not just to Carl and me—and he’s furious, by the way—but I can’t believe you’d do this to yourself. I can’t believe you’d cheapen yourself to the point of sleeping with Owen Westbrook—it’s not like you’ve joined an exclusive club.”

I feel the back of my eyes begin to sting and a lump begin to form in my throat. I don’t want mom to know that I’m crying, but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to hide it.

“And your company,” she continues, either oblivious or ignoring how her words cut like a knife. “I can’t believe you’d do this to your company. On the day that you go public, no less. Mira, I really am astounded at you.”

“My company has nothing to do with this,” I protest. “And even if I had been fucking strange billionaires in random sex dungeons, that’s my business—not anyone else’s.”

“Well, you can lie all you want. The whole world knows the truth now, and as a key investor, Carl and the board have decided that power is going to be taken from you and placed solely in the hands of the board.”

Despite myself, I let out a strangled gasp, and I feel tears pricking at my eyelids.

“They can’t do that,” I say softly. Even though I know they can.

“If you’re going to act like a child, then you’ll be treated like one. Carl and your investors have put too much money into your little lingerie project to see this scandal ruin it.”

I open my mouth to speak, but as always, Mom doesn’t let me continue.

“I hope you’re happy, Mira.” I shrink further beneath the blanket, trying to hide from the ice in her voice. “I hope fucking Owen has been worth it, because after this, I doubt anyone on the East Coast would be willing to touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

Then she hangs up. I listen to the silence for a couple of seconds until the phone slips out of my numb fingers and falls into the couch cushions.

I fucked up.

I fucked up so bad.

This is all my fault.

I wrap the blankets tighter around myself and stand on shaky legs. For a moment, I think I might fall again, but I hold onto the arm of the sofa, and I move myself around the room—pushing through the strange numbness that’s encasing my entire body.

I look for my tablet, pulling it from my purse, and I quickly open the Chronicle. Lis Langley’s latest article—the article about us—is on the front page and…trending.

Reading through it, everything my mom said begins to make sense. I can’t hold back the tears any longer, and my sniffles and soft sobs wake Owen in the other room.

“Mira?” he calls from the bedroom, and I flinch away from it for a moment.

If I wasn’t naked and if the paparazzi wouldn’t think I was doing the walk of shame, I’d be almost tempted to run from the hotel right now. To try and do damage control before this article ruins my life any further.

“Owen…” I begin.

I try, and fail, to hide the tears in my voice as I trudge back into the bedroom and hand him the tablet so that he can read the article.

“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?