“I’m sorry, I…” an inaudible woman’s voice echoes behind the yelling, followed by loud sobs.
Shit, is that Mira?
I follow the sound, weaving my way through the office then thrusting open the door. Inside, I find Mira and the asshole I so gratefully get to call my brother, Carl. I knew it was that fucker; you can’t mistake that weaselly voice.
Both of them swirl around quickly when they see me, their eyes wide with shock. I’m probably not making this situation any better, but there’s no way I’m going to stand back and let Mira get grilled by this pompous dick.
“You!” Carl storms over to me. “Why, if it isn’t the man of the hour. And you’re just in time, too. We were just talking about you.”
“Oh, you were talking about how charming and handsome I am?” I love getting under his skin. “How thoughtful of you.”
Carl isn’t amused. He snatches Mira’s dress out of my hand and crumbles it in his fist.
“So, it is true!” Carl throws the dress against the wall.
He’s being completely overdramatic.
“I fucking knew it!” He then points furiously at Mira. “You lying little bitch!”
“Carl, calm down…” I put my palms up and wedge myself between Carl and Mira, hoping to redirect his attention my way. “Is that any way to talk to your step-daughter?”
Carl looks at me as if he wants to laugh. “Who gives a shit about the family? You two clearly don’t.”
He stalks behind me, peering out into the drab office where all the co-workers watch us like we’re some goddamn Shakespeare play.
“Christ, does everyone need to know our business?” Carl slams the door and pulls a folded-up article out of his pocket. “Did you see this, hmm?”
He waves the article in my face, and I snap it out of his hands.
I open the paper and read the headline. Fucking Lis Langley again. Is this what people call journalism these days?
“You let photographers catch your step-niece leaving your house?” Carl’s voice is loud and i
rate. He storms around the office like someone’s angry dad who just caught his kid fucking.
“Do you know how big of a fucking scandal this will be once people find out?”
“They won’t.” I shrug as I fold up the article and place it in my pocket.
I look over at Mira’s who’s wiping her tears with her low-cut shirt. I hate to see her like this, but she still looks fucking amazing. She looks up at me and grins automatically but freezes once Carl looks back at her.
“And what makes you so fucking certain of that, Mr. Hotshot?” Carl places his hands on his hips, looking at me like some angry, bespectacled rooster. It’s quite a sight, and I try not to laugh at how ridiculous he looks.
“The Capitalist Chronicle already knows you left with a fucking blonde at the party, and now another mysterious blonde is leaving your house the next morning? It doesn’t take a complete idiot to figure out this fucked-up mystery.”
I already know what he’s saying is true. I realized that when I walked away from her the second time, but I won’t get him the satisfaction in knowing he’s right. Fuck that.
“It’s not what you think.” Mira approaches Carl with her hands clasped. “I went over to Owen’s place because I was too drunk to take myself home. Nothing happened, I swear! The reason Owen covered me with his jacket when I left his place is because we both knew people would jump to conclusions.”
“Like you’re doing right now, Carl,” I chime in, wanting to help her.
Carl buries his face in his hands. This guy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm.
“You expect me to believe that?” Carl’s face is beet red. “You two were fucking around at the reception. You expect me to believe you two then went to his place just to sleep? You must think I’m a complete moron!”
I snort with laughter. He isn’t lying. But as Carl and Mira snap their heads towards me, I quickly try to cover it up with a cough.
“Sorry, allergies,” I say as I touch my throat. “An investor of yours should really consider updating the air ventilation in here.” I glare at Carl.