Page 12 of In Love and Revenge

Her eyes glitter as she casually loops the wayward strap back up over her smooth shoulder whilst talking about ways to dress the outfit up or down. It pulls the fabric higher over one breast, and the extra few millimetres of curved skin that were exposed disappear.

I bite my lower lip, concealing an unwelcome groan of disappointment.

She’s a problem. A huge fucking problem.

She leans forward to pick up a pair of heels to show to the camera. My pen goes flying as I scrabble to grab my phone and wind the video back.

I hit ‘play’, and watch again as she leans down, showing the briefest flash of cleavage from her perky little tits.

My hand is on my dick before I can control it, and I squeeze, sucking in a breath as she straightens and starts wittering on about heel heights.

‘The fuck am I doing?’ I drop my throbbing dick like it’s a hot poker and pause the video.

Aurora’s face freezes on the screen in a wide smile like she’s taunting me. I scroll down, not trusting myself to watch any more. Instead, I head to the comments section.

You look amazing!

I want that dress! I’m saving up. Two more pay days to go.

Simply beautiful.

Looking for a boyfriend?

The last one makes me grit my teeth. But it’s not the one that should bother me the most. Theyallshould. Every single one is admiring her,justifying herprancing around in designer outfit after designer outfit like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Bet her followers don’t know she paid for all those frilly little dresses that cup those pert tits of hers with money that doesn’t belong to her.

I wonder how much of my two hundred and forty million Daddy dearest spent on his precious daughter’s love of all things designer.

Enough that I own the entire dressing room she’s filming in, and every item of clothing in it.

I even own the little panties she’s wearing beneath that dress.Maybe I should insist on taking them back.

‘Dammit,’ I hiss, tossing my phone on to my desk and raking my fingers through my hair.

Aurora Thorne.

Daughter of George Thorne, a man who, when he stole funds from the company he worked for – a companymyinsurance firm invests heavily with – didn’t just steal from them, he stole fromme.

It wasn’t only the two hundred and forty million I lost.

It’s the fact I almost lost it all.

George Thorne nearly cost me Fairfax Guardian.

The whole firm could have crumbled if I hadn’t dipped into my own pocket to save us.

I almost lost it once, years ago, when I first took over from my father. The fact it almost happened again is an act that simply cannot go unpunished. The authorities might have been unable to recover what I lost, but George Thorne will return it to me, one way or another. A man clever enough to gain the trust of a huge firm and be granted access to that amount of money in the first place is a man clever enough to hide his assets during a criminal investigation.

My eyes flick to my phone.

His daughter obviously didn’t inherit his brains. If she did, she wouldn’t be flaunting her brand-new designer wardrobe online, even if she does use a fake name for her online persona.

I pick my phone up again and can’t resist hitting ‘play’ once more.

My dick jolts back to attention immediately, but I ignore it.

She tucks a strand of blond hair behind one ear before smoothing the front of the lemon dress down with a loving caress.