Page 147 of The Owner's Temptation

Let’s see how far I can push you.

“These shoes are killing me,” I murmur lightly to the group, casting a look at the wide square planter behind me—an oversized decorative piece doubling as furniture. “If I could get up there without flashing the entire party, I would.”

One of them—tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired—takes the bait like I hoped.

“Need a lift, sweetheart?” he asks, already stepping closer.

“You’d be my hero,” I reply with a teasing smile.

He grins, sliding his hands around my ribs—his palms warm through the fabric of my dress—and lifts me easily onto the ledge. I let my legs cross slowly, smoothing my skirt down just enough to remain elegant while still playing the part.

I rest my hand on his shoulder a moment longer than necessary. Letting it linger.

“Oh, so strong,” I say with a small, playful squeeze of his bicep. It’s ridiculous, transparent, but exactly what they want to hear.

“Fresh champagne, darlin’,” another one says, snagging a flute from a passing tray and offering it to me with a wink.

I lower my lashes, feigning bashfulness. “You boys better stop spoiling me. I may want more.”

They’re practically fawning now, clustered around me like I’m their sun and they’re trying to earn the right to be in my path.

Compliments fly, subtle touches land. But my focus never really leaveshim.

Because I can feel Lucian watching me.

Like daggers dragging down my spine.

His gaze is a weight, burning holes through silk and skin. I don’t even need to see him to know—he’s getting closer now. Not storming. Not obvious. But with the slow, lethal grace of a tiger stalking prey.

And still, I tip him further.

I run my hand through my hair, flipping it over one shoulder in that offhand way that always seems so innocent.

The man who lifted me takes the bait.

“God, your perfume smells so good.”

“Care for a closer sample?” I ask sweetly, turning my head just enough to expose the soft curve of my neck.

He moves in without hesitation. His hand slides around my waist, resting on my hip as he leans forward. His breath is warm against my skin. He inhales deeply, a faint growl slipping from his throat.

If it had been Lucian, I would’ve flooded my panties right there.

But this?

This is just for show.

And it’s workingperfectly.

Lucian gives up all pretense the moment he breaks through the edge of the crowd.

Gone is the cool composure.

Gone is the carefully practiced detachment.

What walks toward me now is a tightly coiled storm, a man seconds from implosion. Every step is silent and dangerous, heat radiating off him like static before lightning strikes.

He reaches us, eyes locked on mine, and without a word, he plucks the champagne glass from my hand. Turns and gives it right back to the man who gave it to me.

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