Page 15 of The Owner's Temptation

The doors glide shut, and the elevator begins its smooth ascent.

“So,” she says, casually, as if she’s just making small talk. “You’re the girl Lucian picked himself.”

I stiffen slightly.

The way she says it—like it’s a thing.

"Well, I’m not exactly sure what I’m getting into here," I admit, shifting the black folder in my arms. “So, I’m not sure why that’s significant.”

Elena studies me for a beat before her lips curve again. That smile.

"Lucian is very busy. He hasn’t gotten into the selection process in several years, is all. It’s just… a rare event."

Rare event.

I swallow, unsure what the hell to do with that information.

"So… when was the last time he ‘picked’ someone?" I ask, my voice careful, because I have no idea how to phrase this.

Elena’s eyes flick to the doors, watching as the numbers above tick higher. Then she glances back at me, something amused and unreadable in her expression.

"When he hired me."

Oh.

She says it like it’s nothing, but her presence is still warm, steady—not threatening, not like this is some kind of competition.

And I appreciate that. It relaxes me, if only a bit.

The elevator chimes, the doors gliding open to reveal a sprawling room beyond.

Rows of sleek black chairs fill the space—about forty or fifty women, all of them stunning in their own unique way. Some are chatting, others scanning the room with sharp, calculating gazes.

I try not to panic-assess my place here.

Elena leads me forward, and before I can process anything else, a bombshell brunette steps into our path, grinning like she’s got juicy gossip to share.

“My bestie, Eve,” Elena introduces, warmth evident in her tone.

Eve’s sharp brown eyes sweep over me in one quick, efficient glance.

“Is this her?” Eve asks and Elena confirms with a sharp nod, smirking, her voice honeyed and confident. “Gorgeous.”

“You do know I can hear you?”

Eve’s smirk only grows. “And feisty. I like her already.”

And suddenly, my brain decides that maybe this is a modeling agency, and my first thought is…

I’m too short.

At 5’3, I’m basically hobbit-sized compared to some of these women. My heels give me a few extra inches, but still—not glamazon levels.

Elena gestures toward a long refreshment table against the far wall.

“We’ll be starting soon. Feel free to grab something before we begin.”

I’m actually thankful, because my nerves had kept me from eating earlier.

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