Page 171 of The Owner's Temptation

Lucian loves my stirrups. Loves when I wear something that suggests surrender.

There are no stockings—just thin bands around my thighs, elegant gold chains threading up to a delicate leather garter belt. From behind, they form an intricate design, like spider silk meant to trap.

Meant to bind.

Because theyarebindings.

Each chain can hook the cuffs of my wrists behind my back, locking me into a helpless position. Exposed. At his mercy.

It’s a thong, of course.

A thin one and it makes my ass look fuckingdivine.

I walk level by level, pretending I’m just here for fun, pretending I’mnotcounting the seconds until the door bursts open, andhestorms through it like a thunderstorm dressed in Armani.

I’m planning on the chase.

I’mcountingon the punishment.

But I’m not going to give in. Not yet. Not until he admits the truth.

I’m not just a Companion. Not just his trainee.

And that’s why he won’t let me go.

Because I’m the only one hewon’t release.

The one hehoards.

He can’t own me in pieces and pretend I don’t mean something to him.

Not anymore.

If he wants me—reallywants me—he’ll have to come take me.

And this time, he’ll have to say it out loud.

I set the empty glass on the table, letting the last cool traces of water slide down my throat. No alcohol tonight. I need to stay sharp. Nerves like live wire. Mouth dry from anticipation.

The fourth floor—Greed—hums around me, plush and indulgent, filled with slow movements, whispered promises, and the sharp glint of power playing at the corners of every smile.

Then the alarm sounds.

Soft. Measured. Controlled. Like everything else at The Masquerade, it doesn’t scream—itsuggests.

I see the shift ripple through the room instantly. Conversations pause. Hands retreat. Eyes lift to the corners where the lights wait. The thirty-second warning gives everyone a chance to reclaim their anonymity, rearrange their masks, or disengage from whatever—or whoever—they might not want to be seen with.

But for me?

It’s not a warning.

It’s a signal.

The Devil has arrived.

He’s here. And he’s looking for me.

I’m standing near the stairwell when the sound begins, and my body moves before I’ve fully made the decision. Fingers on the door. A sharp inhale. And I’m gone.

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