Page 197 of The Owner's Temptation

“Congratulations.” I blink, surprised. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”

“Most people don’t.” He glances at me in the rearview mirror, his voice lower now. “But Mr. Vale, he’s not the monster people think. He’s hard, yeah. But he protects his own. I have a lot of respect for Mr. Vale.”

My chest tightens, but I just nod. I don't respond.

Not because I don’t agree. But because Iknow.

And still, he let me go.

The car slows as we pull into the hangar lot. The engines of parked planes whine in the distance, but our designated spot is quiet. No jet. No roar of turbines.

One man in a suit and cliché dark sunglasses is already waiting, opening my door when Felix rolls to a stop.

He pops the trunk and gets out, already moving to gather my bags.

“Miss Knight.” The man greets me, opening my door. He doesn’t offer his hand to help me out and I’m glad I elected to wear a fitting pantsuit and wedge heels. The deep-V in the front is still sensual without giving away too much and it will be a comfortable plane ride to a more tropical environment.

Eve coached me on a few final things and to have an outfit ready to change into on the plane just before landing.A Ledger girl is nothing if not always looking fresh.

Felix hands my bags to the suit who promptly turns toward the hangar.

“Miss Knight,” Felix says softly, “you sure you’re okay?”

I nod again. “I’m good, Felix. Really.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he gives me a kind smile.

A moment later, the hangar doors shift open.

And two men step out.

One of them wears a sharp suit and shaded expression like the man who took my bags. Security I presume. The other man… walks like someone who commands a room before he’s even in it.

Dominic Salvi.

His dark eyes cut through the distance between us, unapologetically direct. The air around him hums with that same quiet power I recognized the first time we met. A presence that doesn’t ask for attention—it simply claims it.

He walks straight toward me like I’ve already agreed to belong to him.

And maybe, for now, I have.

TWO DAYS LATER

It’s been five days since I ripped my heart out of my chest and left it tangled in the sheets of my bed.

Five days since I looked Sienna in the eye and told her a lie so brutal it still tastes like blood in my mouth.

I haven’t been back to the house outside the city. I can’t. Not yet. The memory of her is too loud there.

In the curve of the bathtub she melted into after the attack.

In the pillow that still holds the indent of her sleep. In the goddamn kitchen—where her laugh lingered in the air while I cooked her pasta and pretended I didn’t want to devour her instead.

So I’ve been living at the club.

Avoiding the house. Avoiding the quiet. Avoiding the truth.

Crack.

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