Page 40 of The Owner's Temptation

“You would do best to keep your head down. Because when I come collecting... I won’t miss.”

I pause at the threshold, one hand on the steel door.

“I’ll see you around Lo.”

And I walk out, leaving the bottle of whiskey on the table where it sits—untouched.

A peace offering refused.

A warning ignored.

And now a war about to be written in fucking blood.

The hum of curling irons and the soft hiss of hair spray fill the air as stylists and makeup artists work their magic. The room smells like roses and heated ceramic. There’s music playing low—some sexy, thumping track that’s clearly meant to set a confident tone—but my nerves are louder.

Most of the girls went with little black dresses. Classic. Timeless. Safe.

I went the other direction.

Bone-white.

Short.

Fitted.

Deliberately bold against my skin.

A statement.

I catch my reflection in the mirror. My auburn hair tumbles in waves, and my makeup is flawless—soft, glowing, and not too sultry. The dress hugs every curve, skimming high on the thigh and dipping just low enough to earn a second glance.

If nothing else, I look like I belong here tonight.

Even if I’m not sure I feel like it yet.

The girl beside me is pale. Her stylist moves to grab more setting powder, and she clutches her clutch like it’s a lifeline. Her hands are trembling.

I lean over just slightly, offering a smile. “You look stunning. That neckline? Showstopper.”

She exhales a shaky breath, smiling back. “Thank you. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“Then make sure you do it gracefully,” I tease gently. “Preferably onto someone rich.”

She laughs, tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Noted.”

I hope it helped. I really do. Because I get it.

The nerves. The unknown. The sick tangle of excitement and dread.

Tonight is theMixer. The moment all of this—the training, the NDA, the whispered promises—gets real. Billionaires, CEOs, politicians… men with too much money and too little time will walk onto the rooftop patio tonight looking to sponsor their next Ledger Companion.

And we’re the inventory.

It’s not a transaction—not exactly.

We’ve already set our limits.

We get to say no.

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