Page 47 of The Owner's Temptation

It starts with overconfidence. A client who thinks he can reshape her faster than she’s ready for. Push her too far, too fast. They think if she crumbles, they’ll rebuild her stronger.

But they never do.

They just break her.

My jaw ticks as I scroll through the approved sponsor list, reading with a narrowed eye. I vetted these men myself. I know their preferences. Their patterns. Their reputations.

None of them are right for her.

Not really.

She needs structure. Patience. A steady hand and someone who will know when to pull back, not just how to push forward.

That’s why I’m looking into this.

Not because I want her.

Not because her auburn hair has been crawling under my skin since that rooftop party.

Not because I watched her watch me last night. Or because I’ve imagined her bound in leather and writhing in my hands no less than two dozen times since we locked eyes in the Devil’s Playground.

No.

It’s because no one else will handle her correctly.

That’s all.

That’s the only reason I’m doing this.

And I tell myself that lie again as I pull up her file, slide my finger over to the “sponsor override” tab…

And then I page Eve.

I’ve checked the time so many times I might as well just tattoo it on my wrist.

8:57 AM.

Still no Eve.

I sit in the third row—not too close to the front to seem overeager, not in the back like I’m hiding. It feels like the Goldilocks of seating choices, and yet somehow it still doesn’t feel right.

I tuck my phone into my lap and glance around. Everyone’s dressed up again. Polished. Quiet. The air hums with nerves, and I’m no exception.

My leg is bouncing, hands wringing in my lap before I force myself to stop. I can't look like I'm falling apart. I have to appear collected. Graceful. Poised.

Like I belong here.

I replay the conversations from last night in my head like a mental montage on repeat.

The charming man who smelled like cedar wood and asked intelligent questions.

The silent one with the cold smile and assessing gaze that made me feel like I was being dissected.

The older gentleman who made me laugh with a terrible dad joke and genuinely seemed to care if I was comfortable.

And then... Lucian.

His challenge still lingers like a ghost.Don’t do what she did. Be better. Show me.

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