Page 53 of The Owner's Temptation

That voice. That calm control. That maddening confidence that only makes me want tobitehim.

I plant my hands on my hips, leveling him with a glare. “Well, congratulations. I’m here. So now what?”

His eyes flick down, then back up. Slow. Deliberate.

Now?

Now the real game begins.

She walks in at exactly eight o’clock.

Which would be acceptable—if she were the client.

But she’s not.

“You’re late,” I say, not looking up from the file I’m reviewing.

There’s a pause. Then the quiet shuffle of her boots as she takes a few more steps inside.

“I thought I was on time,” she says carefully.

“You arrived at eight. My appointments begin at eight. Which means now we’re behind.”

A beat of silence. Then—she takes a subtle breath and lifts her chin. No protest. Just that small flick of her eyes to the ceiling, almost like she’s recalibrating.

A tic of rebellion. A small one but still, I mentally catalog it.

Before I can say anything further, the intercom buzzes.

“Mr. Vale, Jaxon Kane is here for you.”

“Send him in.” I glance at Sienna and nod toward the seating area near the window. “Sit.”

She hesitates for just half a second. Then moves.

Her footsteps are soft on the hardwood, and I note the way she chooses the chair furthest from my desk. Composed. Controlled. But the way she fidgets in the chair before her hands smooth over her skirt before she sits isn’t lost on me.

She’s nervous.

The door opens behind me, and Jaxon strolls in like he’s walking into his mother’s house.

“Took your time,” I say without looking up.

“You try parking in Midtown with a matte black McLaren.”

“Use the valet.” I shake my head. I don’t know why he insists on complaining about the crowd he draws when he drives his flashy cars around town.

Cocky asshole.

He drops into the chair opposite me with a smirk when he cuts his eyes at Sienna with that question lingering in his gaze. One I won’t answer because I’m not introducing her.

She’s not ready to meet someone like Jaxon.

Not until she learns how to sit still.

“How’s the right hook?” Jaxon asks as a stick of spearmint gum disappears into his mouth.

I arch a brow, amused. “Ask your jaw.”

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