Page 76 of The Owner's Temptation

I arch a brow, letting my eyes trail slowly down her figure before returning to meet her gaze directly.

“Interesting choice,” I say coolly, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Care to explain why you chose to ignore my instructions?”

She lifts her chin slightly, clearly prepared for this question. I watch with interest as she smooths down the fabric of her dress, gathering herself.

“I looked up tonight’s exhibit,” she begins confidently, holding my gaze steadily.

“The artist specializes in black and white paintings, with red as the only accent color. Wearing the dress you chose would have competed with the artwork. I didn't want to offend the artist by clashing with the pieces she's worked so hard to create.”

Her explanation is perfect, considerate, and impressively thoughtful. She passes the test without even realizing she’s taken one.

A corner of my mouth threatens to twitch upward, but I suppress it, maintaining my neutral expression.

“You’re thinking like a Companion. Every detail matters and it will be your job to make sure it goes smoothly. Well done”

Like aways, she hangs on that small compliment. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth nervously trying to hide the joy she gets when I tell her she’s done something right.

It’s a tick I want to punish her for. Take that lip between my teeth and teach her I’m the only one that’s allowed to bite it.

Except I’m not. She’s off limits.

I finally concede, straightening from the doorframe. “Shall we?”

In the limo, silence settles between us comfortably at first, the low hum of tires over pavement filling the space. I finally break it, my tone measured. “Tonight, you'll be surrounded by money—prospective clients eager for an opportunity to meet a Ledger Companion.”

Sienna’s eyes flicker toward me, curiosity evident in their blue depths. “Anything specific I should do?”

“Simply mix and mingle,” I reply evenly, adjusting my cufflinks. “Enjoy the art, the company. But keep in mind—for some of these prospects, you are the art they'll be admiring tonight, the masterpiece they'll be vying to purchase.”

Her gaze sharpens, understanding blooming behind her eyes as she absorbs my words. “Understood.”

“Good.” I relax slightly into my seat, studying her quietly as the city lights blur by outside the tinted windows.

We arrive at the gallery to find the party already in full swing, elegantly dressed guests mingling beneath the soft glow of strategically placed lights. I step out first, offering my hand to help Sienna from the limo. She takes it, her fingers trembling slightly with excitement or nerves—perhaps both.

I tuck it into the crook of my elbow and she slides closer to me.

It’s immediately obvious she's never attended an event quite like this, though she's doing an admirable job masking her curiosity beneath practiced composure.

Heads subtly turn as we enter, conversations quieting momentarily. I’m accustomed to it—the subtle recognition, the intrigue of the Ledger—and tonight is no exception. But tonight, the attention also lands squarely on Sienna, as it should.

The woman of the hour notices our arrival immediately. She strides toward us, a vision in a sleek red dress designed to match the vivid accents in her art.

Tall, strikingly beautiful, and effortlessly confident, she smiles warmly as she approaches.

I lean forward slightly, kissing my old friend’s cheek. "Clara," I greet her warmly, feeling Sienna tense beside me before stepping away when Clara smoothly takes my arm, standing intimately close.

"Lucian," Clara purrs, "always a pleasure."

I see Sienna’s throat move as she swallows down a flash of jealousy, exactly as I expected she might. A lesson she must learn, though I'd be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy seeing it bother her.

“Sienna,” I say, gently drawing her attention, “this is Clara, tonight’s featured artist—and a former Ledger Companion. One of the first, actually.”

Sienna’s expression shifts ever so slightly, a mixture of surprise and insecurity quickly masked. She studies Clara briefly, clearly measuring herself against the other woman.

Another important lesson—there’s no room for insecurity in a space where each Companion is a masterpiece in her own right.

Clara gives me a quick rundown of the viewing order for the gallery, thanking me repeatedly for my patronage and support. She touches my arm again lightly before rushing off eagerly to greet other guests.

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