Page 77 of The Owner's Temptation

Sienna tries to step away as well, but I reach out, capturing her wrist gently yet firmly, keeping her close.

I lean in slightly, my mouth close to her ear. "Your first failure tonight," I murmur softly. "Jealousy and competition are beneath a Ledger Companion."

She pulls her wrist away sharply, sparks lighting in her eyes. "Jealous? Hardly," she says smoothly, composing herself quickly. "I was just daydreaming about being taller. Is that a crime?"

My eyes narrow slightly, though amusement threatens at her defiance. "Be careful, Sienna," I warn quietly. "I'll be watching closely tonight."

I step back, giving her space to mingle.

Over the next hour, she moves gracefully through the gallery, her presence magnetic. Even as I attempt to engage politely with acquaintances, my awareness never fully leaves her.

The soft glow of the low lights catches her auburn hair, reminding me vividly of how it felt wrapped tightly around my fist last night.

I half-listen to Adam, an investor I've known for years, as he drones on about his latest ventures. "Odd about Mateo," he muses quietly, swirling his drink thoughtfully. "Not like him to take a day off. The man even worked the day his first son was born, for God’s sake."

I hum dismissively, eyes narrowing as I track Sienna again.

Adam seems oblivious to my distraction, continuing to speculate aloud.

But something else is demanding my attention. An instinct that sends alarms through me when I notice a man lingering nearby, his attention fixed unwaveringly on Sienna.

He already approached her.

Twice.

The first time, she did what she should have and engaged him like a Companion. Enticing him with what she withholds, making him want to become a member for a chance.

The second time, it was short. She didn’t hold eye contact, instead focusing forward on the art. A believable distraction.

But now he’s back. Positioned closely behind her, eyes lingering in a manner that sparks possessive anger within me.

My knuckles flex subtly, tension coiling tight within my chest. I don't like the way he's looking at her—not one fucking bit.

She dismisses herself from her current conversation, pausing before a large, evocative painting. The art is raw, passionate—two figures entwined in black, accented only by bold, violent streaks of red. A hand grips a throat, both threatening and protective.

My steps are quiet as I approach, sliding my palm possessively over her back, gripping her hip firmly.

She gasps softly, body stiffening, then subtly relaxes into my touch. The man who’d been lurking behind her retreats immediately, understanding my silent claim.

"What do you see?" I ask softly.

She hesitates, then quietly answers, "Trust. She trusts him to protect and pleasure her, even though he has the power to hurt her. But he won't—unless she asks him to."

That last part she says with a daring coyness in her eyes.

I’m momentarily stunned by the depth of her insight. It's exactly what I feel every time I’m near her, this overwhelming need to protect and dominate simultaneously.

And it’s driving me fucking crazy.

"Exactly," I murmur, impressed.

Her cheeks flush delicately, and I tighten my hold on her hip, before I remember I don’t need to piss a circle around her and ward off that dickhead.

I decide to walk with Sienna for a few more paintings.

When she’s not actively trying to make my head explode, she’s quite enjoyable—for reasons other than my urge to rub my hands over her smooth ass.

I barely allowed myself a teasing touch last night, and it took all my strength and patience to pull away from her, not to rip her panties off and sink deep into her.

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