Page 108 of The Owner's Temptation

The schedule.

The order.

Intercept the shipment, burn the drugs, destroy the weapons.

Leave nothing.

It’ll cost him millions. A direct hit to the gut of his operation. But I’m not after his wallet.

Money can be replaced.

Power? Reputation?

Those bleed slowly. Painfully. Publicly.

As the text sends, I glance toward the window, the skyline cutting sharp through the dusk.

LUCIAN: Leave a bottle behind.

Not just any bottle.Ourbottle.

The same whiskey I brought to his warehouse when I tried to end this before it began. The peace offering he shattered like it meant nothing.

Let’s see if he recognizes it now.

If he understands what it means when the message is returned.

This is still his final chance.

Because whether I want this war or not…

One thing is certain.

I’m not going to lose it.

With the messy business handled—orders given, fire set to rise—I shift my focus back to something far more dangerous.

My little rabbit.

Or rather, my Angel.

It’s been days since I touched her. Since I corrected her. Since I watched her pant beneath my hand and bite back a moan like she could fight the need clawing at her throat.

I shouldn’t be the one training her. I knew that the moment I saw her. I should’ve passed her file off, let someone else shape her.

But then I saw the way the other men looked at her. That mixer—those hands reaching, those gazes lingering—was all it took.

She’s mine to mold.

Mine to command.

Mine to ruin, if I choose.

Tonight, her lesson is different.

Less about rules. More about power. The kind that doesn’t come from spoken commands, but from silence, structure, presence.

She steps out of the bathroom, freshly touched up. I don’t speak—just motion her forward from my place in the leather armchair. Sleeves rolled, legs spread, watching her in contemplation.

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