Page 14 of The Owner's Temptation

A black ledger.

Of course.

She slides it toward me, along with a gold pen and a single sheet of paper.

"Sign this NDA first," she says smoothly. "You'll find out everything else in orientation."

I take the paper carefully, my fingers grazing the sleek surface. My eyes scan the document.

Standard legal jargon.

Nothing covered in orientation can be shared. No photos. No recordings. No discussions outside these walls.

A strict non-disclosure agreement, but nothing wildly different from corporate NDAs I’ve seen before.

Still, something about it unsettles me and something about this moment feels profound.

Like this is a turning point.

I could fold up the paper, hand it back, and walk out of here. I could forget about Lucian, the mystery, the goddamn painting that won’t stop looking at me.

Or.

I could sign my name and go find out whatever the hell this is.

The revolving doors spin behind me, the soft hush of movement pulling my attention.

A woman with long brown hair steps inside, pausing as a small group of three other women pass her. She waits, then follows at a measured pace, her red dress standing out like a beacon.

She smiles warmly when our eyes meet.

Something about it feels…reassuring.

Like maybe I’m not completely crazy for being here.

My gaze drifts back to the painting.

Lucian. Watching. Waiting.

He’s almost challenging me. Saying,“I bet you won’t.”With his sexy eyes and sharp jaw.

Well, watch me.

I exhale sharply, sign my name, and hand the NDA back to the receptionist.

She takes it without a word, then slides the black folder into my hands.

"You can go ahead and follow Elena," she says, nodding toward the woman in red. "She’ll be leading orientation today."

I tighten my grip on the folder and turn toward her.

My heels click against the sleek marble floor as I follow Elena across the vast, echoing lobby. The gold veining in the stone catches the light, leading my eyes upward to the impossibly high ceilings. This whole place exudes power and wealth, like it was designed to remind you exactly where you stand in the hierarchy of the world.

Elena presses the elevator button, and the gold-trimmed doors slide open in near silence.

As we step inside, I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She’s stunning—elegant yet approachable, the kind of woman who commands attention without demanding it. There’s a quiet confidence to her, something warm but knowing.

And when she smiles, it’s like she knows the joke everyone else does—except me.

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