Page 188 of The Owner's Temptation

I hum, barely awake, but I let him lift me, clean me, and tuck me under the sheets. I feel him curl around me. His warmth. His strength.

And then his lips at my temple.

“I’m so sorry, Angel,” he whispers.

A kiss. Another. Then softer still.

“I hope you’ll forgive me.”

I don’t think he’s talking about tonight.

And just before sleep takes me completely, it hits me.

Lucian Vale is saying goodbye.

She’s still asleep, curled on her side with one hand tucked beneath her cheek. One of her legs is bared, her skin pale and soft against my black sheets.

She looks like she belongs there—like she’s always belonged here—and for one brutal, fleeting second, I let myself imagine what it would be like if this wasn’t ending.

If I could keep her.

If I wasn’t about to do what I have to do.

I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, just watching her breathe. The rise and fall of her chest is steady now, not the shallow panic of last night.

I should be relieved that she’s safe, that she’s whole. Instead, I feel like I’m being torn in half.

She looks so fucking peaceful, and it guts me.

Because I know I’m about to destroy that look on her face.

Because I know she deserves someone who won’t lie to her.

But I will.

Because it’s the only way she’ll leave me.

Lorenzo’s men got into my club.Myclub. Not through brute force, not because we were careless. I can only conclude they got in because someone close to me—someone I trusted—opened a door for them.

And if someone can get inside the Devil’s Playground, they can get to her. They already did.

They nearly killed her last night.

When I think about her taking off that blood-soaked jacket… when I thought she had been shot…

My hand curls into a fist. I force myself to breathe.

There’s still a leak in my house, and until I find it—until I burn it out at the fucking root—I can’t let her stay. Not near me. Not near any of this.

She stirs slightly in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. My stomach knots. Everything about her is soft when she sleeps. All the fire, the brattiness, the smart mouth—it fades. She looks young. Vulnerable.

And I’m about to break her.

But I have no choice.

Not if I want her to keep this war from touching her.

She doesn’t belong in the dark.

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