Page 25 of The Owner's Temptation

I swallow hard, fingers tightening around my glass.

Further in, the setting becomes more deliberate.Designed.

Rooms framed by sheer curtains, alcoves lined with plush seating. The air hums with something electric, something slow and indulgent.

A blindfolded woman sits in a silk-draped chair, her posture relaxed as a man lifts her hand to his lips. He kisses the inside of her palm, then the tip of each finger, his movements slow, reverent. She shivers.

A velvet massage table sits a few steps away, a woman sprawled across it, her mask tilted slightly as strong hands work warm oil into her back. She exhales, tension melting beneath each firm press of his fingers.

My skin prickles.

This is what Lust is about.Not just sex, but sensation. The slow unraveling of control.

I take another sip of champagne, forcing my gaze forward.

Deeper in, the boundaries between spectator and participant blur. A couple sprawls across a chaise lounge, half-dressed, moving together in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. Another woman kneels between a man’s legs, her lips parting in a whisper I can’t hear.

My stomach tightens.

I expected this. Iknewwhat kind of club The Masquerade was. But knowing and witnessing are two different things.

And the realization that unsettles me the most?

Ilikeit.

The warmth pooling low in my stomach. The slow, insidious pulse between my legs.

Arousal. Curiosity. An aching kind of awareness I can’t ignore.

I exhale sharply, glancing at the other Ledger girls. Some of them are wide-eyed, others are scanning the room like they’re calculating possibilities.

The blonde beside me murmurs, “If this is just the second floor…” She trails off, taking a sip of her drink.

I nod absently.

Because if this is justLust?—

What happens when we go deeper into Hell?

* * *

By the time I step off the elevator onto the fifth floor,Wrath,I am practically panting.

Not from exertion.

From something deeper.

From the slow, building heat that has been coiling inside me with every floor we’ve ascended.

Gluttonywas indulgence. Decadence. The kind of pleasure meant to be consumed in excess.

Greedwas power. Control. A floor where submission was currency and dominance was the only acceptable form of wealth.

Somewhere between the champagne, the lingering touches of bodies brushing past me, and the raw, unrestrained nature ofGreed,I lost my group.

They were taking a tour of each floor so if I just keep going up, I’ll find them eventually.

The shift is immediate. The moment I step into the dim, red-lit expanse ofWrath,the space is not just darker. The very atmosphere is–heavier.

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