Page 30 of The Owner's Temptation

Because no one touches what’s mine.

And every woman under my protection—every contract, every Companion—ismine.

So now I’m back.

Back in the city. Back in control.

Back tomy empire.

The Black Ledger is where it belongs—at the center of power. Silent. Discreet. Unshakable.

And last night, I needed a release. An outlet.

I needed the rush. The surrender. The kind of night that wrings the tension out of your bones and leaves you drunk on control.

The Devil walked the halls of the Masquerade and found plenty to play with.

And it should’ve worked.

It always does.

Except last night, it didn’t.

Not the way it usually does.

I knew a new batch of recruits was set to begin orientation. I make a point to introduce myself, at least once. A presence check. It matters.

But I didn’t.

Two weeks of back-to-back fires—violent, bloody, reputation-shaking messes—kept my attention off the books and squarely on the men trying to bleed me dry.

Eve can handle the orientation. I trust her with everything. ButThe Ledgerisn’t just a business. It’s not some faceless corporation.

It’s my empire. My name. My legacy.

Everyone in it is family. Everyone in it is mine to protect.

Apparently that now includesher.

The woman from the rooftop party.

I gave her a card. I don’t usually do that. In fact, I haven’t done it in years. It was a rash decision, one I made before I had time to think better of it.

And if I’m being honest—I still don’t know why I did it.

She wasn’t throwing herself at me. She wasn’t even trying to impress anyone.

But the way she stood up to that prick—defiant, unafraid, mouth sharp as a blade—and the way she didn’t flinch when I made sure he’d never try that shit again…

There was something there.

Something in her eyes that told me she wasn’t weak. That under the shock and nerves, under the cocktail dress and too-honest laugh, there was someone who could hold her own in this world. Maybe even thrive in it.

I gave her the card, assuming she’d toss it.

Most do.

Women like her don’t usually follow through. Not because they can’t—but because they don’t believe they belong here.

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