Page 33 of The Owner's Temptation

Eve shrugs, feigning indifference. “We’ll see who’s interested in sponsoring her tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t just talking about her.”

She smiles without looking up. “Sure, boss. Whatever you say.”

I don’t dignify it with a reply. I set my tablet down, walk back to my desk, and lock up the files before I leave for my next meeting—one I’m not fucking looking forward to.

I smooth my sleeves, adjust my cuffs, and grab my jacket from the hook.

As I step past her, I speak without looking back.

“Keep me updated.”

Eve’s voice follows, low and knowing. “Of course. About just her or?—”

“Watch it,” I call over my shoulder.

I don’t wait for her laugh, even though I hear it anyway.

By the time the elevator doors close, I’ve shut the file in my mind too. Locked tight.

Because where I’m going next?

There’s no room for distractions.

The smell of soy sauce and sesame oil fills the room as I dig my chopsticks into a carton of lo mein, sitting cross-legged on the plush white rug in the middle of my very-not-Ben apartment.

The new cream sectional behind me is wide and welcoming, with tufted cushions and cozy throw pillows in pale blush and soft sage green. A fluffy knit blanket is draped over the arm, and I’ve added gold-framed art prints above it—delicate sketches of flowers and abstract shapes that make me feel calm. Feminine. Soft. Like I finally get to breathe in my own space.

My Pinterest board has officially come to life.

“You’ve got good taste,” Harper says between bites of orange chicken, her takeout box resting on her thigh. “It looks like one of those dream apartments on Instagram. All you need is a dog named Maple and a coffee machine that costs more than your rent.”

I grin around a mouthful of noodles. “Wait till I pay off those last two credit cards and I’ll consider both.”

Harper hums approvingly, nudging her foot against mine. “Well, you’re definitely not getting fired this time. Unlike some people…”

I raise a brow. “Oh?”

She sets her box aside, leans back on her elbows, and gives me a look. “You didn’t hear this from me, but apparently Steve tried to play the whole thing off likeyouattacked him.”

I blink. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. But turns out, you weren’t the only one who saw him get decked at the party.” She grins. “Some intern from the finance team reported the whole thing—said she overheard him being a total creep and saw everything.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “So they believed her?”

“Oh, they didn’t have a choice once they got a call from some hotshot lawyer from The Masquerade.” Harper pops a piece of chicken in her mouth, clearly enjoying the gossip. “Apparently, they were going to press charges if he wasn’tdealt withproperly. They marched him out of the building by lunch. Security escort and everything.”

My jaw drops. “You’re serious?”

“Dead.” She grins. “They even sent out one of those vague internal memos about ‘upholding workplace values.’ I almost framed it.”

I laugh, the kind of deep, cathartic laugh that only comes after too much stress and too many “what ifs.”

“He cried too. It was glorious.”

Oddly that makes me feel a lot better, knowing he got what was coming to him.

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