Page 43 of The Owner's Temptation

It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the rooftop of The Masquerade. Since the night he broke my manager’s face and handed me the key to a life I didn’t even know I could want.

And now he’s here.

My pulse skips, quickens. My skin flushes, and suddenly the patio feels too warm.

I catch glimpses of him through the crowd—moving slowly, greeting a few high-rolling sponsors, exchanging brief words with senior Companions. Nothing over the top. Just enough to remind everyone who runs this empire.

And I can’t stop looking for him.

I try to focus on the conversation I’m in, nodding along as a kind older man compliments the structure of the mixer and asks polite questions about how training has gone so far. I give thoughtful answers. I remember my posture. I smile like Eve taught.

This is the job.

Mingle with the sponsors. Engage. Impress.

And I’m doing it. I am.

But it’s hard to stay present when I can feel him behind me. Not literally—he hasn’t come near me. But the awareness of him, of where he is in the room, is magnetic.

I track him without trying to. His broad frame leans in to speak with one of the senior Companions, the deep timbre of his voice cutting through the hum of polite conversation. He speaks low, controlled—but it carries, just enough to stand out.

Like him.

I tell myself not to look. To focus. To keep my eyes on the man in front of me. But every time Lucian moves into my periphery, I feel it.

And every time I chance a glance—he’s already looking away.

My skin prickles. My mind spins.

Eventually, I slip away to the bar and set down my half-finished champagne. “Club soda with lime,” I tell the bartender, needing the grounding of something cold and sober.

Bubbles rise in the glass, and I take a slow sip, exhaling as I turn back to the crowd.

He shouldn’t be the distraction. He’s the damn owner. He’s off-limits. I’m pretty sure even thinking about him like this is against some unspoken rule. Maybe an actual one.

But the more I try to push him out of my mind… the more it feels like he’s already there.

Because he is.

I feel it before I see it. That electric awareness that prickles up the back of my neck like a warning.

His gaze is on me.

My fingers tighten around the glass as I slowly scan the room—just in time to catch him walking directly toward me.

It’s like watching a storm cross calm waters. Controlled power. Quiet menace. He’s not hurrying. He doesn’t need to. The space clears around him as if the room parts to make way for the man who owns it.

And somehow, I don’t move.

My breath stalls, but I lift my chin, meeting him head-on as he reaches me at the bar.

“Miss Knight,” he says, voice low and smooth like aged whiskey. “Enjoying the evening?”

I blink once. Of course he already knows my name.

I hope I’m hiding how much that affects me.

“Mr. Vale,” I nod, willing my voice to stay steady. “I am. It’s… a lot to take in.”

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