Page 44 of The Owner's Temptation

A faint smile touches the corner of his mouth. It’s barely there. “That’s the point.”

He pauses, his gaze sliding over me—not in a way that feels lecherous, but like he’s reading something between the lines of my expression. Maybe even beneath my skin.

“You surprised me,” he says.

I arch a brow, caught off guard. “How so?”

His eyes don’t waver. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

That lands. Harder than it should.

I reach for my glass, giving myself a second before I answer. “Then why give me the card?”

Lucian studies me for a long moment, the weight of his gaze a pressure I feel in my chest, my spine, my pulse.

“That’s a question,” he says finally, “you’ll answer over time.”

His tone is unreadable. Smooth. Dismissive, maybe. Or patient.

“Or you won’t,” he adds simply.

I swallow, unsure whether it was a challenge, or something else entirely.

But I can’t stop myself.

“Well, you’re the expert. How am I doing so far?” I ask, careful to keep my tone even, even as something inside me twists with the question.

Lucian doesn’t answer right away.

He just looks at me.

And not the way most men do. He’s not undressing me with his eyes or cataloging my features. He’s reading something deeper. Searching for something I don’t even know if I’m showing.

My stomach tightens under the weight of it.

Then—he moves.

One step closer. His hand settles lightly at the small of my back. Not inappropriate. Not even intimate. But I feel it like a brand. A press of awareness against my body that makes my breath catch.

He leans in, his lips brushing near my ear as he gently turns me by the waist, angling me toward another conversation across the room.

“Watch her,” he murmurs.

I do.

A stunning brunette in a tight navy dress is engaged with a man who looks like he could buy half the city. She’s smiling, laughing softly, touching his forearm every chance she gets.

She’s perfect. Effortless.

Until Lucian speaks again.

“See how she forces the conversation? How she leans in too much?” His voice is low. Private. Every word slides down my spine like silk wrapped around steel. “Desperation isn’t enticing.”

The air leaves my lungs. I’m clenching around nothing, and my knees press slightly together before I can stop them.

God. His voice alone shouldn’t make me this hot. But it does.

Lucian steps back, just enough to release the warmth of his presence, and straightens his cuffs with unhurried ease.

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