Page 48 of The Owner's Temptation

Ididtry. Iwasbetter. I think. God, what if I overdid it? What if they all saw right through me and thought I was trying too hard?

I slide my purse off my shoulder and set it carefully on my chair, along with my blazer. Then I make a beeline for the coffee station in the back of the room.

I don’t even care if the caffeine makes my heart race more—at least it’ll give my hands something to hold.

The coffee’s lukewarm and bitter, but it gives me something to focus on.

9:12.

Still no Eve.

Conversations are starting to hum among the other recruits. Nervous laughter. Whispered speculation. I return to my seat and scroll through my inbox, as if a job offer might magically appear and make all of this irrelevant.

It doesn’t.

9:24.

I’m just about to start spiraling again when my phone buzzes.

HARPER: Don’t forget you’rethemoment today. They’re lucky to breathe your air.

I smile, immediately typing back.

ME: More likepanic in human formwith killer lipstick. But thank you.

HARPER: Panic is sexy if you accessorize it right. Also, you wore white. You’re the sacrificial virgin in a room full of horny vampires. I’m sure they ate it up.

I choke on my coffee.

ME: Helpful as always.

HARPER: Text me the second you know who won you. Or I riot.

9:45.

At last, the doors at the front of the room open and Eve walks in, a black folder in one hand and her hair in a slick, perfect bun. She doesn’t look flustered, but the quickness of her steps gives her away.

“Sorry, darlings,” she says as she makes it to the front. “Minor chaos upstairs. But I have your placements.”

All the air seems to suck out of the room. My heart hammers behind my ribs. I sit up straighter, clutching my cup like it might anchor me.

This is it.

This is the moment that decides everything.

And I’m not sure if I’m ready.

I take another sip of my now-cold coffee, willing it to settle the storm building in my stomach. It doesn’t.

The room is buzzing with soft chatter and barely-contained anticipation. Girls sit in tidy rows, hair and makeup still perfect from the early morning prep session. Some bounce their legs. Some chew the inside of their cheeks. Me? I can’t feel my hands.

Eve steps to the front of the room, a thick stack of black folders in hand. She doesn’t waste time.

“Alright, ladies,” she says with a bright, confident smile. “You all survived the first phase of training, which is no small feat. And I’m proud of every single one of you. But today… today is the next step.”

A hush falls over the room.

“The highest bid in this batch goes to…” She flips open the first folder. “Mila Rosenthal.”

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