Page 71 of The Owner's Temptation

I navigate to the new tracker page. The chip buried under the polish of Sienna’s freshly manicured nails is working. The marker is stationary and blinking inside an apartment building about thirty minutes from here.

My smirk widens to a grin as I look at the route she took home. Careful to go up and down cross streets, Sienna spelled out two letters clearly with the path she took:

"F" and "U."

I chuckle darkly.

“Oh, I'm going to enjoy taming the brat out of you, little rabbit.”

Maybe telling Lucian to go fuck himself via the tracking device wasn't my brightest idea, but in my defense, I was too pissed off to think clearly.

Today was the worst. Then briefly the best, then rapidly back to the worst.

Yes, I woke up a bit late—but only a bit. The subway decided today was the perfect day to malfunction. Cabs were impossible, buses overcrowded and crawling at a snail's pace because apparently, the subway outage inspired everyone in New York to flood the streets.

Three minutes. Just three measly fucking minutes late, and Lucian—Mr. Control-Freak of the Millennium—couldn't let it slide this one time. Four weeks straight of punctuality, and today he decides to humiliate me for being slightly behind schedule?

Whatever.

The Ledger spa appointment afterward was a saving grace, at least. The manicure, pedicure, and those heavenly massage chairs melted some of my frustration away. I almost forgot my morning from Hell entirely by the time I was summoned back to Lucian's office.

I had been so excited when he told me about something new. Christ, I'd practically jumped into his arms like an idiot. I nailed it, though—played my part perfectly.

But I wasn't prepared for Lucian to pull me onto his lap, toying with the lace edge of my stocking, discovering the stirrups beneath my dress. He was staking his claim, showing me that he knew exactly what lay underneath.

If my ass hadn't been on his thigh, I'm sure I would've felt his dick hardening beneath his slacks.

But Jesus Christ, bending me over that desk.

The fantasy I'd replayed in my head countless times felt dangerously close to reality. His hands on my body, positioning me exactly as he wanted, almost pushed me to the brink right there.

I swear I nearly came from anticipation alone.

I was certain he'd spank me. The thought made my knees weak, my body craving his discipline so intensely it scared me.

But the blow never came.

And when he dismissed me, frustration and humiliation battled inside me. It wasn't just embarrassment at being scolded or put in place. It was disappointment that he didn't follow through.

He had brought me right to the edge, so close to crossing a boundary we've both skirted around. And I wanted it—God, did I want it.

I wanted him to break, to put his hand on my ass and admit, through every stern touch, how thoroughly I've invaded his carefully controlled world.

But he held back, as always. And now, all I can think about is how close I came—and wonder just how close Lucian is to breaking his own rules.

Another thing I'm wondering about is who this woman is staring back at me in the mirror.

My eyes run down my body and I barely recognize her.

Harper called after work, practically begging me again to join her and Adriano at The Masquerade. She still refuses to call him her boyfriend, despite the fact he's basically been living at her place—or she's been at his—every single night this week.

It's cute, really. Harper deserves someone who lights her fire even brighter than it already burns. That’s exactly why I finally agreed to go out tonight.

I want to feel that fire myself—the kind Lucian ignites every time he pisses me off, every time my mind drifts back to that first night at the club, watching the Devil himself fuck a woman into oblivion.

The dress I chose for tonight is black leather, fitting me like a fucking glove.

It looks like thick bands of leather wrapped around my body, barely confining my tits, with a dangerously short hem.

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