Page 73 of The Owner's Temptation

I down the rest of my chardonnay and signal for another. Roman’s eyes flash with intrigue, clearly enjoying the thought that I’m just loosening up for a night of lust.

“I’ve been trying to find out a bit about you from Harper but she’s keeping any details about you a mystery.”

“Is that so?” I give a polite smile to the server as I take a new glass of wine from their tray.

“You snooping around on me, Roman?”

I let my voice drip with flirtation and watch as it pulls him right in.

So easy.

“When I find something that intrigues me, I go after it.”

Lame.

“So, what exactly do you do for a living, mysterious Sienna?”

I look at my wine and smile. I hadn’t anticipated this question and I’m not really sure how to answer.

Oh, I’m training to be an escort to billionaires.

Or maybe,I’m a paid houseplant in my boss’s office who I think of every night when I come on my vibrator.

I probably shouldn’t use either of those. Especially the second one.

“Maybe she’s one of the Devil’s playthings.” A woman whispers to her partner quietly as they pass us by.

I turn my head following them. All thoughts going back up to the ninth floor and wondering if the Devil is walking the halls of Hell tonight.

“Will you excuse me?” I take a big gulp of wine–for courage. “I need to use the bathroom.”

I don’t wait for Roman’s answer as I turn, heading straight to the elevator.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I push the button for the Devil’s Playground.

My heart pounds relentlessly as the elevator ascends to the top floor. This is reckless—borderline stupid—but I'm drawn to him in a way I can't resist.

The doors slide open, and my breath catches. There, seated regally on his throne, is the Devil himself. Black pants, no shirt, his powerful chest and sculpted abs proudly on display.

His face is hidden behind the familiar black mask, making him even more dangerously magnetic.

Our eyes lock instantly, and what truly takes my breath away is the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes burn into mine, almost possessively.

Still clutching my wine glass, I step out of the elevator. But instead of walking directly toward him, I pause, realizing for the first time that he's seated in a large, recessed pit.

His throne is perfectly centered at the farthest edge, allowing him to see everything and everyone to see him. It’s an exhibition, a display of power and control.

Slowly, confidently, I begin to circle the perimeter of the pit, moving at a deliberately torturous pace. He tracks every step I take, watching me closely, predator to prey.

I secretly hope he's hunting me.

It's exhilarating, arousing beyond anything I've ever experienced.

It takes every ounce of my self-control to tear my gaze away from his. Facing forward, I take a sip of my wine and allow my attention to drift to the spectacle unfolding around me.

The woman from the first night—the one whose pleasure he’d claimed for everyone to see—is back, wearing a black fox mask.

Another woman, also masked in a fox disguise, is seated in a chair clearly designed for maximum exposure and pleasure, her legs parted wide, fully on display.

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