Page 15

That day, I was in a crappy mood and decided to prepare a nice dinner. Lately, I’d been relying on meal-prep deliveries, unable to focus enough to cook anything, but I was starting to miss homemade food.

Treating myself to a good meal always worked wonders, helping me relax. But despite my ambitious plans, I ended up wandering the aisles aimlessly, staring blankly at the shelves while my mind kept flickering back to a certain someone with mint-green hair.

The past few days had been a carousel ride. I kept throwing myself into these pointless efforts to stabilize, to flatten out whatever had arisen in me after that last conversation with Sariel. I was unsettled by how intense it was, how consuming, and how little sense it made.

I’d spent hours muttering to myself,

What the fuck are you doing, Winter? You’re about to wreck your life and torch your reputation if you let this go one step further. Get your shit together. This isn’t you. What is it about this strange kid that’s got you losing your mind, so careless, so out of line? Pull yourself together.

That was the order I gave myself on repeat. But the battle was ongoing, no resolution in sight.

To make matters worse, that morning I’d had a one-on-one with Jacob.

The meeting was supposed to be about the Japanese negotiations, discussing final details for the BA app deal.

And then, because life clearly wasn’t done throwing stressful shit at me, he suddenly changed the subject.

"So," he said casually, "how are things going with Sariel? Werner gave him a solid review, but I want your take."

Good thing I wasn’t someone who flushed easily. I kept my voice steady.

"Everything’s fine. Sariel’s focused, dedicated to the work."

Jacob pinned me with a long, unreadable stare.

"And his behavior? Noticed anything… off?"

What was I supposed to say? That his son kept flirting with me? That I was skating on a razor-thin edge, one bad impulse away from doing something reckless?

"He’s professional. There’s no issue," I lied without blinking.

"Good. It needs to stay that way," Jacob said, his tone sharp and final. Not a comment. A demand.

I left the meeting with sweat down my back and ice in my veins.

Somehow, I had to put the brakes on this. But I didn’t know if I could, because whatever was happening between me and Sariel had a momentum of its own now. A velocity—wild, accelerating.

Dazed, I stared at a shelf of Italian pasta, trying to pick something out while my thoughts scattered like drunk sheep on a slippery hillside.

And then, just like that, that mint-haired hero of my broodings appeared.

Sariel turned the corner so abruptly we nearly collided.

"Oh! Pardon me!" he exclaimed.

What the… I narrowed my eyes. No way this was a coincidence. Either I was going insane, or the universe had it out for me.

His expression—surprised, innocent, was just a little too perfect. Like he’d rehearsed it.

"What are you doing here?" It sounded icy, but Jacob’s voice still echoed in my head, and the last thing I needed was to test my boss’s limits.

"Me?" Sariel blinked, feigning cluelessness. "Just grabbing some toner. A set of ink cartridges."

I stared. Just stared, waiting expectantly. He cleared his throat and gave me that sheepish little smile.

"This aisle’s mostly pasta and grains," I said slowly, emphasizing the last two words.

"Yeah, but you have to go through here to get to the office supplies."

Obviously, that had to be said out loud. Cleared up, once and for all. Maybe this was a good opportunity? I closed my eyes, took a breath, and let it out.

"Sariel, I spoke to your father today. He asked how you’re doing. I told him you’ve been behaving professionally, and he was glad to hear it. He wants things to stay that way. So please… just go."

His eyes locked on mine. "Did you tell him about… us?"

"There is no us."

"There is," he said quietly. "You’re just scared to admit it."

I huffed, forcing myself to keep it together.

"Sariel… Fine. Maybe there’s some… tension. But you and I both know this can’t happen. It can’t. Don’t you get that?"

"I bet it will."

Oh, hell no. This kid was playing with fire. My cool was leaving me slowly.

"Your father would destroy me, Sariel."

He tilted his head. "So you didn’t tell him. Because it’s still ‘would’. Good to know."

I let out a bitter half-laugh. "I didn’t tell him because I actually want to keep my job. So do me a favor and just walk away, will you?"

His lips curled into a small pout as he murmured, "Technically, I have every right to shop wherever I want. I’m a customer, just like anyone else."

That rebellious streak, Gosh, should I hate it or love it? I sighed, exasperated.

"This is harassment."

"Oh, c’mon. Why so serious? It’s just shopping."

"Do you have to be so damn annoying?"

"What am I even doing?"

"Don’t. You’re doing more than you should, considering you’re my employee. And I’m telling you to respect the boundaries I’ve set. There will never be anything between us, no matter what fantasy you’ve cooked up in that minty head of yours."

Grimacing, I turned away and walked off.

But I could still hear the rattle of his cart behind me. He was following, quietly, like a kicked puppy.

Finally, my patience cracked. "Are you seriously just going to trail behind me like this?"

"I have every right to be in this store," he muttered, his voice low and rebellious, lips puckering in defiance.

My irritation was boiling over. I wandered erratically through the aisles, unable to think straight, let alone pick anything out for dinner, not with Minty glued to my heels.

I spun around abruptly and faced him. "Do I need to call store security and tell them I’ve got a stalker?"

He stopped too, leaning casually on the cart.

"Go ahead. Call them," he said with that strange expression. That unyielding mutinous energy, so opposite to everything I was. I was built on structure, order, control, and being… proper.

Sariel was a walking middle finger to all of that.

"That’s the problem with guys like you," I snapped. "Rules don’t mean a damn thing because golden boys always get away with everything. But for me? This kind of situation could wreck my life."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Does it hurt?"

"What?" I barked.

"Being that frozen inside."

We were literally having a staredown now.

Then he softly whispered, "Can’t you just… be normal?"

My emotions were boiling inside me—far from being frozen—as I stepped in closer. "News flash: I live in real life. With real responsibilities and a career I actually care about. And I’m not going to risk it for someone who has nothing to lose. No matter what happens, your father’s not kicking you out. But me? He’ll crush me. Don’t you care what happens to me?"

We were chest to chest now.

I caught the faint scent of mint again, and saw his lips tremble just slightly.

"I do care," he whispered. "A lot."

"Then leave me alone, Sariel."

He closed his eyes. "Is that what you really want?"

Lie, I needed to say. Lie…

Sariel’s eyes shifted over my face. He caught my hesitance and followed through with his line,

"Because you’re all I think about, Winter… And I won’t let him fire you. I’m a shareholder, I’ve been one since I turned eighteen."

God, he sounded so na?ve. Unfortunately, I had to end it. Push him away for real. Because he wasn’t going to give up unless I made him.

So I stepped even closer, hating myself already.

"First of all, I don’t like alphas and I don’t date them!" I said, low and sharp.

Silence. Almost vibrating.

Mint-green eyes caught me, like shadowy lakes deep in a vast forest, holding secrets, dangerous, pulling me into their depths.

Then Sariel slowly turned his head, his gaze drifting absently across the store shelves, but I could tell he was immersed in thought.

And then… damn, he hit right on target:

"He hurt you deep, didn’t he?"

The anger nearly exploded out of me.

How dare he!

How dare he touch on something nobody even knew about… something I didn’t want to deal with myself.

So I just kept going, like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t hit the nail on the head.

"You’re the epitome of a rich, careless kid. You think you can have everything. From the second I met you, all I’ve wanted was to punch that cute, bratty face of yours!"

The words hit the air, and I knew the second they left my mouth, they were exactly what he wanted. In a twisted way.

"Then do it," he murmured, something dark flickering in his eyes as he leaned in, his chest pressing even harder against mine.

Our breaths mingled. We were so close that if he kissed me right now, I wouldn’t stop him. In fact, I might even bite his lower lip. The thought surfaced in my mind before I had the chance to stop it.

"Well?" he taunted. "Do it. Hit me. Just like you’ve always wanted to. The disgusting, spoiled little brat who threatens to ruin your career, who says all the things you don’t want to hear…"

I felt my pulse hammering. I did want to slap him, somewhat. Just enough to make that damn fringe fall over his other eye. Just to see the flicker of something breaking in his gaze… And then, Fate help me, to piece him back together again.

I twitched slightly as I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist.

It hit me then that we were completely alone in the pasta aisle. Not a single soul around. Just me, him, and this strange, charged, almost exhilarating atmosphere between us.

Sariel lifted my hand, positioning it just right, so that if I swung, it would land clean across his face.

"Go on," he challenged. "Hit me, Winter. Oh, excuse me—‘Director’. I’ve been a bad boy, haven’t I? I deserve a good slap."

"Maybe you do," I muttered. "The question is, do I actually want to give it to you?"

My skin prickled with heat. His grip on my wrist was firm, and then I noticed it, the hair tie on his own wrist. Mine.

He had a piece of me. Maybe more than I was willing to give. Maybe… still not enough.

"Come on, show some guts, Winter. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell my father, I’m not a fucking snitch! Don’t be scared, it’ll be our dirty little secret. You’ll have lived out every corporate worker’s fantasy, punching the boss’s spoiled brat of a son."

I was right on the edge, teetering over the intense, metallic taste of potential. Had he read that desire in me? Or had he pushed it just a little further than I was prepared for?

His fingers tightened around my wrist—and then, before I could react, he pulled my arm back and swung it forward.

Using my own hand, he slapped himself across the face.

Hard.

I felt the sharp sting as my palm collided with his cheek, the sound cracking through the empty aisle.

"Fuck!" I hissed, recoiling.

To anyone watching, it would have looked like I had actually hit him. But I knew the truth, I could never have done it myself. It wasn’t what I wanted deep down. It was the exact opposite of what I wanted. It was simply… wrong.

And it broke me inside, in a way.

Sariel stood there, head slightly bent down and to the side, bangs falling low, something like sadness in his eyes.

"I hope you feel better now, Winter," he said quietly. "That’s what everyone wants, isn’t it? To see me knocked down. Humiliated. Stripped of everything my father gave me, everything they think I don’t deserve. Just a worthless little piece of shit who does not deserve… you. Isn’t that right?"

Something in my chest twisted. I stepped toward him on impulse.

I raised my hand—

He flinched.

That reaction, that instinctive recoil, shattered even more inside me. He thought I was going to hit him again?

But my hand came down gently, fingertips brushing his cheek. I trembled. He trembled.

Slowly, tenderly, I stroked his soft, warm skin. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen sadder eyes.

He turned his face slightly, inhaling near my wrist.

I watched, unmoving, as he lifted his hand, fingers circling my wrist, pulling it closer, toward his mouth.

As his lips pressed against the small gland there, I shuddered.

Every ABO has tiny scent glands on the inner wrists. For omegas, these are highly active, allowing them to mark their nests with pheromones. For betas, like the ones on the neck, they’re mostly dormant. But Sariel’s nose found mine effortlessly.

He gazed up at me from behind my wrist, pupils blown wide. His lips drew back just enough for me to see, his mating teeth were out.

Something wild surged through me.

But I didn’t pull away.

And then… his fangs sank into my wrist.

A sharp, electric pleasure shot through me, ripping a gasp from my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to moan as that sweet, blissful sensation cascaded down my spine, spreading through my stiffening cock, clenching my hole.

Then, just as suddenly, Sariel released me.

His mouth left my skin. His fingers uncurled from my wrist. His expression was dazed, as if he himself had no idea what he had just done.

"I'm… sorry," he mumbled.

Then, as if something pained him, he grimaced slightly, turned on his heel, and rushed away.

What the fuck just happened?

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I stood there in the aisle, feeling strange, staring at my wrist. How really fucking bizarre. I let him bite me in the store! And I almost hit him. Or maybe I actually did.

That whole scene between us, the words we exchanged…

What scared me was that, in a way, he wasn’t entirely wrong. For a long time, I really hadn’t wished him well. I wanted to see him humiliated, to see him get some kind of punishment for all the things he had that he didn’t deserve. Because I had to fight for everything I had in life, while he had it all handed to him on a silver platter.

But at the end of that list, one more thought crept into my mind.

He never asked for any of it. He didn’t choose to be born into that family. And he sure as hell didn’t ask to work at this company, in my department, it was forced on him. And yet, somehow, he was the one paying the price for it.

I tossed two bags of random pasta into my basket and turned toward the checkout, feeling torn apart and frustrated.

Two registers over, Sariel was standing there, hunched over, staring at the floor. He clearly hadn’t noticed me.

That’s when I saw it, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his black long-sleeve shirt. No drawing printed on his chest today.

From the side, I hadn’t seen it before, but now… there were tears on his cheeks.

And I thought then, he must be lonely.

No one saw him as just a regular guy. Everyone had already decided who he was, what he must be like. No one ever gave him a real chance, never gave him a clean slate. Me included. Those assumptions overshadowed everything, made it so that he was disliked by default.

We both stepped toward the checkout at the same time.

And Sariel really did buy printer toner!

It was DTG printer ink, the kind used with heat presses.

We left the registers at the same time and headed toward the exit.

That’s when he finally noticed me. I saw the tiniest flicker of something cross his face before he quickly looked away and headed toward his car.

Picking up my pace, I knew I was about to do something really stupid.

He opened his car door, and by then, I was right next to him.

"Sariel, wait."

He stopped.

"I want to call a truce. I’m sorry if I treated you worse than the other employees, you didn’t deserve that. I’d like for us to start fresh."

His mint-green eyes widened slightly, but the sadness didn’t fade.

There was a faint pink mark on his cheek where my hand had struck his skin.

"Is that even possible between us, Winter? Starting with a clean slate?"

"Why not? We just have to make sure our… dynamic doesn’t turn into something less professional. And you can see for yourself, it’s already dangerously close," I said, exhaling slightly. Then I raised my wrist, showing it to him.

His gaze dipped to the two faint red marks on my wrist. Then he looked up, locking eyes with me.

One step. Then another.

And suddenly, he was in my space again, where, for all the wrong reasons, I desperately wanted him to be.

"But… there’s one thing I need to check before I go," he murmured.

Slowly, his hands lifted, sliding around me, one settling between my shoulder blades, the other low at my waist.

His fresh, minty scent enveloped me, and a strong shiver shot down my spine.

On instinct, I closed my eyes as he leaned in, his breath brushing hot and tickling against the sensitive skin of my neck.

My heart slammed in my chest, my breathing sped up, everything inside me propelling toward him.

Then his lips, warm, soft, grazed my neck, sending a pulse of electricity through me. They left a few openmouthed, damp kisses there, slow and lingering, each one making me tremble harder, blood flowing down.

And then, Fate, have mercy on me, I let out the quietest, most humiliating moan, my hip pushing forward, searching and… finding.

His hardness pressed against mine.

Sariel’s mouth traveled upward, leaving sensual, slow kisses along my jaw, brushing my chin, heading exactly where I craved him most.

I tilted my face up, lips parting—eager, desperate for the kiss I thought was coming.

But it didn’t.

He stopped, hovering just above me.

Confused, breathless, I opened my eyes, and found him staring down at me, his gaze burning, searing right through me.

Fuck. I must’ve looked so obvious, practically begging for it.

Heat and embarrassment crashed over me all at once, my heart stuttering wildly.

Then, without a word, he let his hands fall away and stepped back.

"I don’t know if I can promise I won’t cross that line again," he said, his voice low, rough. "And honestly… I’m not even sure how much you want me to."

His eyes flicked to my still-parted lips.

A beat passed. His expression shifted, one last, bittersweet smile.

And then he turned, got into his car, slammed the door, and drove off.

Leaving me standing there, in complete disarray.