Page 24 of The Sterling Acquisition

Or I could just push you down on that bed right now and show you how much better my approach would be.

“What if I don’t want to be owned at all?”

“Then you’d be making an unrealistic choice based on idealism rather than practical assessment.” Dante’s patience was the kind reserved for explaining obvious facts. “Freedom is a luxury your circumstances don’t allow for.”

“So I should be grateful for a prettier cage?”

“You should be intelligent enough to recognize superior resource management when it’s offered.”

The clinical language made Orion’s eyes flash with something murderous. “Resource management.”

“You are brilliant, beautiful, and currently mismanaged resource with extraordinary potential,” Dante said without hesitation. “I’d prefer to manage you properly.”

Starting with getting you out of that shirt and finding out if you taste as good as you smell.

“You arrogant piece of shit.”

Dante smiled. “Yes. But I’m a competent piece of shit who wants to keep you alive and mentally intact. Which puts me significantly ahead of your other options.”

“All of which involve being owned by arrogant pieces of shit.”

“Exactly. I’m simply the best version of an inevitable outcome.” Dante’s shrug was casual. “Intelligence over idealism, Orion.”

Intelligence like recognizing that arguing with you is significantly less appealing than finding out what sounds you make when you stop being sarcastic.

The air was thick with competing pheromones and barely restrained tension. Dante could see the rapid pulse at Orion’s throat, could smell the way his scent was shifting despite his obvious anger. He wanted so badly to taste him—

Fuck. This room is too small, and he smells too good, and I’m about five minutes away from doing something that would definitely compromise the mission.

“I need to get out of this room,” Dante said abruptly.

“Can’t handle the close quarters?”

“Can’t handle your scent overwhelming my blockers while you’re in pre-heat and I’m trying to maintain professional objectivity.”

“And what happens to professional objectivity if we leave this room?” Orion’s voice carried a note of suspicion, but Dante caught the flicker of interest in his eyes.

“We find out.” Dante moved toward the door. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here and wait for Leo to come back.”

Orion stared at him for a long moment, then slowly stood. The motion was casual, almost nonchalant, but Dante noted the way his eyes darted to the open door—calculating, measuring, assessing the opportunity being presented.

“This would be the first time, you know,” Orion said, his tone light. “Walking out instead of being dragged. Or escaping.”

“I’m aware.”

“Leo will lose his mind when he finds out.”

“Leo gave me complete discretion for psychological assessment. I’m exercising that discretion.”

A smile spread across Orion’s face—wild and dangerous and beautiful. It was the smile of someone being offered a weapon and recognizing its value immediately.

“Well,” he said, stepping toward the doorway with deliberate casualness that couldn’t quite hide the tension in his shoulders, “this should be interesting.”

Chapter eight

Dangerous Territory

Orion