Page 25 of The Sterling Acquisition

Thefirstthingthathit Orion as they walked into Dante’s apartment was space. Actual space to move, to breathe, to exist without feeling like the walls were closing in around him. He forgot what it felt like to stand in a room where he could extend his arms without touching anything.

The space was meticulously organized and deliberately impersonal: no photographs, unused kitchen, perfectly aligned tablet on a glass coffee table. Standard corporate furnishings arranged with military precision. Like a hotel room occupied by a ghost who existed in the space without living in it.

The second thing that hit him was Dante’s scent.

In the small confines of his cage, the Alpha’s pheromones had been manageable. Noticeable, yes. Distracting, absolutely. But manageable.

Here, in what was Dante’s territory, his scent was everywhere. Soaked into the furniture, lingering in the air, marking every surfaceand making Orion’s pre-heat biology respond with an interest he did not want to feel.

Dangerous. This is dangerous.

“Better?” Dante asked, and there was something in his voice that made Orion look at him more carefully.

The corporate polish was still there, but there were cracks showing. Small ones—the way his eyes lingered a bit too long, the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he was standing just a little too close and leaning towards him. As if being in his own space, now mixed with Orion’s scent, was affecting him too.

Good. Let him be affected. Let him make mistakes.

“Better,” Orion agreed, though he wasn’t sure it was true. The freedom of movement was intoxicating, but everything else about this situation was setting off alarm bells in his head.

He was alone with an Alpha who wanted to own him. In that Alpha’s territory. While in pre-heat.You’re an idiot. A desperate, reckless idiot.

But the alternative had been staying in that cage, waiting for Leo to return. And despite Dante’s casual arrogance, his clinical language, and his absolute certainty that ownership was inevitable, Orion believed him when he said he preferred Omegas mentally intact.

Which made him either Orion’s potential salvation or the most dangerous threat he’d ever encountered.

Probably both.

“Suppressants,” Dante said, tossing a pill bottle toward Orion. “So we can talk without your scent being so distracting.”

Orion caught the bottle and studied the pills through the transparent plastic. Small, white, unmarked. They could be suppressants. They could be sedatives. They could be anything.

He could have drugged you anytime in the past week if that’s what he wanted. He could have overpowered you in the cage if he wanted to force something. He’s had opportunities.

That logic didn’t make the decision feel any less like stepping off a cliff.

Orion dry-swallowed two pills and waited to see if he’d just made a catastrophic mistake.

“How long before they take full effect?” he asked, surprised by how steady his voice sounded.

“Twenty minutes for the initial dampening. Full effect in about an hour.” Dante moved to what looked like a small kitchen area, and Orion noted how he moved—controlled, economical, but with an underlying tension that suggested whatever Gensyn had him on was failing. “Water?”

“Sure.”

Orion watched Dante’s hands as he filled two glasses. Long fingers, steady grip, but there was something in the way he held himself, like he was working very hard to maintain that corporate facade.

What happens when it slips?

The thought should have been purely tactical—understanding an opponent’s weaknesses. Instead, it sent an unwelcome thrill through him that had nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with the part of his biology that was interested in finding out what this particular Alpha looked like when he stopped being controlled.

Stop it. Focus.

“Your apartment,” Orion said, accepting the glass and using the conversation to distract himself from increasingly dangerous thoughts. “It’s... sparse.”

“Corporate housing. Temporary assignment.” Dante leaned against the counter, and the casual pose somehow made him lookmore dangerous rather than less. “I don’t accumulate things I can’t carry.”

“Planning to leave soon?”

“Planning to be prepared for rapid departure if necessary.”