Page 19 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter twelve

Calculated Risks

Orion

Orion heard Leo’s key at the apartment door and forced himself to stay seated on the bed instead of automatically tensing for a fight. The sound that had meant incoming harassment and humiliation for the past year now carried a different weight—calculation instead of dread.

Play the game, Dante said. Give Leo something he can view as progress.

The memory of Dante’s hands on him, of being pinned against the wall and falling apart despite every instinct screaming at him to resist, sent heat crawling up his neck.

Hours later, he could still feel the phantom pressure of that thigh between his legs, still hear the rough promise in Dante’s voice when he whispered about taking his virginity.

Fuck . He was getting hard again just thinking about it, and Leo was about to walk through that door expecting to see a more manageable version of his expensive acquisition.

The apartment door opened, and Leo’s voice drifted through the walls with uncharacteristic lightness. “Orion? I’m home.”

Home. Like this was some domestic arrangement instead of a cage with better furniture.

When Leo unlocked his door, Orion looked up from the bed and managed something that might have passed for a pleasant expression instead of his usual hostility.

“Evening,” he said simply.

Leo stopped in the doorway, startled by the lack of immediate confrontation. “Good evening. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. The pre-heat symptoms had calmed somewhat, leaving him clearheaded enough to think strategically for the first time in days.

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Leo stepped into the room, his usual nervous energy tempered by cautious optimism.

The scent of antiseptic clung to his clothes—the standard-issue SVI laboratory disinfectant that always left a chemical aftertaste in the air.

“Dante said you two had a very productive session.”

Productive. Right. “He’s... knowledgeable about behavioral patterns.”

“Yes, he is. I’m hoping we can continue building on that progress.” Leo hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. “I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with something.”

Orion kept his expression neutral despite the alarm bells going off in his head. “Help with what?”

“Well, the apartment’s a bit of a mess, and I’ve been so focused on work lately that I haven’t had time to clean.” Leo’s tone was casual, but Orion could see the test in his eyes. “I thought maybe we could tackle it together. Like... partners.”

Partners . The word made Orion’s skin crawl. But Dante had been clear—give Leo something he could report as progress.

This was also an opportunity, Orion realized. Access to more of the apartment meant access to potential resources, information, and maybe even communication devices. Leo’s carelessness might reveal something useful for escape planning.

“Alright,” Orion said, surprising them both.

Leo’s face lit up. “Really? That’s... that’s fantastic. Thank you.”

An hour later, Orion stood in front of Leo’s kitchen sink, mechanically washing dishes while Leo dried them beside him. The domestic normalcy of it was surreal—like playing house with his captor, pretending this was a relationship instead of ownership.

The kitchen revealed Leo’s chaotic personal habits—expired food pushed to the back of the refrigerator, half-finished coffee mugs scattered on countertops, discarded corporate memos containing fragments of potentially useful information.

Orion had been methodically scanning each document as he cleaned, memorizing lab schedules, security rotations, and names of key personnel.

Dr. Morrison’s name appeared frequently, always in connection with the specialized intervention department that Dante warned about.

“You’re very efficient at this,” Leo commented, accepting a clean plate from Orion’s hands. “Very thorough.”

“My father believed in pulling your own weight,” Orion replied automatically, then regretted the personal revelation.

“He sounds like a wise man. What did he do for work?”

The question hit unexpectedly, and Orion had to force himself not to stiffen. “Research. His department was liquidated.”

“Ah.” Leo’s tone carried understanding .

They worked in relative silence after that. There was something almost pathetic about Leo’s obvious pleasure in this mundane task—like he’d been so starved for normal human interaction he was willing to settle for the illusion of it.

“There,” Leo said as they finished the last of the dishes. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” Orion admitted, because it hadn’t been. Awful in its implications, yes, but not actively terrible. “It was... fine.”

“I’m so glad you think so. I’ve always believed that cooperation makes everything easier for everyone involved.”

Cooperation . Another euphemism for submission, but delivered with such earnest conviction that Orion almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Later, they ended up on the couch together—Leo’s suggestion, presented as casually as everything else tonight.

The movie was some pre-Adjustment action comedy that Leo found amusing, though Orion spent most of it analyzing escape routes and wondering how much longer he’d have to maintain this charade.

The living room offered new insights—a carelessly discarded SVI security badge on the side table, a glimpse of Leo’s work schedule pinned to a bulletin board, and most valuably, an unattended tablet charging on the kitchen counter.

If he could access that device, even briefly, it might provide crucial information about Project Tether’s timeline or security protocols.

Halfway through, Leo shifted closer on the couch, and Orion had to consciously relax his muscles to avoid flinching away.

“This is nice,” Leo murmured, settling his arm around Orion’s shoulders with casual possessiveness. “Peaceful.”

The weight of Leo’s arm felt like a chain, the casual touch a reminder of exactly what Leo thought he owned. Orion focused on breathing steadily, on not letting his revulsion show, on the knowledge that enduring this was buying him time.

In his peripheral vision, he could see the tablet on the counter. Just fifteen feet away. Perhaps accessible if Leo fell asleep after his wine consumption. The thought kept him grounded through the unwelcome physical contact.

“Mhmm,” he managed, the sound neutral enough to be agreement.

Leo’s fingers traced absent patterns on his shoulder, and Orion had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from pulling away. The touch was gentle, but it carried all the presumption of intimacy that made his skin crawl.

This is what Leo wanted—a compliant pet who accepted casual affection without complaint. Someone who sat quietly while being touched, who didn’t fight or resist or remind him that this was all built on coercion.

The movie played on, but Orion barely saw it.

He was too busy cataloguing every point of contact, every assumption in Leo’s relaxed posture, every moment he had to suppress the urge to violence.

Simultaneously, he was mapping the apartment’s layout, noting the location of keys, devices, and potential weapons.

If Dante’s extraction plan failed, he would need alternatives.

Play the game , he reminded himself. Buy time. Survive long enough for better options to present themselves.

Even if those better options came in the form of a different corporate predator who at least wanted him intact.

Dante claimed he valued Orion’s defiance, but was that just another form of corporate doublespeak?

The man worked for Gensyn, after all—the corporation that perfected compliance through chemical control.

His interest in Orion’s resistance might be nothing more than scientific curiosity about a particularly stubborn specimen .

Still, unlike Leo, Dante had been honest about his intentions.

Crude and presumptuous, yes, but there had been no pretense of romance or partnership—just raw desire and mutual benefit.

It wasn’t trust that Orion felt toward the operative, but rather a calculated assessment of aligned interests. For now.

By the time the credits rolled, Leo worked his way through most of a bottle of wine—apparently celebrating what he saw as a breakthrough in their relationship. His arm was still around Orion’s shoulders, heavier now, and his inhibitions had lowered along with the wine level.

“This has been wonderful,” Leo said, his words slurred. “Really wonderful. I knew Dante’s methods would help, but I didn’t expect such rapid improvement.”

Because sitting through a movie without violence constituted a personality transformation, apparently.

“I’m glad you’re pleased,” Orion said.

“Pleased?” Leo laughed, the sound warm and breathless. “I’m more than pleased. I’m... hopeful. For the first time in months, I’m hopeful about us.”

Us . The word was loaded with nauseating expectations. The apartment felt smaller, the walls closing in with their industrial beige paint and mass-produced SVI motivational posters. The entire space reeked of corporate sterility, barely masked by Leo’s desperate attempts at creating a home.

Leo shifted on the couch, turning to face him more, and Orion saw the intent in his eyes before he moved. The hand on his shoulder slid to cup his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone with clumsy tenderness.

“Orion,” Leo whispered, leaning closer. “I know this has been difficult, but I really think we could have something special if you’d just—”

“Leo.” Orion caught his wrist gently, stopping the advance without violence. “I appreciate the evening we’ve had, but I’m not ready for... more than this. Not yet.”

The words came out steadier than he expected. Leo blinked, surprised by the lack of hostility in the refusal.

“Oh. I... of course. I didn’t mean to presume.” Leo pulled back, but his expression was more relieved than hurt. “I just thought, after today’s progress...”

“Today was good,” Orion said, surprised to find he almost meant it. Not because he enjoyed any of it, but because he proved to himself that he could play this game when survival depended on it. “But I need time to adjust to... all of this.”

“Time. Yes, of course you do.” Leo’s smile was soft, grateful even. “I’m just so relieved that you didn’t... that you weren’t angry with me for asking.”

Because Leo’s expectation had been violence, scratching, and biting—the kind of response Orion had been giving him for months. The fact that he managed a gentle refusal instead was cause for celebration.

“I’m trying to approach things differently,” Orion said, which was true enough.

“I can see that. And I’m grateful for the effort.” Leo stood from the couch, swaying. “I should let you get some rest. Tomorrow you have another session with Dante, and I’m very interested to see how that goes.”

Another session with Dante. The thought sent an unwelcome spike of anticipation through him, followed by self-disgust. He was supposed to be focused on survival, not on the memory of competent hands and filthy promises.

Yet he couldn’t deny the tactical value of these “sessions.” Every moment with Dante was another opportunity to gather intelligence, to solidify their temporary alliance, to prepare for what would come next.

“Good night, Leo,” he said.

“Good night, Orion. Sleep well.”

Leo disappeared into his room, and Orion was alone with his thoughts, left alone in the main apartment for the first time in months.

He’d proven he could play the compliant pet when necessary. Could endure casual affection and domestic expectations without losing his mind. Could even manage gentle refusals instead of violence when Leo overstepped.

But every moment of it had been a lie, a calculated performance designed to buy him time. And the clock was still ticking toward whatever timeline Leo had been hinting at, whatever “new approaches” were being developed to ensure his compliance became permanent.

Three days, maybe four, before his window for escape closed. Before, Project Tether would be used to chemically alter his mind, to make him believe he wanted to be owned. To turn his rebellion into gratitude and his independence into willing submission.

Tomorrow, he would learn more about Dante’s plan while continuing to develop his own contingencies. He would appear compliant while gathering intelligence and preparing for violence.

Because he’d rather die fighting than live as the grateful, compliant pet Leo was so eager to create. And if Dante proved as untrustworthy as every other corporate operative, Orion would be ready to handle that, too.