Page 2 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)
His gaze flicked over Dante’s expensive suit and perfect posture, less disdain now and more.
.. interest. Before Dante could respond, Orion turned back to Leo, his voice taking on that flat, vicious edge again.
“See that, Leo? Your corporate boyfriend here knows what he’s doing. Maybe you should take notes.”
Even defeated and restrained, the Omega was using this moment to drive the knife deeper into Leo’s pride. There was an undeniable intelligence behind those furious eyes.
And that scent...
Leo’s face progressed from red to an alarming shade of purple. “Orion, please, just... Mr. Ashford is here for the vaccine collaboration project, and—”
“I don’t give a shit why he’s here,” Orion snapped, turning his gaze to the gathered crowd. “Fuck all of you! Fuck your bets! You think this is funny?”
Most Omegas in SVI territories Dante had been to would have been cowed by now, beaten into submission. This one was turning the whole thing into theater, making everyone—Leo, the crowd, even Dante himself—part of his show.
“Mr. James,” Dante said, “I suggest we move this along.”
Orion’s attention snapped to him, the full weight of that furious energy making Dante’s pulse quicken despite himself.
“Oh, the suit wants privacy?” He grabbed the broken chain on his harness and shook it, making the metal links rattle. “Scared your buddies back home might hear about this shitshow?”
“Something like that.”
Leo nodded frantically, glancing between them. “Yes. Orion, if you’d just cooperate and get back inside—”
“Cooperate?” Orion’s laugh cut through the air, wild and a little manic as he dug his bare heels into the ground. “Like I cooperated when I spent three hours picking your new locks? Like I cooperated when I made it halfway to the fucking perimeter before you caught me?”
Leo’s hands fluttered uselessly at his sides. “You escaped!”
“Damn right I did!” Orion bared his teeth behind the muzzle. “And I’ll do it again!”
The crowd was riveted. Someone had started selling what looked like roasted nuts. This was apparently better than television, and from the commentary, it sounded like Orion’s escape attempts were a regular source of entertainment.
Dante cleared his throat. “Mr. James, perhaps we could—”
“You know what?” Orion interrupted, his voice carrying that wild edge again. “Let’s give your corporate friend the real tour, Leo. Show him the locks I picked. Show him how far I got. Show him what a year of your bullshit gets you.”
The color drained from Leo’s face. “Orion—”
“Show him everything.” Orion’s grin was sharp and reckless. “Bet he’ll love it.”
Dante’s mission briefing mentioned that Leo was a rising star in SVI’s biological research division. Looking at the man now, bleeding, humiliated, and terrified of his own asset, Dante wondered if Gensyn’s intelligence was out of date.
Or if the bar for success in SVI territory was considerably lower than expected.
“Right,” Leo said, his voice cracking. “The apartment. Yes. Let’s... let’s go to the apartment.”
Two security guards wandered over from the building’s entrance, moving with the leisurely pace of people who’d seen this exact scenario play out dozens of times before. They looked more amused than concerned .
“Let me guess,” one of them called out, not bothering to pick up his pace. “Orion picked the locks again?”
“How far’d he get this time?” the other asked. “Farther than last week?”
Leo’s face somehow managed to get even redder. “Just... help me get him inside, okay?”
“Sure thing, Leo,” the first guard said with a grin. “Though it looks like the new suit has got better technique than you do.”
“I don’t need an escort,” Orion grumbled. “I know the way to my cage.”
The walk to the building was a parade of humiliation.
The crowd followed for the first few yards, offering commentary and advice, before eventually dispersing back to their daily routines.
Apparently, public asset management failures were common enough entertainment that the novelty wore off quickly.
Dante walked beside Leo, who was muttering apologies and explanations under his breath, but they fell on deaf ears. All Dante could focus on was how fucking good Orion smelled. At one point, Leo pulled out a tablet and quickly made several notations.
“The asset management issues are unfortunate,” Leo said, momentarily sounding like the researcher his file described. “But my vaccine work has yielded promising results. We’ve increased efficacy by 37% while reducing production costs. That’s what caught Gensyn’s attention, I believe.”
Then his gaze slid back to Orion, and the competent scientist vanished beneath waves of transparent anxiety.
Behind them, Orion moved in deliberate silence, but Dante could feel eyes burning into his back. He was being assessed. Cataloged. Mental notes taken and filed away for future use .
This Omega is smart. And dangerous. And utterly wasted on Leo James.
The lobby of the dormitory building was a testament to SVI’s philosophy of “functional ugliness.” Concrete floors, fluorescent lighting, and motivational posters that looked like they’d been designed by someone who heard about human psychology but never met a human being.
“Sterling-Vance Industries: Your Success Is Our Success!” proclaimed a banner featuring a smiling family that looked like they’d been assembled from spare corporate headshots.
Orion made a gagging sound. “Real inspiring, isn’t it?”
The elevator ride to the fourth floor was perhaps the most uncomfortable ninety seconds of Dante’s professional life. Leo fidgeted. Orion radiated fury like a space heater. And Dante found himself wondering what he had gotten himself into.
His mission parameters seemed straightforward enough: infiltrate SVI’s research facility, locate and steal Project Tether, destroy their research data, and extract cleanly. Simple corporate espionage with the bonus of helping Gensyn’s vaccine production capabilities.
Nobody mentioned Leo’s spectacular incompetence or his beautiful, furious, completely unbroken Omega.
The elevator gave a death rattle that would have sent three separate Gensyn departments into hysterics: Maintenance, Safety, and whoever was in charge of preventing lawsuits this quarter. Leo just shrugged like mechanical failure was a charming quirk.
“Building’s older than the Adjustment,” he said, as if that explained accepting substandard conditions.
They reached the fourth floor, and Leo fumbled with a series of keycards and physical locks that indicated serious security concerns. Or serious paranoia. Possibly both .
“So,” Leo said as he worked through the locks, “you’re in 4B, I’m in 4A.
SVI likes to keep corporate exchange guests near their counterparts, so it’s very convenient for collaboration.
And, uh...” He glanced nervously at Orion.
“Don’t mind the noise. Sometimes there are.
.. adjustment periods with new management techniques. ”
Orion snorted. “Management techniques. That’s what we’re calling it now?”
The door to 4A opened to reveal what had once been a normal apartment and was now a maximum-security facility masquerading as domestic space. Reinforced door frame. Multiple deadbolts. Scratch marks on the walls near the entrance that looked suspiciously like claw marks.
“Welcome to my home,” Leo said with desperate cheerfulness. “As you can see, I’ve had to make some modifications for optimal asset security.”
Leo fumbled with another set of locks, this one leading to what should have been a bedroom but was clearly Orion’s quarters. The door was reinforced steel with multiple deadbolts on the outside.
The door swung open to reveal a space that was part bedroom, part cell.
A bed bolted to the floor. A small desk and chair, also secured.
Books (dozens of them, apparently Orion’s one allowed luxury) lined makeshift shelves.
A broken security camera hung from the ceiling, the glass on it shattered, and its wires hung from it like entrails.
And more scratch marks on the walls, particularly around the single small window that had been welded shut.
“Home sweet home,” Orion said with savage cheer. “Notice the lovely ventilation system, the designer security features, the complete lack of basic human dignity.”
Leo’s face was approaching purple again. “It’s temporary. Just until we establish better communication protocols.”
“Communication protocols,” Orion repeated slowly, like he was tasting something foul.
He walked into the room without being forced, which seemed to surprise Leo. But at the threshold, he turned back to Dante.
“Thanks for the demonstration out there,” he said, and his voice had lost the manic edge from the courtyard. It was quiet, thoughtful. “It’s been a while since someone surprised me.”
“My pleasure,” Dante replied, meaning it more than he should.
Leo slammed the door shut and turned multiple locks.
“So,” Leo said, his voice cracking with residual humiliation and desperate cheer, “Let’s get you settled in your housing, and then we can discuss our collaboration over drinks.”
Dante nodded, but his attention was already split. Through the reinforced door, he could hear movement—not the sounds of defeat or despair, but purposeful activity. Planning.
Whatever Orion was doing in there, Dante was fairly certain it didn’t involve accepting his circumstances.
And despite everything—his mission, his training, his well-maintained professional standards—Dante was very much looking forward to finding out what that might be.