Page 58 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter forty-two

Domestic Interludes

Dante

Watching Orion discover the ancient DVD player was proving to be more entertaining than any of the media scattered throughout the cardboard box could have been.

The man approached decades-old technology with the same focused intensity he’d once reserved for calculated acts of defiance, as if understanding the basic mechanics of disc insertion was a matter of tactical importance.

“What about this one?” Orion asked, holding up a case featuring two people photographed through what appeared to be a soft-focus lens and an alarming amount of optimism.

“Corporate propaganda designed to convince people that relationships involve witty banter instead of biological imperatives and power negotiations,” Dante replied, not looking up from his methodical weapons check.

Each piece got the same attention to detail—field-stripped, cleaned, reassembled with the kind of precision that had kept him alive through more missions than he cared to count.

“Sounds terrible,” Orion said, setting it aside. “What about this one?” He held up another case, this one featuring explosions and men in suits looking aggressively serious.

“Action movie. Probably involves a lot of shooting and minimal character development. Perfect background noise for tactical planning.”

“Do you actually like anything,” Orion asked, “or do you evaluate all entertainment based on its practical applications?”

Dante paused in reassembling his sidearm, considering the question.

“I like plenty of things. I like competence. I like precision.” He looked up to find Orion examining the DVD player’s various buttons with scientific fascination.

“I like watching you figure out that ancient technology like it’s the most compelling puzzle you’ve ever encountered. ”

Orion glanced up, momentary surprise flickering across his features before being quickly masked. The bite mark on Dante’s neck tingled faintly, a sensation he’d been trying to ignore since they arrived at the safe house.

“Well,” Orion said, selecting what appeared to be some kind of adventure story involving a man with a whip and a fedora, “since you have no artistic taste, I’m making an executive decision.”

Dante found himself amused by the declaration. “Executive decision. I wasn’t aware we established a corporate hierarchy in our little fugitive operation.”

“We haven’t. That’s why it’s a unilateral decision based on superior judgment.” Orion fed the disc into the machine with the satisfaction of someone mastering new technology. “Besides, you said you’d show me how this works, not that you’d maintain editorial control over our entertainment choices.”

“Fair point.” Dante finished with the weapons and joined him on the questionable green couch, which protested their combined weight but managed structural integrity. “Though I reserve the right to provide commentary on any unrealistic action sequences.”

“Of course you do.”

The movie started with dramatic orchestral music and the kind of sweeping title sequence that suggested entertainment had once been designed as an event rather than corporate-mandated productivity downtime.

Dante watched Orion’s reactions more than the screen—the way his eyes lit up during chase scenes, the soft sound of amusement he made when the protagonist did something ridiculous.

“That’s not how archaeology works,” Dante said during a scene involving the hero swinging across a chasm using his whip.

“Really? And here I thought all academic research involved deadly booby traps and snake-filled chambers.”

“The snake-filled chambers are a reasonable occupational hazard. It’s the booby traps that are historically inaccurate.” Dante paused, considering.

Orion looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “Please tell me you’re not speaking from personal experience about the archaeological expeditions.”

“Gensyn’s Employee Enrichment Program included ‘Cultural Awareness Through Historical Site Exploration’.”

“Corporate archaeological expeditions?”

“Corporate-sponsored cultural immersion experiences,” Dante corrected. “The fact that artifacts found their way into private collections was coincidental.”

“Corporate tomb raiding. ”

“Corporate cultural preservation with mutually beneficial outcomes for all stakeholders.”

Orion started laughing, the sound bright and unguarded in a way that made Dante feel warm and fuzzy. “That might be the most ridiculous euphemism I’ve ever heard, and I spent a year listening to Leo explain his ‘behavioral modification protocols.’”

“Corporate speak is an art form. The trick is making everything sound like it benefits humanity while obscuring the fact that someone’s getting fucked over.”

“Speaking of getting fucked over,” Orion said, then tensed as if he’d revealed more than he’d intended.

He shifted away on the couch, putting space between them even as his voice remained conversational.

“What’s the actual plan here? Because I’m enjoying this.

..” He gestured vaguely at the domestic scene around them, his jaw tightening.

“But we both know this isn’t a vacation. ”

Dante noticed the way Orion’s shoulders had tensed, the shift in his posture creating a careful distance between them.

The warmth that had been building in the room chilled several degrees.

Orion’s scent changed too, taking on that familiar sharp edge that indicated his defenses were back at full strength.

It should have been frustrating. Instead, Dante found it oddly reassuring. If Orion had suddenly become compliant overnight, it would have meant either that the man he’d been drawn to no longer existed, or that something was fundamentally wrong.

“Tomorrow,” Dante said, “we stage our deaths. Burn the van, make it look like we were either killed or kidnapped, then walk back to the rendezvous point after cutting out my remaining implants where Lilac will meet us.”

“And the catch? ”

“The catch is that we need to make it convincing enough that both SVI and Gensyn stop looking for us, while ensuring we don’t accidentally kill ourselves in the process.”

Orion absorbed this information while watching the movie’s protagonist survive what should have been a fatal encounter with a very large boulder. “So we’re faking our deaths in the middle of nowhere and hoping both corporations buy it.”

“That’s the optimistic interpretation. The pessimistic interpretation is that we’re about to commit arson and amateur surgery in a location that’s far enough from medical help that if something goes wrong, we’ll end up actually dead instead of just pretending.”

“And the realistic interpretation?”

“The realistic interpretation is that we’re about to find out if desperate people make better decisions or just more creative mistakes.”

Orion considered this as the credits rolled, his expression skeptical as he processed their conversation. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“Three weeks ago, the idea of faking my own death would have terrified me. Now it’s just Tuesday, and I’m sitting here planning arson with someone who I—” He stopped, his jaw working as if he’d been about to say something he wasn’t ready for. “This is insane. All of it.”

Dante studied Orion’s profile, noting the tension in his shoulders and the way his hands had curled into loose fists. “That’s either a sign that you’re adapting well to crises, or that we’ve both lost our capacity for rational threat assessment.”

“Definitely the second one.” Orion reached for the remote with more force than necessary, his movements sharp with restless energy. “Want to watch another one, or are you going to suggest something else? ”

The question came out as a challenge, loaded with the kind of confrontational edge that suggested Orion was looking for a fight—any fight—rather than deal with whatever emotions were threatening his carefully maintained control.

“Actually,” Dante said, his voice dropping to the register that made Orion’s pupils dilate, “I was thinking we might find a more interactive way to spend the evening.”

“Interactive,” Orion repeated. “That’s certainly one way to put it.”

“I have a gift for euphemism.”

Now there was something else underneath the tension—a recognition that whatever happened between them was no longer about survival or corporate obligations.

It was just about them.

“So,” Orion said, his voice laced with a sharp edge, “what did you have in mind for this ‘interactive’ evening?”

Orion was trying to push his buttons. “I was thinking we should find out what sex feels like when you’re not fighting the urge to run away.”

“Bold assumption,” Orion shot back, his amber eyes glinting with challenge. “What makes you think I’m not planning to run?”

“Because,” Dante said, reaching out with a measured slowness that gave Orion ample time to pull away, “you’re still here.”

For a heartbeat, Orion didn’t move—didn’t lean in, didn’t retreat. His lips parted, and his face flushed a deeper shade of red as a dreamy look came over his face. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Maybe you are.” Dante’s hand found the back of Orion’s neck, fingers brushing against the warm skin. He felt the subtle tremor that rippled through Orion before his muscles locked in resistance, a silent declaration of defiance .

“And you think I’m not going to fight you?” Orion’s voice was a low growl, his breath quickening even as he held himself rigid.

Dante’s lips curved into a predatory smirk. “I’m counting on it.” He closed the distance, capturing Orion’s mouth in a kiss that was more clash than caress. Orion met him with equal ferocity, his lips hard and demanding, turning the kiss into a battlefield.

When they broke apart, both panting, Orion’s face was a tumult of defiance and lust, his lips flushed and swollen. “Don’t think that means anything,” he snapped, though the conviction in his voice faltered, undercut by the raw need in his eyes.