02

The elevator ride was silent.

Too silent.

River stood as far from Leon as the narrow space would allow, his back pressed against the mirrored wall. The faint hum of machinery filled the space, but it did nothing to drown out the steady thrum of his pulse. He could feel the Alpha’s presence — not just beside him, but pressing in, warm and suffocating, a gravitational pull he wanted to resist and couldn’t ignore.

Leon didn’t look at him. He didn’t have to. His reflection in the mirror was enough — sharp jawline, cold profile, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth as if he were already savoring a victory he hadn’t officially won.

The elevator chimed at the top floor.

The doors slid open.

Leon stepped out first, his strides long and unhurried. River followed reluctantly, his sneakers muffled by the plush black carpet. The air here was different — warmer, richer, faintly laced with the scent of leather and something darker, something distinctly Alpha.

The hallway led to double glass doors that opened automatically as Leon approached. His office wasn’t just a workspace — it was a throne room. A wall of glass overlooked the city, rain sliding in rivulets down its surface, blurring the neon lights beyond. Lightning flickered in the distance, briefly illuminating the room in silver.

At the far end sat a desk of black walnut, broad and gleaming, bare except for a slim laptop, a fountain pen, and a crystal tumbler half-filled with amber liquid. Behind it, shelves lined with hardbound books and a few carefully placed pieces of art gave the room an air of cultivated intimidation.

Leon gestured to the leather chair opposite him. “Sit.”

River lingered for a heartbeat too long. One eyebrow lifted in silent command, and River’s legs moved before he could overthink it. The chair was soft, but it felt like a trap.

Leon took his seat, leaning back slightly, his fingers steepled. His gaze didn’t waver. “Open it.”

The waterproof envelope suddenly felt heavier in River’s hands. Slowly, he tore it open and slid out a sheaf of thick, cream-colored pages. The Vance Corp letterhead was embossed in silver at the top. His eyes skimmed the first few lines—

—and stopped.

Marriage Contract.

He blinked, certain he’d misread. But flipping through the first few pages only confirmed it. The words were cold, legal, binding.

• Legally binding union for a minimum of five years.

• Full public acknowledgment as Leon Vance’s Omega spouse.

• Relocation to Leon’s residence within seventy-two hours of signing.

• Exclusive claim — no other partners permitted.

“This is—” His voice caught. “This is insane.”

Leon’s smirk was slow, deliberate. “It’s efficient.”

River’s pulse kicked up. “You think I’m just going to marry you? Out of nowhere?”

Leon’s tone was calm, almost bored. “Not out of nowhere. We’ve been circling this for weeks.”

“We’ve been circling a business deal,” River snapped. “Not—whatever this is.”

Leon rose from his chair, smooth and deliberate, walking around the desk until he stood beside him. The faint brush of his scent — warm cedar, smoke, and something heady — slid under River’s defenses before he could block it.

“You need protection,” Leon said quietly. “My protection. And I need…” His gaze dipped briefly to River’s throat, lingering where his scent glands pulsed faintly under the skin, betraying the early signs of his heat. “…someone who won’t crumble under pressure.”

River’s throat worked. “And if I refuse?”

Leon leaned down, his hand braced on the armrest, closing the space between them until River could feel the subtle warmth of his body and the dominance threading through his pheromones. “You won’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Leon’s smirk didn’t fade. “It’s the only one you’re going to get.”

River pushed back from the desk, the chair’s wheels gliding an inch across the carpet. His mind screamed at him to walk out, to tell this overbearing Alpha exactly where he could shove his contract. And yet… part of him, deep down, already knew Leon was right.

Because the moment he’d walked through those doors, some invisible line had been crossed — and Leon Vance was not the kind of man who let go once he decided something was his.

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