Something shifts in his expression—concern? Awareness? Desire? I can’t tell, and that uncertainty sends a fresh wave of heat cascading down my spine.
“If you need anything,” he says carefully, “just tell me. This situation is unprecedented.”
“I’m handling it,” I reply, perhaps too quickly. “We should focus on the summit strategy.”
He studies me a moment longer, then nods once, sharp and decisive. “Let’s go.”
The boardroom is sleek and modern, walls of glass showcasing the storm-lashed beach beyond. A long table dominates the space, surrounded by leather chairs. Miles is already seated, tablet in front of him, expression unreadable. Caleb enters behind us, bringing with him a wave of spiced rum and honey scent that makes my stomach clench with unwanted awareness.
I take a seat on one side of the table, placing my materials precisely in front of me. Adrian sits at the head of the table, naturally assuming the power position. Miles remains where he is, opposite me. Caleb, instead of taking one of the many available chairs, perches on the arm of my chair, his thigh mere inches from my shoulder.
“Is this seat taken?” he asks innocently, though there’s nothing innocent about the way he’s leaning into my space, deliberate and provocative.
“There are plenty of actual chairs available,” I point out, shifting away slightly.
“But none with such a charming occupant,” he counters, voice dropping to a register that sends unwelcome shivers across my skin.
“Rios,” Adrian’s voice cuts through the room, sharp as a blade. “There are seven empty chairs. Use one.”
Caleb doesn’t move, just smiles lazily. “I’m comfortable here. Unless I’m making Elle uncomfortable?” He looks down at me, eyebrows raised in mock concern. “Am I bothering you, Elle?”
His scent intensifies, wrapping around me like a physical touch. My blockers struggle against it, chemical barriers eroding in the face of pure Alpha pheromones deliberately projected. He’s doing it on purpose, the bastard.
“Professional boundaries, remember?” I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds despite the heat building low in my abdomen. “Your own rules.”
“Mmm, rules,” he murmurs, leaning closer still. “So much more fun when broken, don’t you think?”
“Move,” Adrian says, the single word vibrating with Alpha command. “Now.”
The air in the room thickens, charged with territorial energy. Caleb’s smile remains fixed, but his eyes harden as he meets Adrian’s glare across the table. I’m caught between them, my biology responding to their posturing despite my best efforts to remain unaffected.
“Both of you, keep it down,” Miles interjects, not looking up from his tablet. “This display is counterproductive.”
Caleb holds Adrian’s stare for another beat, then shrugs and slides off the arm of my chair. “Just being friendly,” he says, moving to the chair directly across from me, next to Miles. “No need to get territorial, Cole.”
“This is a business meeting,” Adrian replies coldly. “Behave accordingly.”
I focus on my breathing, on the agenda in front of me, on anything except the storm of pheromones filling the room. My skin feels too tight, too sensitive.
The blockers Miles gave me are fighting a losing battle, and all three Alphas know it. I can see it in the way their attention keeps returning to me, in the subtle flaring of nostrils, in the tension crackling between them.
“Let’s begin,” I say, taking control of the situation before it derails further. “The summit has been rescheduled for next Tuesday. Our presentation slot is at 10 AM, followed by Synercom at 11:30 and Titan Global’s investor panel at 2 PM.”
Adrian nods, seemingly grateful for the return to business. “We need to adjust our approach given the competitive positioning.Elle has prepared a comparative analysis of our neural interface against likely counterproposals.”
I open my tablet, pulling up the relevant documents. As I lean forward to swipe to the next page, a fresh wave of heat pulses through me, sudden and intense. I freeze, heart hammering as I feel sweat beading at my hairline. This isn’t right. This isn’t the gradual progression I’m used to. This is something else.
“The neural interface offers three key advantages,” I continue, my voice only slightly strained. “First, response time is 32% faster than current market leaders. Second, user adaptation requires minimal training. Third, the neural pathway mapping is non-invasive, unlike competitors’ offerings.”
“Including Synercom’s,” Caleb adds, his eyes never leaving my face. “Though our quantum processor could reduce that response time gap significantly.”
“Theoretical applications,” Adrian dismisses. “Your processor isn’t compatible with neural interfaces yet.”
“Yet,” Caleb repeats, smile sharpening. “We’re closer than you think, Cole.”
I swipe to the next slide, acutely aware of how my blouse clings to my back, damp with sweat despite the room’s perfect temperature. The heat is building faster than it should, pulsing in waves that make my vision blur at the edges. Miles is watching me now, his cool assessment more concerning than Caleb’s obvious interest.
“The market positioning slides show potential overlaps,” I say, pushing through. “If we highlight the medical applications first?—”
