“You’re flushed,” Miles interrupts, his voice matter-of-fact. “Do you need a break?”
Three pairs of eyes lock on me with laser focus. I straighten my spine, refusing to show weakness.
“I’m fine,” I reply firmly. “The medical applications segment?—”
“Your blockers are failing,” Miles states, not a question but a fact. “The stress is accelerating your cycle.”
The room goes deadly silent. Adrian’s posture stiffens, his knuckles whitening against the tabletop. Caleb leans forward, all pretense of casualness evaporating.
“That’s not relevant to this meeting,” I say, ice in my voice despite the fire in my veins.
“It’s relevant to everything happening in this villa,” Miles counters. “Ignoring it doesn’t make it less true.”
Before I can respond, Caleb leans across the table, closing the distance between us. “How long?” he asks, voice dropped to an intimate murmur. “Until your heat hits fully. How long do we have to pretend this isn’t happening?”
“That’s enough,” Adrian snaps, half-rising from his chair.
“No, it’s not,” Caleb challenges, eyes still fixed on me. “We’re all adults here. Three Alphas, one Omega approaching heat. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. It just makes it more dangerous.”
Another pulse of heat washes through me, this one strong enough that I have to grip the edge of the table to steady myself. The room spins slightly, my body betraying me in the most fundamental way.
“Elle,” Adrian’s voice cuts through the fog, concern bleeding through his usual control. “What do you need? Tell me what you need.”
“Space,” I manage, pushing back from the table. “I need space.”
I stand, perhaps too quickly. The room tilts, and suddenly Miles is beside me, his hand under my elbow, steadying me without drawing attention to my weakness. His touch is cool through my sleeve, an anchor against the storm building inside me.
“This meeting is adjourned,” he says quietly. “We’ll reconvene when everyone is more focused.”
“I don’t need coddling,” I insist, though my voice lacks conviction.
“No,” Miles agrees, “but you need time to adjust your blockers. And these two need to cool down.”
He guides me toward the door with subtle pressure. Adrian rises, concern etched into his perfect features.
“Elle—”
“I’ve got this,” I cut him off, needing to maintain at least the illusion of control. “I just need a moment.”
Caleb watches me with heated intensity, his casual mask completely dropped. “This isn’t just blocker failure,” he says, voice rough. “This is accelerated onset. The island’s isolation, three unmated Alphas in close quarters—your body’s responding to primitive triggers.”
“Very scientific analysis,” I snap, embarrassment fueling anger. “Next you’ll be offering to help me through it, I suppose? How altruistic.”
His smile is slow, predatory. “If you’re taking volunteers...”
Adrian actually growls, the sound so primal it raises the hair on my arms. “One more word, Rios, and I’ll throw you off the fucking balcony.”
“Keep it down,” Miles repeats, more forcefully this time. “All of you. This isn’t helping.”
I pull away from Miles’s steadying hand, needing to escape this room, these men, my own traitorous body. “I’m taking a break. When I return, I expect everyone to behave like the professionals they claim to be.”
I make it to the hallway before Caleb catches up to me, moving with the fluid grace that makes him so dangerous. He steps in front of me, not blocking my path completely but making it impossible to pass without acknowledging him.
“You don’t have to face this alone,” he says, voice dropped to a murmur that sends unwanted shivers across my skin. “Any of us would help you through it. All of us, if that’s what you wanted.”
The image his words conjure makes my knees weak, heat pooling low in my belly.
Three Alphas, focused entirely on me, on my pleasure, on satisfying the hunger that’s already building in my core. It’s the most primitive Omega fantasy, the one I’ve always been too professional to acknowledge, even to myself.
