The elevator ride is silent, all four of us too tired for conversation. I punch the button for the executive floor, where NovaDyne’s suite awaits. Adrian has always stayed in the company suite at conferences, while I take a standard room on a lower floor. Miles and Caleb would typically be in their own company accommodations entirely.
Yet when the elevator doors open, all four of us step out. No one comments on this deviation from protocol. No one needs to.
The suite door opens to reveal not just Adrian’s luggage but all of our bags, already delivered and arranged neatly in the spacious living area. My things sit beside Adrian’s in the bedroom. Caleb’s distinctive leather duffel rests on one of the sofas. Miles’s precisely packed suitcase stands by the desk.
The unspoken arrangement hangs in the air between us—two more nights of the summit, two more nights together, professional boundaries maintained in public but dissolved in private.
“I ordered dinner,” Miles says, breaking the silence. “Should arrive in twenty minutes.”
“Perfect timing,” I reply, kicking off my heels with a sigh of relief. “I need a shower and about three drinks.”
“I can help with both of those things,” Caleb offers, his playful grin returning now that we’re away from public eyes.
Adrian moves to the mini-bar, selecting a bottle of wine with his usual careful consideration. “We have early sessions tomorrow,” he reminds us, ever practical. “But tonight...”
He leaves the sentence unfinished, but we all hear what goes unsaid. Tonight, we continue whatever this is between us. Tomorrow, we return to our professional roles. And for now, that balance—precarious as it might be—feels like enough.
I accept the glass Adrian offers me, our fingers brushing in a touch that promises more. Caleb’s hand finds the small of my back, casual yet possessive. Miles watches us all with quiet satisfaction, his usual reserve softening in the privacy of our shared space.
The summit continues for two more days. Two more nights of this unexpected arrangement. Two more nights to explore whatever we’ve become together before reality demands decisions I’m not ready to make.
For now, I push those thoughts aside, savoring the weight of three Alpha gazes on me as I slip out of my professional shelland back into the woman they’ve come to know. The woman who wants them. All of them.
Together.
eighteen
. . .
Miles
The final sessionadjourns with polite applause, handshakes exchanged across tables like peace treaties. I scan the room, finding Elle immediately—her dark hair pulled back in that severe bun she favors for professional settings, her posture perfect as she collects Adrian’s materials with efficient grace. Across the room, Caleb catches my eye, a slight nod acknowledging what we both know: the summit succeeded beyond expectations, not just in business terms but in the unexpected alliance we’ve forged. Three rivals transformed into something else entirely, orbiting the same center. Her.
I sign the last of the partnership documents and slide them across to the representative from Titan Global, watching as he adds his signature to those already there—Adrian’s precise handwriting, Caleb’s flourishing scrawl, my own economical marks. What began as competing proposals has transformed into a collaborative venture that serves all our interests. Without discussing it explicitly, we’ve maneuvered our companies into complementary positions rather than adversarial ones. The irony isn’t lost on me: it took three Alphas sharing an Omega to learn how to share the market.
“Congratulations, Mr. Harrington,” the Titan rep says, offering his hand. “This initiative should secure the funding you need for your medical tech division.”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral despite the satisfaction coursing through me. “The joint approach made sense.” Understatement of the year. Adrian’s software infrastructure, Caleb’s distribution network, my financial backing—three pieces fitting together with unexpected precision. Just like our bodies did around Elle’s.
The summit’s final dinner is winding down, investors and executives mingling over brandy and desserts. I make my way to where Elle stands with Adrian, her professional mask firmly in place despite the subtle ways her body leans toward him. Only someone who’s seen her completely undone would notice the micro-expressions that flash across her face when he speaks close to her ear.
Someone like me.
“Miles,” she acknowledges as I approach, her voice carrying that particular note of warmth she reserves for the three of us now. “The Meridian funding came through.”
“I heard,” I reply, allowing myself to stand closer than I would have before the storm, before her heat, before everything changed. “Your presentation on regulatory compliance was persuasive.”
Adrian’s eyes meet mine over her head, a silent communication passing between us. We’ve already begun discussing a secondary initiative—lobbying for changes to Omega medication regulations. The storm that trapped us in that villa exposed a dangerous gap in health access. Elle’s situation wasn’t unique;Omegas throughout the business world face similar barriers to carrying their necessary medications across borders.
I find myself unusually invested in this cause, driven by the memory of Elle’s suffering before we helped her through her heat. The protective instinct that flared to life then hasn’t diminished. If anything, it’s grown stronger, more determined. I want to build systems that shield her—not because she needs my protection, but because she deserves to move through the world without arbitrary barriers.
“The regulatory panel tomorrow is just networking,” Elle says, checking her tablet. “Nothing essential on the agenda.”
“We could skip it,” Adrian suggests, his tone casual though his intent is anything but. “Take the morning to prepare for departure.”
I watch Elle’s reaction carefully, noting the slight quickening of her pulse at her throat, the barely perceptible dilation of her pupils. Despite her composed exterior, her body betrays her interest. I’ve become fluent in these subtle signs, cataloging each response with the same precision I bring to financial analysis.
“That seems sensible,” she agrees, her professional tone at odds with the heat in her eyes when they meet mine briefly.
