Cassidy
My phone buzzes against the blanket beside me. I frown, dragging my attention away from the contact sheet spread across my screen before reaching for it.
Harlan
Where are you?
I don’t want to wander the building locating you.
Oh, fuck.
My stomach immediately drops. What have I done?
I run through the day, trying to think about what I could have messed up for him. I wasn’t late. I haven’t missed any meetings. The campaign files are all up to date, and—
No, Cassidy, stop it.
I probably haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe he just wants to know where I’ve been because he has missed me.
The thought is so ridiculously hopeful that I almost laugh at myself.
We’ve barely had any time alone since this past weekend. Even at work, we’ve been surrounded by our colleagues. I’ve had time with my other three mates, but it’s been harder for Harlan.
Not that I’m complaining about the group time, since I love being with my pack together.
But, at least at work, it’d be nice to have Harlan to myself for a little while.
I type back quickly.
Cassidy
In my office.
Barely thirty seconds pass before there’s a knock against the open door, and I glance up automatically as it’s opened without waiting for me to call for them.
His scent reaches me before the door even clicks shut—warm brioche, honeyed citrus.
“There you are,” Harlan grumbles, closing the door behind him. My smile arrives immediately. I love when he pouts.
He’s still wearing the charcoal suit from our meeting earlier, although he’s long since abandoned the jacket, his shirt straining across his shoulders.
His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, skin dusted gold, veins standing out at his wrists. Long fingers tighten around the handles of his bags, the old leather briefcase looking almost small in his grasp.
His dark blonde hair is already beginning to escape whatever attempt he’d made to tame it this morning, the longer strands falling across his forehead in a way that somehow only makes him look more intimidating.
Or, let’s be honest, more attractive.
Definitely more attractive.
It’s only when I stop ogling my alpha that I realise he’s dressed for leaving. For one awful second, disappointment pinches at my chest, my smile faltering before I can stop it.
Oh.
He’s going home. Of course, he is. It’s already getting late, and he shouldn’t have to be here at this time.
I’m nowhere near finished, but it’s very sweet that he’s coming to say bye before he leaves.
I love him.
“I swear, the entire fucking universe is conspiring to keep me from you,” Harlan says with another grumble.
“I know,” I sigh dramatically, his mouth twitching.
He steps fully inside, hangs his coat on my coat rack, and places his briefcase next to my desk.
“I was wondering…”
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other before lifting the laptop bag slightly.
It’s such a tiny hesitation that most people would never notice it.
I do.
Harlan doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t dawdle. He just… does.
“Do you mind if I work in here with you?” he asks.
I blink in surprise. “What? You want to work in… here?”
I look around my office, mentally comparing it to his. His is larger, so much larger, and has so much more room. It’s got all of his physical notes, products, mood boards… it’s got everything he could need.
But he wants to work here, in my little box room?
“I’ve still got a pile of campaign approvals to get through, and I know it’s not the same as having actual time together, but at least we’re side by side,” he says. His shoulders lift in an almost dismissive gesture. “It also lets me hide from the annoying fucks who can’t respect a door.”
The ridiculous little flutter in my tummy becomes something much bigger, and I have to bite back my squeal of excitement.
“Yes, absolutely, yes,” I say eagerly. “I’ve missed you.”
He grins, bending down to brush a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll sit here out the way, but—”
“What?” I wrinkle my nose. “Don’t be silly. The desk is much better for you.”
He pauses, lifting a brow. “Cass—”
“No.” I wave him towards it. “You’re the one with spreadsheets and... alpha business. I’m already comfortable here, and I’m not going to lie, I rarely use my desk unless I have to.”
He laughs, one corner of his mouth lifting as he loosens another button at his cuffs. “Alpha business? What do you think I do?”
“At the moment, I’m pretty sure your day consists of shouting at everyone,” I offer.
He sighs and gives me a regretful nod. “I’m really sorry, luxury. I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you there.”
I quickly shake my head. “I didn’t mean that, and you’ve already apologised. Get comfortable. Take all the space you want.”
“What about you?”
I sink happily back amongst the blankets, wriggling until one pillow supports the curve of my lower back while another tucks beneath my elbow. My laptop settles comfortably across my thighs as the familiar cocoon wraps around me. “I’ve got my nest.”
His molten hazel eyes follow every unnecessary adjustment I make, the stern line of his mouth softening into something only the pack ever gets to see from him.
“Comfortable?”
“The comfiest.”
A low hum rumbles in his chest before he crosses the room, setting his things on my desk. Within moments, the office settles around us.
Evening moonlight spills through the narrow windows, catching the dust above the radiator.
Somewhere beyond my closed door, a phone rings before falling silent again, followed by distant laughter from another department.
Inside my office, though… it’s just us.
The rhythmic tapping of keyboards. The occasional scrape of paper. Harlan quietly humming beneath his breath whenever he concentrates.
His warm brioche and honeyed citrus scent slowly weaving itself through the strawberry cream and vanilla musk clinging to my blankets until neither fragrance feels complete without the other.
We’re not talking. Barely even acknowledging the other.
We’re just together. And, somehow, it feels every bit as intimate as if we were on a date.
It doesn’t take long before I disappear back into my own work. I do my best to ignore how reassuring it is simply having him here.
I’d forgotten just how much content we’d captured over the last few weeks. The new shoot last week was perfect, and now I’ve got hundreds of photographs to sort through. Dozens of behind-the-scenes clips, interviews, product shots, campaign imagery…
It’s enough to keep me busy until morning, if I’m not careful.
I make myself another little folder before clicking into the next album, the glow of my screen the brightest thing left in the office now.
“Oh, Persephone,” I murmur, unable to stop smiling at the photos of the gorgeous omega.
She’s beautiful.
Not just because she’s gorgeous, which she is, but because she looks... confident. So fucking confident.
The nervous omega I’d met only a week ago seems to vanish the second the camera finds her. It’s genuinely like she was made for this.
Her shoulders are back, her smile seems genuine, and she revels in the attention she’s shown from her partner.
I’m stupidly proud of her, and I know it’s silly. She’s clearly capable, but after our run-in… I was worried about her.
I tag more than a handful of her photographs before opening one of the promotional video clips to check through.
It starts innocently enough. The lighting is soft, the music slow, the two models moving naturally through the staged apartment set we’d built.
There’s a laugh from the woman. A lingering glance from the man as she moves towards him.
Their hands brush as they pass one another, and it’s such a little detail of their connection that hits so well.
I make a note to keep that take when it’s repurposed for social media content.
The next clip loads automatically, and I already know based on the lighting changes that this one is different.
The chemistry between the pair is incredible. I remember the brief for this one—romantic, luxurious, beautiful.
It absolutely fits, but there’s something about the way one model looks at the other that makes warmth creep up my neck as I watch them lean in to one another.
She’s pressed up against him, looking as if she’s made to be there. Their noses brush.
She smiles, and he leans in, brushing his lips to her jaw.
A shiver runs down my spine, my tummy fluttering.
I watch it to the end. Then, without really thinking about it, I press play again.
Just to check the timing. Strictly from a marketing perspective.
Obviously.
My cheeks heat at the pathetic lie I’m trying to tell myself.
I don’t know what it is about this little scene, but it’s so… arousing.
Fuck, I have problems.
They’re both gorgeous, but it’s not them I’m picturing when I watch this. It’s me with… well, any of my mates, really.
Having them hold me this way.
“Little omega.”
I jump so violently I nearly throw my laptop off my knees when I hear his dry drawl.
“Oh, shit!” I gasp, clutching my chest, my heart racing.
Harlan hasn’t moved from where he’s been sitting for... who knows how long. He’s sprawled back in my desk chair, tie long gone, one elbow braced against the arm, his attention no longer on the spreadsheet open across his screen.
Instead, he’s looking directly at me. Watching me with the kind of focus he normally reserves for work.
Oh, fuck.
One eyebrow lifts, his eyes darker than usual, gold catching the light from his screen.
One dark blond lock has fallen across his forehead, softening the intimidating look on his face. Heat floods my face.
How long has he been watching me?
I slam the space bar to stop the video, but when that doesn’t work, I shove my laptop closed and tuck it under a blanket.
“I wasn’t—” I start but stop, not knowing what to defend myself with.
My scent is perfuming with arousal, my underwear leaking with slick as I adjust myself.
Fuck.
He knows. He really, really knows.
“No?” His mouth curves into a smirk that immediately makes my blush deepen. “What weren’t you doing, little luxury?”
I bite my lip. “I was working.”
“Mhmm.”
“I was,” I say, leaning towards him, on the edge of my nest now. “I swear, I was working.”