The Sterling Acquisition : A Steamy MM Alpha/Omega Corporate Dystopia Romance (Manufactured Mates Book 1), page 10
Good. Let him think about it. Let him remember the difference between Leo’s fumbling brutality and someone who knows what they’re doing.
Dante moved through his morning routine with mechanical precision, though his reflection in the bathroom mirror showed evidence of their encounter. The bite mark on his arm was an angry red crescent, the imprint of Orion’s teeth still visible against his pale skin. He traced the edges with his fingertips, feeling the slight swelling and smiling to himself.
Most Omegas would have gone limp with gratitude after an orgasm like that. This one wanted to leave evidence of resistance even in surrender.
It was a perfect response. He’d given Dante what he wanted and then immediately reminded him that it didn’t make him owned. Yet.
The SVI phone Leo gave him for “emergency corporate exchange communications” buzzed against the nightstand—three short pulses that meant Leo was having another crisis and needed his Gensyn expertise to solve it. Dante almost ignored it on principle, but maintaining his cover required a certain level of availability.
And finding out what new disaster Leo had created for himself might be entertaining.
The message was typically Leo—rambling, panicked, heavy on corporate buzzwords:
Leo James
Need urgent consultation at facility. Dr. Morrison is accelerating timeline on vaccine oversight. Situation becoming critical. Your expertise invaluable. Please advise soonest.
Situation becoming critical. How wonderfully vague. Critical for whom?
But the timeline acceleration was concerning. Dante had been counting on weeks to extract both the technology and Orion. If Morrison was rushing the Project Tether trials, that window was collapsing rapidly.
Which means decisions need to be made. Soon.
Dante mentally mapped out his options, weighing risks against benefits with the precision that made him Gensyn’s top corporate espionage specialist. Duckie Chang could provide access to sublevel three, but Dante would need to move before fully understanding the security systems. Extracting the technology alone would be challenging enough; adding Orion to the equation multiplied the complexities exponentially.
An Omega in pre-heat could normally be hidden with suppressants, but even now Dante could still smell him through the thin walls. Apparently, an orgasm and suppressants couldn’t tamp down the chaotic pheromones of a 26-year-old unclaimed virgin. Then again, he highly doubted any commercial suppressant had been formulated with someone like Orion in mind.
Their escape route would need to avoid all biological scanning checkpoints. Transportation would require isolation chambers or experimental suppressants. And that assumed Orion would cooperate rather than fight every step of the way.
Logically, the mission should take priority. Extract the technology, destroy SVI’s research, and return to Gensyn with the prize they sent him to acquire.
But logic was becoming increasingly irrelevant where Orion was concerned.
He composed a reply that struck the right balance of professional concern and corporate cooperation:
Available for consultation this afternoon. Will require detailed briefing on timeline changes and resource allocation adjustments.
“Resource allocation adjustments.” Leo could interpret that as him needing to spend more time at the facility. What it actually meant was that Dante could find himself with more time alone with Orion, so he could convince the most interesting person he had ever met to come with him when he left.
Keep telling yourself this is about intellectual fascination instead of the fact that you want to own something that magnificent.
The truth was becoming harder to ignore. Yes, Orion was valuable for intelligence purposes—he knew SVI’s internal operations, understood the territory layout, and could probably even provide insights into corporate security protocols. But those were justifications for a decision Dante had already made on a much more primitive level.
He wanted Orion. Not just sexually, though last night confirmed that particular compatibility in spectacular fashion. But there was something about that brilliant, defiant mind that made the idea of leaving him behind unpalatable.
He’s not part of the mission. He’s a complication you can’t afford.
Except that wasn’t true anymore. Because if Morrison was accelerating the timeline on Project Tether, then Orion was about to become either a perfect intelligence asset or a chemically compliant shell of his former self.
And shells don’t bite back when you pin them against walls.
The facility was buzzing with the kind of controlled panic that came from compressed deadlines and executive pressure. Staff moved with purpose rather than their usual corporate shuffle, and Dante noted the increased security presence with professional interest.
Perfect environment for intelligence gathering. Nothing made people sloppy about information security quite like deadline stress.
Leo was waiting in the lobby, his usual desperate optimism had been replaced by something closer to barely contained hysteria.
“Dante, thank God you’re here. We’ve got efficiency problems with the vaccine production scaling, and Morrison’s breathing down my neck about resource allocation.” Leo’s voice carried the particular strain of someone whose career was hanging by a thread. “Plus there’s this whole situation with my... domestic arrangements... that’s affecting my productivity.”
Domestic arrangements. What a delicate way to describe having an Omega who treats his Alpha like a particularly annoying pest.
“That’s unfortunate timing,” Dante observed, letting appropriate concern color his voice. “Are the production issues technical or logistical?”
“Both. The scaling protocols aren’t working the way they’re supposed to, and there’s talk about transferring the whole program to a different department if we can’t show results.” Leo gestured toward the elevator with nervous energy.
As they entered the elevator, Leo’s demeanor shifted subtly. For a moment, the desperate middle manager disappeared. Leo pulled up molecular diagrams with unexpected precision, fingers moving through complex biochemical structures with genuine expertise.
“We’ve improved stability by 47%, but production yield drops exponentially at scale,” he explained, highlighting problem areas with sophisticated analysis that suggested his professional reputation wasn’t undeserved.
Legitimate talent buried beneath layers of personal incompetence.
The elevator made concerning grinding noises as it climbed, and Dante noticed Leo didn’t even flinch at the mechanical distress. Just another day in SVI territory, where equipment failures were treated as background noise rather than problems requiring solutions.
Much like Leo’s approach to everything else, really. Accept the dysfunction and hope it doesn’t get worse.
“Tell me about these resource allocation concerns,” Dante said as they emerged onto the research level.
“Corporate politics. There’s been some interest from other departments about whether our vaccine development is producing measurable results.” Leo made air quotes around the corporate speak. “Morrison’s convinced that if we don’t show concrete progress soon, the whole program gets transferred elsewhere.”
The research level was a maze of laboratories and production areas that managed to be both functional and somehow chaotic. Security cameras were positioned at irregular intervals, with obvious blind spots near emergency exits.
Most concerning from a security perspective: the complete absence of scent-monitoring systems that would be standard in any Gensyn facility. Here, anyone with a strong enough suppressant could potentially mask their designation, moving through restricted areas without triggering biological authentication protocols.
All useful intelligence about SVI’s operations, though nothing relevant to Project Tether. But every piece of information about their security vulnerabilities was potentially valuable.
“The main production lab is through here,” Leo said, leading him past a series of rooms with standard laboratory setups. “This is where we’re trying to scale the vaccine manufacturing processes you helped us optimize.”
Dante peered through the windows at the equipment and saw several inefficiencies that would make any Gensyn supervisor cringe. The workflow was disorganized, the quality control seemed minimal, and the staff looked like they were making things up as they went along.
No wonder they’re having scaling problems. This looks like a university lab project, not a corporate manufacturing operation.
“I can see some obvious bottlenecks,” he said diplomatically. “Very solvable with proper process optimization.”
“Really? That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Leo’s relief was palpable. “Morrison’s been pressuring me to show concrete improvements, and if the vaccine program fails, it reflects badly on my overall performance evaluation.”
Which presumably includes how well you manage your expensive Omega acquisition.
“I’m sure we can address the technical issues,” Dante said. “Though it sounds like there might be some broader workplace stress factors affecting your focus.”
“Exactly. That’s why I really need you to continue assisting with my domestic situation. If I could just get that under control, I’d be able to concentrate on the work problems. And last night, Orion didn’t say anything nasty or cruel to me. I think what you’re doing is working.”
“Really?” Dante practically had to scream at his face muscles to remain neutral instead of breaking into a smug smirk. They continued their walk through the wing, but Dante’s attention was split between the legitimate intelligence he was gathering and the growing awareness that Leo’s failures were cascading across multiple areas of his life.
All of which created opportunities. A man failing at everything would be desperate for any kind of success.
“I’d like to schedule another session for this afternoon,” Dante said as they concluded the tour. “Better domestic efficiency should improve your overall work performance.”
“Of course. Whatever you think is best.” Leo was already nodding eagerly, desperate for any expert opinion that might help him avoid complete professional failure. “Same protocols?”
“Same protocols. No need to take the day off, just meet me back at housing to let me in, and you are free to come back in to finish handling things here. And Leo?” Dante paused, projecting the kind of corporate sincerity that encouraged oversharing. “I appreciate your trust in me and the discretion. This kind of inter-corporate cooperation demonstrates the value of professional collaboration.”
Leo answered the door looking marginally more composed than he had that morning, though the improvement was purely cosmetic. The stress lines around his eyes suggested he spent his lunch hour calculating career survival odds.
“Dante. Perfect timing. He’s been... challenging today.”
Challenging. How wonderfully vague.
“In what way?”
“Difficult. More than usual. Everything’s an argument, every conversation becomes a confrontation.” Leo gestured helplessly toward the locked door. “Which is strange, because last night he was almost manageable. When I got back from the facility, he wasn’t actively trying to start fights. I thought maybe your intervention was taking effect.”
Oh, it took effect. Just not in the way you’re imagining.
“But today he’s returned to hostile behavior?”
“Worse than hostile. It’s like he’s specifically looking for ways to be difficult.” Leo ran his hands through his hair with the frazzled energy of someone whose last nerve had been thoroughly tested. “I don’t know if it’s pre-heat symptoms or if he’s somehow figured out about Morrison’s timeline, but something’s wrong.”
Something’s definitely right. He’s thinking about last night, probably fighting his body’s responses, and taking it out on the most convenient target.
“Psychological pressure can manifest as increased resistance,” Dante said, which was technically true. “Sometimes opposition indicates that the subject is processing complex emotional changes.”
“Is there anything we can do to manage it? Any way to... accelerate the conditioning without compromising effectiveness?”
Several ways. Most of them involving my hands and his complete surrender.
“I’ll assess his current state and determine what interventions might be appropriate,” Dante replied.
“He’ll look like he’s in heat, but he’s not. This is just really bad because of his resistance patterns, but he’s still reasonable, so you may be able to get through to him.” Leo’s voice carried desperate hope. “If there’s anything—anything at all—that might help speed up the process, I’m open to suggestions.”
Leo led him through the apartment with nervous energy, and when he unlocked Orion’s door, Dante immediately understood what he meant about challenging behavior.
Orion was sitting on his bed, shirtless and sweating despite the apartment’s climate control. His hair was damp, sticking to the back of his neck, and everything about his posture radiated hostility. The moment Leo and Dante appeared in the doorway, he turned his back to them with deliberate dismissal.
“Fuck off,” he said without looking over his shoulder. “Both of you. Just fuck off.”
No wonder Leo looked frazzled. By any other metrics, Orion appeared and smelled like an Omega in an intense heat that would break at least one Gensyn scent scrubber by proximity alone.
“See what I mean?” Leo whispered, clearly intimidated by the naked aggression radiating from the small room. “He’s been like this all morning. Won’t eat, won’t talk, just tells me to—well, you heard.”
When those amber eyes fixed on Dante over Orion’s shoulder, they carried none of yesterday’s conflicted curiosity. Only raw anger and something that looked like barely leashed violence.
This should be interesting.
“Good afternoon, Orion,” Dante said, keeping his voice professionally neutral. “How are you feeling today?”
“Like shit. Thanks for asking.” Orion’s voice was sharp. “Now get out.”
There’s the fight I was expecting.
“I understand biological changes can cause discomfort,” Dante replied smoothly. “Are you experiencing any specific symptoms we should be concerned about?”
Orion whipped around to face them, his expression livid. “Concerned? You want to know what I’m concerned about? I’m concerned about being locked in a fucking cage while you two discuss the best ways to break me like I’m not even here.”
The words came out harsh, almost snarling, and Dante could see the effort it was taking Orion to form coherent sentences through whatever his body was putting him through.
Leo shifted behind him. “See? Everything’s a confrontation. Everything’s an argument.”
“It’s a normal response to biological stress,” Dante said, which was true enough. “Sometimes physical discomfort manifests as increased hostility.”
“Hostility,” Orion repeated, his voice flat and mean. “Because being pissed off about being treated like property is just a malfunction, yeah? Get the fuck out. Leave me alone.”
The words carried just enough venom to be insulting, just enough edge to suggest he was looking for a fight with anyone stupid enough to give him one. Dante met his eyes and saw the war playing out there—fury and biology and something that looked suspiciously like misery.
“Physical changes often affect emotional regulation,” Dante said. “It’s not uncommon for subjects to experience mood fluctuations during transitional periods.”
“Subjects,” Orion spat. “Transitional periods. God, you people and your fucking corporate speak.”
Keep pushing. Let’s see how much fight you’ve got left in you when you’re moaning my name.
“I’ll take this from here. I think we can make some progress today,” Dante said, shifting to address Leo.
“Of course. Whatever you think is best.” Leo was already backing toward the door, eager to escape the hostility radiating from his expensive acquisition. “I’ll be at the facility. Call me if anything comes up.”
The door closed and the air felt charged with heat and anger and something that might have been desperation.
Now, let’s see what you really want to say to me.
Chapter eleven
Tactical Advantage
Dante
Dante felt something predatory building in his chest at the sight before him. Orion sat on the narrow bed, shirtless and flushed, radiating hostility like heat from a forge—and every instinct Dante possessed whispered that this was what he’d been hoping for.
More than that, he wanted to see what happened when all that magnificent fury had nowhere to go except into desperate need.
“Well,” Dante said, settling into the single chair with deliberate casualness. “That was quite a performance for Leo’s benefit.”
“Get the fuck out.”
Hearing Orion spit profanity with such vicious satisfaction was like watching someone shatter expensive crystal just because they could. He wanted to hear more of it, and he definitely wanted to see what other sounds he could force from that smart mouth—gasps, moans, maybe his name broken apart by pleasure.
“I don’t think so,” he said, settling into the chair with deliberate casualness that he knew would infuriate. “Leo’s paying for my expertise, and right now my expertise says you need immediate intervention.”
Orion was on his feet before Dante could blink, and he had to appreciate the dangerous grace of it—a year of vigilance taught the Omega to move like a weapon. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“No? You look like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin.” Dante let his gaze travel over Orion’s flushed chest, cataloguing the signs he’d been trained to recognize. Dilated pupils, rapid breathing, and the obvious arousal pressing against worn fabric. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you’re going to go into heat having never been properly fucked?”
