The Sterling Acquisition : A Steamy MM Alpha/Omega Corporate Dystopia Romance (Manufactured Mates Book 1), page 15
Translation: failure to deliver would have consequences that extended far beyond a poor performance review. Dante had seen what happened to operatives who disappointed the Board. They didn’t get demoted; they disappeared into “retraining” and emerged as different people.
“I understand the parameters,” Dante said.
“Wonderful! I knew you would.” The artificial uplift at the end of her sentences—a classic Gensyn manipulation technique, designed to make even execution orders sound like exciting opportunities. “Oh, and Dante? The timeline for extraction is within the next seventy-two hours.”
Seventy-two hours. Three days to steal Project Tether, extract Orion, and deliver them both to Gensyn for analysis.
“That’s an aggressive schedule.” His stomach clenched at the implications, acid rising in his throat.
“The Board feels that waiting longer could compromise the opportunity. There are concerns about SVI accelerating their timeline.” Amalie’s tone remained light, but the implication was clear. “We wouldn’t want all your hard work to be rendered obsolete by competitor priorities.”
“Understood.”
“Excellent. I do so enjoy working with professionals who understand priorities.” The line went quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, she sounded short of breath. “Dante? Do take care of yourself. The Board values your contributions, but they value results more.”
The call ended, leaving Dante staring at his phone in the gathering darkness of an SVI parking lot. His reflection in the car window looked wrong somehow—still composed, still controlled, but with something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Doubt. Conflict. A hairline fracture in twenty years of perfect compliance.
Seventy-two hours to accomplish what should have been a weeks-long operation.
Dante started the car and began driving toward the apartment, his mind racing through possibilities and contingencies. The suppressants would buy them time, but not much. The extraction would need to happen soon, possibly within the next day or two.
And after that...
The bio-monitor display on his wrist chirped a warning—elevated heart rate, increased stress hormones, breathing pattern disruptions. Signs of emotional compromise that would trigger automatic reporting if they continued much longer. Dante forced himself through the breathing exercises, the mental compartmentalization techniques that had been drilled into him since his earliest training.
It didn’t work as well as it should have. The image of Orion strapped to a Gensyn examination table kept intruding, disrupting the carefully constructed mental barriers.
By the time he reached the apartment complex, Dante outlined three potential extraction scenarios. None were perfect, all involved significant risk, but the 72-hour deadline left little room for elegant solutions.
The most straightforward approach would be to simply take Orion during their next consultation session—drug him if necessary, get him to a secure location, then proceed with the technology acquisition. But that created a complex transportation problem and left too many variables uncontrolled.
The second option involved coordinating both extractions simultaneously—stealing the technology while removing Orion in the resulting chaos. Higher risk but potentially more efficient.
The third option... the third option wasn’t an option at all. It involved completing only half the mission and facing the consequences from Gensyn. A career-ending move, possibly life-ending depending on how the Board interpreted the failure.
But it kept circling back in his thoughts nonetheless.
Leo answered the door with the kind of relieved smile that suggested his day had gone better than expected. Which probably meant Orion managed to maintain his compliance performance despite the biological chaos.
The suppressants might not even be necessary, but Dante handed over the small package anyway.
“What’s this?” Leo asked, examining the unmarked bottle.
“Specialized supplements. Sometimes biological disruption can interfere with behavioral modification.” Dante kept his tone professional. “These should help stabilize his system during the conditioning process.”
“Supplements.” Leo’s expression brightened, the childlike eagerness in his face a stark reminder of how out of his depth the man truly was. “That’s brilliant. I was worried the pre-heat symptoms might interfere with our progress, but if we can manage them medically...”
“One dose tonight, another in the morning if needed. Should provide several days of stability without compromising his impending heat.”
“Perfect. This is exactly what we needed.” Leo pocketed the bottle with obvious relief, his entire posture relaxing. “He’s been much better this evening—almost like his old manageable self. Your consultation methods are working better than I’d hoped.”
“Behavioral modification is rarely linear,” Dante replied. “The important thing is maintaining consistent progress toward the desired outcomes.”
“Absolutely. Dr. Morrison will be pleased to hear we’re back on track.” Leo’s confidence was returning, the stress lines around his eyes easing. “Your expertise has been invaluable, Dante. I can’t thank you enough.”
Invaluable expertise in making his expensive acquisition fall apart through the strategic application of competent hands. Leo really had no idea what was happening under his roof.
“Professional courtesy,” Dante said, already planning his next moves. “I’m glad we could find a solution that works for everyone involved.”
Everyone except Morrison, who would find his test subject chemically stabilized and therefore less optimal for his forced bonding experiment. But that was a problem for another day.
As he left Leo’s apartment, the weight of the suppressants now in Leo’s possession, Dante wondered if he’d just complicated things further. If the suppressants worked as intended, Orion would be clearheaded enough to make his own decisions again, which might include rejecting Dante’s extraction plan entirely.
And if they failed, or if Morrison moved faster than anticipated...
The image of Orion’s defiant eyes going vacant and adoring made something primal and possessive twist in Dante’s chest. Something that had nothing to do with professional asset management and everything to do with the growing certainty that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.
Chapter seventeen
Strategic Planning
Dante
The suppressants worked better than Dante had hoped. When Leo unlocked Orion’s door for their afternoon consultation, Dante found someone who looked almost normal again.
Almost.
Orion was sitting on the bed reading—actually reading, which was already a massive improvement—but the flush along his cheekbones remained, and his scent still carried that complex sweetness that made Dante’s control feel fragile.
Which meant Orion could think strategically while still looking like every Alpha fantasy come to life.
“How are you feeling today?” Dante asked, settling into the chair while Leo hovered anxiously in the doorway.
“Better.” Orion’s voice was steady, controlled, though his eyes flicked to Dante with something that might have been wariness. “More... focused.”
“Excellent. The supplements seem to be working as intended.” Dante glanced at Leo, who was practically glowing with relief. “I think we can proceed with more intensive psychological mapping today.”
“Of course, whatever you think is best. The progress has been remarkable—he asked to help with breakfast this morning.” Leo was already backing toward the door, eager to leave them to their work. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
The locks clicked shut, and tension filled the room despite Orion’s improved condition. The suppressants might have given him back his ability to think, but they’d done nothing to diminish the pheromonal cocktail that made Dante’s hands want to shake. The small room seemed to concentrate Orion’s scent, the stale recycled air carrying it to Dante with each breath he took.
“Books,” Dante said, noting the small stack beside the bed. “Feeling more like yourself?”
“Enough to plan an escape that doesn’t involve me drooling on myself, yes.” Orion’s tone was dry, but there was a playfulness there he hadn’t heard before. “The suppressants help, but they’re not a cure. I’ve never had much luck with suppressants in the past.”
“How long do we have?”
“Hard to say. Maybe a few days before they stop being effective.” Orion set down his book—something about pre-Adjustment history that he’d probably found in Leo’s collection. “Long enough to get out of here, assuming you have a plan beyond corporate espionage and inappropriate touching.”
I could go for some more of that inappropriate touching right now.
“I have a plan,” Dante said, pulling out a tablet. “Seventy-two hours to extract both you and the Project Tether research before my corporate oversight decides to take a more direct approach.”
“Seventy-two hours.” Orion’s expression sharpened, the strategic mind that made him so compelling finally back online. “What changed?”
“Gensyn analyzed the intelligence I sent them. They want everything—the complete research, the technology, and...” Dante paused, choosing his words carefully. “Any relevant test subjects for analysis.”
Orion’s face went very still as he processed what that meant. “They want to study me.”
“They want to understand how Project Tether works. You’re the designated test subject, which makes you valuable for research purposes.” Dante kept his voice neutral, professional, though Orion’s expression made him want to melt. “My original mission parameters included asset acquisition if feasible.”
“Asset acquisition.” Orion’s laugh was bitter. “So I go from being Leo’s pet to being Gensyn’s lab rat. How is that an improvement?”
Dante met his gaze. “Because I’m not delivering you to Gensyn.”
The words were loaded with implications that Dante was still processing for himself. Orion just stared at him, clearly trying to determine whether this was manipulation or genuine intent.
“Then what’s your plan?”
“Extract you first, separately from the technology. Get you somewhere safe while I complete the research acquisition.” Dante pulled up building schematics. “Then figure out how to explain to my corporate oversight why their designated test subject was unavailable for delivery.”
“That sounds like career suicide.”
“Probably. But watching you get turned into a chemical puppet isn’t acceptable.”
“Why?” Orion’s voice was quiet, intense. “Why does it matter to you what happens to me?”
That was the question Dante had been avoiding. Because the honest answer was complicated, selfish, and not what Orion needed to hear. “Because you’re magnificent when you fight,” he said. “And I want to be the only one who gets to see that part of you.”
Orion’s breath caught. “That’s...”
“Possessive? Selfish? Inappropriate?” Dante leaned forward in the chair. “Yes. But it’s honest.”
“You want to own me.”
“I want to keep you.” The distinction mattered, though Dante wasn’t sure he could explain why. “There’s a difference.”
Orion was quiet for a moment, processing the implications. When he spoke again, there was a different kind of tension beneath his word. “Show me the plan.”
Dante pulled up the facility schematics, grateful for the shift to practical matters even as part of him remained hyperfocused on the way Orion’s flush deepened as he leaned closer to look at the screen.
“The research is kept in Morrison’s private lab, here.” He indicated the secure section he visited with Duckie. “Biometric locks requiring both retinal scan and hand geometry—typical SVI excess, putting their faith in technology rather than human reliability. I have someone on the inside getting me administrative building override codes, the kind that get used in case of a fire or natural disaster. Security patrols every two hours, but they’re understaffed and predictable.”
“And me?”
“You’re the easier extraction. Leo gave me a key for our sessions, he has a predictable schedule, and the building has minimal security.” Dante traced possible routes on the screen. “The challenge is timing both operations without raising alarms.”
Orion studied the schematics, his brow furrowed as his mind worked through possibilities. The tablet’s blue light highlighted the angles of his face, casting his features in sharp relief against the harsh light of the room. “What about transportation out of SVI territory?”
“Covert local source, we’ll pay him well to sneak us out as regular cargo to the Neutral Zone.” Dante had spent hours working out the logistics.
“And you’re assuming I’ll go along with your alternative captivity arrangement.”
“I’m hoping you’ll prefer it to the available alternatives.” Dante met his eyes. “But ultimately, the choice is yours.”
They worked through the details for the next hour—entry points, timing, contingencies, communication protocols. Orion’s questions were sharp, intelligent, and focused on practical rather than emotional considerations. It was impressive to watch his mind work.
It was also incredibly arousing, which was becoming a problem.
“The window for the lab extraction is narrow,” Orion said, tracing patrol routes with his finger. “Fifteen minutes between security sweeps on this level, maximum.” A fine sheen of sweat began to form along his hairline, his earlier composure gradually yielding to biology despite the suppressants.
“More than enough time for someone who knows what they’re doing.” Dante was watching Orion’s profile, noting the way his pupils were dilating incrementally, the amber irises shrinking as the black expanded. Every time Orion shifted position, a fresh wave of his scent reached Dante.
“The question is whether you can maintain your compliance performance until we’re ready to move.”
“I’ll manage.” But Orion’s words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, the movement drawing Dante’s attention to the pulse point at his neck, visibly quickening beneath flushed skin. “How long until—”
He cut himself off as Dante reached over to brush a strand of hair away from his face, the casual touch making both of them freeze. The suppressants that had maintained their professional distance were failing, their effectiveness eroding with each passing minute of proximity.
“How long until what?” Dante asked, his hand still resting against Orion’s cheek.
“Until you stop pretending this is just about the mission.” Orion’s voice was barely above a whisper, but his eyes were blazing with challenge.
“I stopped pretending a while ago,” Dante replied, his thumb tracing the line of Orion’s jaw. “The question is whether you’re ready to admit you’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“Testing me. Pushing buttons to see what happens.” Dante’s voice dropped to something rougher. “Leaning close enough that I can smell how good you’d taste. Looking at me like you’re wondering what I’d do if you pushed just a little harder.”
Orion’s scent spiked, but his expression remained defiant. “Maybe I’m just trying to focus on escape plans.”
“Bullshit.” Dante’s grip tightened on his jaw. “You’re playing with fire because you want to see me burn.”
“And if I am?”
“Then you’re about to find out what happens when you succeed.”
“We should focus on the timeline,” Orion insisted, but he didn’t pull away.
“It’s very hard to focus when you keep looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re wondering what I taste like, too. Like you’re thinking about all those filthy things I whispered in your ear.” I’m going to need to ask that sketchy clinic for my money back. “Like you want me to pin you down and finish what we started yesterday.”
Orion’s breath caught. “You’re the one who can’t concentrate.”
“Because you’re making it impossible.” Dante could feel his own control starting to fray, his own suppressants, implants, and blockers no match for prolonged exposure to Orion’s pheromones. “Do you have any idea what you smell like right now? What you’re doing to me?”
“Tell me.”
The challenge in those two words was unmistakable. Orion wanted to see him lose control, wanted to push until something gave way.
“You smell like sex and defiance and everything I want to corrupt.” Dante’s other hand moved to Orion’s throat, not squeezing but just resting there. “You smell like you’re ready for me to spread you open and make you scream my name.”
Orion’s pulse jumped under his fingers, but his expression remained stubborn. “Big talk for someone who’s shaking.”
Dante looked down and realized Orion was right—his hands were trembling with the effort of restraint, the back of his neck glowed with heat up to his ears, and his pants had been at half-mast for at least ten minutes. “That’s your fault,” he said roughly.
“Bullshit.”
That was the final straw. Before Orion could react, Dante was moving, pinning him back against the bed with enough force to make him gasp. The position pressed them together from chest to hip, and Dante could feel Orion’s response—the sharp intake of breath, the way his body went pliant for just a moment before tensing again.
“Feel that?” Dante ground his hips forward, letting Orion feel how aroused he was. “That’s what you do to me. That’s what happens when you push.”
Orion’s eyes were wide, his breathing uneven. “I’ll bite your fucking nose off if you try something again.”
For a moment, Dante considered all the things he could do. All the ways he could make Orion fall apart, all the sounds he could draw from those lips, all the ways he could claim what they both knew he wanted.
