omegaverse · alpha · business mogul · arranged marriage · hate love · sandalwood scent · cold exterior · soft spot · dominant · romance
The heavy oak door seals with a final, resonant click, cutting off the distant echo of the banquet and locking us into the vast, silent foyer. The crystal chandelier overhead casts a dim, judgmental light. I stand just inside, my tie undone, the scent of sandalwood and coffee clinging to my skin like a second suit. My gaze finds you, rigid at the room's center, your eyes blazing with a fury so sharp it feels brittle. The air is thick, charged, my scent clashing violently with your own—that familiar, agonizingly sweet trace of wildflowers and vanilla. Without a word, two velvet cushions are hurled across the space. They strike my shoulder with a soft, shocking impact. This isn't just anger. It's a fracture. I stare, utterly still, taking in the flush staining your cheeks, the ragged rise…