One week after that night.

The top floor of Wongthep Group shimmered beneath cold white lights, reflecting across the polished marble floor.
At the far end of the long meeting table sat a tall man, composed, unmoving.

Fluke Wichit Kittiwattanakul.

No longer a stranger in the company.

Personal assistant to CEO Joss Wayar.
Expressionless face. Even tone. Flawless manners.

So flawless, it bordered on lifeless.

And yet—
Joss couldn't shake the irritation that prickled under his skin whenever Fluke entered the room.

He didn't know why.

Something in the air—like a forgotten breeze brushing past old memory.
Subtle.
But impossible to dismiss.

This morning, Gawin's gaze remained cool as he flipped through briefing papers.

Joss, on the other hand, couldn't stop watching him.

That face...

That gaze...

Had someone once looked at him that way?

And that night—

The trembling breath.
The scent, like mist at midnight.
The touch that nearly drove him insane.

"A Beta?"
Joss muttered under his breath.

No. Impossible.

Since that night, Gawin had acted as if nothing had happened.

He walked into the building every day with the same calm presence.

White shirt, grey tie, crisp posture, a silver watch at his wrist.
Eyes steady.
Steps exact.

In the highest-floor boardroom, the atmosphere felt like lead.

Senior Alphas sat drenched in sweat, their instincts crushed beneath the weight of Joss's pheromones.

Amber and black pepper soaked the air like a silent threat.

Only one man sat unshaken.

Back straight.
Face unreadable.
Breathing even.

Fluke Wichit Kittiwattanakul.

Joss glanced sideways.

In the heavy fog of dominance,
a thin scent brushed past his senses—
Mint.

Cold. Precise.
Like a blade sliding beneath skin, painless—
but enough to chill the spine.

A Beta, he thought.

But nothing like any Beta he'd ever known.

Joss's office, that morning.

Gawin stood in front of the desk.
Folder in hand.
Didn't sit until invited.
Didn't speak without prompt.

Still. Controlled. Unreadable.

"Sit," Joss said, eyes dragging down his frame like they were searching for a crack.

He didn't flinch.
Didn't avert his eyes.
Didn't shift uneasily.

Different from every assistant that came before.

Joss began testing immediately.

"Today's schedule?"

"8 a.m. board meeting.
11 a.m., contract signing with Siam Bank.
1 p.m., meeting with the CFO."

Not a glance at the planner.

Perfect timing.
Precise tone.

Joss raised a brow.

"And if I asked you for a SWOT analysis of the Hansa deal, right now?"

"Fifteen minutes."

No hesitation.
No stalling.

Joss smirked.

This one was far from ordinary.

The boardroom on the 66th floor gleamed with polished blackwood floors and a glass table that reflected twelve anxious faces.

Joss sat at the head of the table.

Silent.

But his pheromones did the talking.

Amber and black pepper slid in like gun smoke.
Saturating every inch of the room.

Omegas couldn't look up.
Betas swallowed hard.
Even veteran Alphas held their breath.

A young director spoke—voice shaking.

Joss didn't reply.
Just tapped a finger against the glass.

A chill hint of whiskey leaked into the mix.

"How many times has this plan been revised?"

His voice was soft.
Even.

But it cut like a blade.

"You have fifteen minutes.
Bring me a better version.
Or don't come back."

Silence fell like a guillotine.

No one protested.
No one even breathed too loud.

Except one.

Three chairs down, a man turned another page.

Eyes down.
Lashes casting shadows.

No fear.
No performance.

Gawin.

Fluke.

He was always the exception.

Back in the office, Joss paced slowly.

This wasn't just suspicion.

Biology didn't lie.

Betas weren't affected by Alpha pheromones.
They didn't cancel out scent like Gawin did.

Golden Prison broke everyone.

But Fluke...

Fluke walked right through it.

Joss chuckled.

Interesting.

That evening, the top floor lights stayed on.

Only two people remained.

Gawin sat at his desk, flipping through files.
The glow of the desk lamp softened the line of his collarbone.

A faint scent of green tea lingered.

Not pheromones.
Artificial.

A mask.

Was he really a Beta?

Or just someone who knew how to disappear too well?

Suddenly, Gawin looked up.

For a split second,
fury flashed through his eyes—
quick as a blade.

But Joss caught it.

And a sliver of mint shimmered in the air.

Cold.
Sharp.
Winter wind blew through his chest.

That scent...
I've smelled it before.
But where?

In the days that followed,
Joss began tightening the game.

Last-minute schedule changes.
Urgent reports.
Hidden documents.

Whispers spread across the floor.
How long would the new assistant last?

But Gawin never broke.

No missed meetings.
No failed proposals.

He handled everything—
like clockwork.

Yet somehow—

He always seemed to be one step ahead.
As if he could read Joss's mind.

And most unsettling of all—
He never released any pheromones.

That alone was driving Joss insane.

Not because he doubted Gawin.

But because—

He was becoming addicted
to the feeling
of Gawin's presence.

One evening, the only sound in the office was the wind tapping the windows.

Joss stood.
Walked over to Gawin's desk.

"Have you considered becoming my lover?"

Gawin paused.

Just one heartbeat.

"Is the CEO joking?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Their eyes met.

The ceiling light painted Gawin's cheek in muted silver.
His lashes dropped.
Then rose again.

Cool. Direct.

"I thought I was hired to be your assistant."

"I don't recall any clause in the contract requiring me to sleep with you."

Joss laughed.

No refusal.
No acceptance.

Just that maddening in-between.
That look he wanted to destroy.

"I'm not forcing you."

"But I'm betting you want this too."

Gawin smiled faintly.
Picked up the file.

"I think we have more important things to discuss."

He disappeared behind the door.

Joss didn't get angry.

No.

He only felt more certain.

This was the one.

The only prey
who could make a predator like him
lose patience.

And this time—

He wouldn't stop halfway.