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“And you think that was about you?” she fires back, like I’ve personally insulted her uterus.

“I think,” I say calmly, “you had a tantrum. And instead of waiting like a good little omega, you let them bond you like a heat-drunk amateur in a high school gym storage closet.”

Her scent spikes.

She’s furious.

Good.

“Not everything is about you,” she snaps.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, stepping even closer. “It’s always been about me.”

She sneers. “You’re such an ass.”

“And yet,” I say, gaze dropping to her lips, “you begged for it through a steel door.”

“If I wanted your attention,” she says, taking a step forward, “I’d know how to get it.”

“Big words,” I murmur, letting my voice drop. “Especially for someone who couldn’t get my name out between moans.”

She tilts her head, all sugar and threat. “Maybe I just wanted it in my mouth.”

My jaw flexes.

That’s it. The last thread of control? Vaporized.

I’ve got a hundred years of family reputation and forty-seven pages of corporate bylaws telling me to walk away - and I would. I swear to god, I would.

If she weren’t so goddamn perfect when she’s angry.

“You think you could handle that?” I ask softly, stepping in until she’s nearly touching my chest. “You think you could kneel and take my cock like it wouldn’t wreck you for every other man in the room?”

“I’d do it just to shut you up,” she hisses. “Unless your voice is vibrating between my thighs, I don’t care what it has to say.”

I blink once.

“Feisty,” I murmur. “What happened to the sweet little omega begging through the door?”

“She was vulnerable. Hopeful.Optimistic,” she snaps. “Before the alpha she wanted decided to ghost her like a cold-calling recruiter.”

My jaw tightens. “I didn’t ghost you.”

“Oh no?” she says. “What would you call standing on the other side of the door, listening while I fell apart?”

“I call it control.”

“Well,congratu-fucking-lations,” she says, trembling. “You’ve got all the control in the world, and not a single goddamn claim.”

And there it is. The truth.

Buried under her temper, under mine.

She's still reaching. Still calling to the one alpha who hasn’t touched her yet.

“You’ve been trying to provoke me for days,” I say coolly. “Strutting around in my shirt. Letting them scent you. Luring me here like some heat-drunk little siren who doesn’t understand what she’s calling to.”

“Idounderstand,” she snaps.

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