Page 8 of The Sterling Acquisition
Orion kept his expression neutral, but his mind was racing. This was new. Leo never let anyone else have unsupervised access to his “prize.”
“Orion,” the Alpha said, his voice carrying that same controlled precision from the courtyard. “I’m Dante Ashford. We should talk.”
“Should we?” Orion stayed where he was, studying this new player—expensive suit, perfect posture, hands that hadn’t done manual labor in their life. But he had broad shoulders that spoke of a regular workout regimen and punchably handsome face and gray eyes that still had a twinkle of joy in them, unlike most SVI citizens. “Let me guess. Leo admitted he’s in over his head and called in outside consultation?”
A slight smile played at the corners of Dante’s mouth. “Something like that.”
“And you’re the expert.”
“I have experience with challenging situations.”
Orion laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Challenging situations. Is that what we’re calling this?” He gestured around the room—the bolted-down furniture, the welded window, the scratches on the walls from a year of failed escape attempts. The room that felt smaller every day, its stale air heavy with the lingering scent of his anger and frustration. “What would you call it? Asset optimization? Resource management?”
“I call it wasteful,” Dante said simply.
That got Orion’s attention. “Wasteful?”
“Inefficient allocation of valuable resources. Poor strategic planning. Failure to adapt methodology when initial approaches prove unsuccessful.” Dante’s stunning gray eyes met his. “From a professional standpoint, it’s almost impressively incompetent.”
Despite himself, Orion felt his lips twitch into a smirk. “Professional standpoint. You suit types and your fucking euphemisms.”
“Fair point,” Dante acknowledged. “Let me be more direct. Leo’s methods are crude, counterproductive, and ultimately self-defeating. He’s created a conflict spiral that benefits no one.”
“And you think you can do better?”
“I think anyone could do better.”
The honesty caught Orion off guard. In his experience, Alphas—especially company Alphas—didn’t admit incompetence in others without claiming superiority for themselves. This one was different. More careful.
“So what’s your play?” Orion asked. “Good cop to Leo’s bad cop? Prove you’re the reasonable one, so I’ll roll over and show my belly?”
“I don’t have a play,” Dante said, and his tone made Orion believe him. “I asked Leo for time to observe and assess the situation. I just wasn’t entirely honest about my motivations.”
“No shit. What are your real motivations?”
Dante was quiet for a moment, and Orion could practically see him weighing his words. “Curiosity. You’re... not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Someone broken. Compliant. Defeated.” Dante’s gaze swept over him, taking inventory. “Someone who would have been ground down by a year of this.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“You’re not disappointing. You’re...” Dante paused, as if searching for the right word, “…fascinating.”
Orion felt a chill run down his spine.Fascinating. That was how suit types talked about interesting problems they wanted to solve. About challenges they wanted to overcome.
About things they wanted to own.
“Fascinating,” Orion repeated slowly. “So you’re here to figure out what makes me tick? Study the stubborn Omega who won’t break ?”
“I’m here because I wanted to have a conversation without Leo hovering over us like a nervous supervisor.”
“And what did you want to talk about?”
Dante approached further into the room, and Orion tensed. But the Alpha didn’t come at him directly. Instead, he examined the space with the same clinical attention he might give a crime scene, his movements deliberate and controlled. There was a predatory quality in the way he moved—not Leo’s clumsy aggression, but the fluid grace of someone who knew exactly how dangerous he was.
He was also, Orion noticed, positioning himself to cut off the most direct route to the door.
