Chapter Text
the 5.30 pm rush hour at the Asoke intersection was less of a commute and more of an endurance test. outside the towering glass barrier of the Interchange Tower, lingered the thick humid Bangkok air, heavy with exhaust fumes of hundreds of cars and motorcycles trapped in the grid of Sukhumvit Road.
up on the executive floors, the chaos of the city was reduced to a silent grid of lights. but down in the ground floor cafe, hidden from the grand scale of the lobby, the tension there was real, heavy and waiting.
Mark tugged at the sleeve of his oversized, sand-colored blazer, his fingers digging into the thick, heavy cotton of his dark knit tee — for a second, his knuckles went completely white .the pleated trousers pooling just right over his designer Chelsea boots — every piece of his outfit was perfectly calculated and effortlessly put together. he had to.
as a Beta, Mark didn’t project the loud, territorial pheromones of an Alpha, nor the soft, submitting scent of an Omega. Betas in this world were quiet. his natural scent was quiet — just a clean hint of white tea and crisp, expensive paper, like an unopened notebook. but trying to make his way into a senior director position usually reserved for the firm’s elite Alphas changed the rules. he was in pure survival mode. his natural, quiet scent was buried deep, masked under heavy layers of expensive cologne.
he could still hear his parents’ voices echoing in his head, a reminder of their last dinner in Thonglor, voice dripping with that passive-aggressive high-society art form. “the board needs stability, Mark. an unattached Beta doesn’t project long-term commitment to our high-net-worth clients. look at your cousin, Phuwin. married, an Alpha, stable.”
transactional. everything in his life had a price tag, a contract, or an agenda. so, naturally, Mark had drawn up a solution the only way he knew how.
Junior sat across from him, completely unfazed by the heavy corporate air. even as an Alpha, he didn’t carry that loud, suffocating dominance that Mark usually hated in the upper management. Junior belonged to eKYC and Operations Compliance a few floors below — his world didn’t require all this exhausting corporate script. he just looked effortlessly cool in a well-fitted, brown striped knit polo — sleeves pushed back just enough to show his forearms — paired with relaxed dark trousers and clean white sneakers.
even in the crowded cafe, Junior’s scent felt like an anchor. it wasn’t the heavy, suffocating musk of the Alphas Mark constantly had to fight in the boardrooms. instead, Junior smelled like cold linen and black tea — like fresh sheet in a perfectly air-conditioned room. it was clean and soothing that Mark could feel himself starting to breathe again.
between them on the table lay a neatly printed three-page document.
“let me get this straight,” Junior said, his voice a low, calm sound that vibrated pleasantly in the quiet corner of the cafe. he tapped a finger against the paper, a faint hint of amusement in his eyes. “you want me to fake-date you for the next three months. we’re talking family dinners, the upcoming charity gala, and putting on a convincing performance to make your parents and the banking board believe we’re in love. am i missing anything?”
“think of it as a standard mutually beneficial deal,” Mark replied — voice smooth, polished, and detached. he leaned back, crossing his legs, forcing his body into a posture of effortless control to hide the erratic beat of his heart. “i know your department is restructuring next quarter. sign this, play the part, and consider the Senior Compliance Specialist position is yours. no interviews, no corporate red tape. my family has more than enough leverage on the board to make it happen overnight.”
Junior looked at he contract, then up at Mark. his dark eyes were observant, scanning the slight tension in Mark’s jaw, the sharp, defensive line of his chin. Mark’s expensive cologne was a good effort against Junior’s Alpha senses. his sense cut right through it, catching the faint, tightly guarded baseline of white tea and paper. and underneath that? there was a sharp, sour sting of anxiety. Mark looked like a man standing on a ledge, pretending he was enjoying the view.
“and what happens when the three months are over?” Junior asked quietly. “we just… break up?”
“we stage a clean, civilized separation due to ‘differing career paths,’” Mark said, waving a hand — make it sound businesslike. “it’s clean and simple. no fallout. it’s a business transaction, Junior. i need the image of stability, you need a career stability. it’s a win-win situation for us.”
Junior didn’t answer immediately. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, closing the distance between them. the subtle scent of cold linen shifted closer, reaching Mark’s hyper-aware senses. “you’re a Beta, Mark,” Junior said, his voice dropping to a low, private murmur. “if we’re going to make this look real to your family — especially if they are as traditional as you say — people are going to notice that i can’t properly scent-mark you. you won’t hold my pheromones the way an Omega does. they’re going to look for cracks in the performance.”
Mark’s expression hardened. “i am well aware of my secondary dynamic. thank you, Junior,” he said, his voice shifted to a chilly, sharp edge. “i’ve spent my entire career outperforming Alphas who think they rule the room because they were born Alphas. so, we will explain the lack of heavy scenting as a personal boundary. tell them, we prefer a modern, civilized approach. plus, it’s none of their business too.”
Junior watched him. the corner of his lips formed a small, unreadable smile. he wasn’t offended by the sharpness in Mark’s voice; if anything, it only confirmed what he’s suspected from the moment Mark cornered him. Mark was terrified. a cynical Beta fighting a losing war against an elite Alpha world, and he’s built his walls to protect himself — even if he was suffocating inside them.
“alright,” Junior said softly. he reached into the pouch sitting on the table, pulling out a black sleek black pen. “i’ll do it.”
Mark let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “with one condition,” Junior added, his voice steady.
Mark narrowed his eyes. “what is it? the promotion is already more than generous.”
“we fake the relationship, but we don’t lie about who we are,” Junior said, looking directly into Mark’s guarded eyes. his voice was steady, leaving no room for negotiation. “i refuse being a scripted prop. if we go to dinners, i talk like myself. if we hang out to make it look believable, we do thing we actually like. i agreed to help you, Mark, but i’m not an employee on your payroll. clear?”
Mark felt annoyed. he wasn’t used to people setting terms with him — especially not an Alpha. Junior’s quiet boundaries made him deeply uncomfortable. it felt entirely unpredictable, and in Mark’s highly calculated world, unpredictable meant threat.
“fine,” Mark snapped softly, pulling the paper toward himself as Junior signed his name in a clean, decisive script. “make sure you don’t embarrass me. my lifestyle requires a certain level of orderliness.”
Junior capped his pen, he remained entirely unfazed by Mark’s words. “don’t worry, Khun Mark. it’s my job at keeping things secure. and i’m very good at it.”
Mark took the signed document, sliding it safely into his designer leather tote bag. he stood up, smoothing down his unstructured blazer. he was suddenly desperate to leave — eager to retreat to the sterile, quiet comfort of his penthouse. he needed to get back to a space where the air didn’t smell like cold linen, and where everything was under his full control.
“i’ll text you the details for the first dinner,” Mark said, voice dropping back into that professional tone. “oh. this is business so, i don’t need that look in your eyes.”
Junior stayed seated, holding his iced americano, his dark eyes following Mark’s firm, elegant retreat toward the elevators. as Mark walked away, a faint trace of white tea and paper lingered in the air before being washed by the smell of roasted coffee beans.
“have a safe trip back, Mark,” Junior murmured, a quiet, patient smile on his face.
Junior watched the glass doors shut behind the man. Mark was undeniably a handful — cynical, and fiercely defensive. but as Junior gathered his tablet and headed toward the MRT to catch his train home to Thonburi, he couldn’t help but think that beneath all those layers, Mark was going to be entirely worth the trouble.