**Chapter 4** **Emmeline** I rolled over, the remnants of sleep clinging to me as mid-morning sunlight cascaded through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. The bright rays illuminated the skyline outside, painting a picture I was still too dazed to fully grasp. Drowning in the silkiness of the Egyptian cotton sheets, I pulled them closer, trying to drown myself in the intoxicating medley of spicy black pepper, sweet honey, and my own lavender scent—until reality jolted me awake. “Oh, fuck!” I propelled the blankets aside and shot up, heart racing. The room was a stranger to me—well, it was unfamiliar until my mind replayed the chaotic night I shared with my boss. Not once. Not twice. Apparently, four times. Each encounter, a vivid flash in my mind, left my body echoing with the memory of Uri's touch. Where was he now? My eyes swept the space, searching for clues, anything that could explain his absence. The sheets felt cold against my skin, yet his scent lingered like a ghost—tantalizing and recent. I bit my lip. How long had he been gone? A glass of water stood on his nightstand, conspicuously untouched. My fingers brushed the edge, and a wave of unease knotted in my stomach. He wouldn’t… no. He must have left. That was all I needed to conclude. My omega stirred within me, grieving his absence with a soft whine, while I fought to suppress the whirlpool of panic threatening to drown me. I couldn’t afford to unravel now. For the past five years, I had clawed my way up from a junior coordinator role to finally claiming a managerial position—a feat against all odds. I had rejected my father Marcus’s attempts to grease the wheels for me, pushing away his offers to pave a ‘respectable’ path in the administrative world. And here I sat, in my boss’s bedroom, dismantling the professional boundaries I had upheld for years in a singular, heat-fueled night. I felt like an utter embarrassment. Wiping tears from the corners of my eyes, I scanned the room. It was precisely what I had expected from Uri—minimalist yet luxurious, much like the man himself. Dark walnut furniture grounded the room, with sleek chrome accents catching the sunlight ever so perfectly. The white sheets—once crisp, now a battlefield—held the aftermath of our shared recklessness. My gaze landed on the wall of windows showcasing an enviable view, one I had watched shift in color as Uri… No, Emme, do not dwell there. I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing back the thoughts. Reality was strewn about the bedroom like a warzone—a stark reminder of the chaos we conjured together. I had hoped he would still be here, at least to afford us the pretense of professionalism. Instead, I was left alone with the disheveled sheets that still bore the marks of our mingled scents, a desperate longing to nest, and a heavy disappointment suffocating my chest. A voice echoed in the recesses of my mind—my twin brother’s advice from long ago: “If someone walks away from you, little star, let them go. The right people don’t need convincing to stay.” Easy for him to say. Evander had always occupied the role of the perfect alpha in a family of business alphas, never needing to battle for love or acceptance. Unlike my father Damian, who warned me of my challenges as an omega in the business world, insisting, “Don’t give them more reasons to regret hiring you,” and my father Alexander, whose icy disappointment was always palpable, or Victor, whose focus was solely on arranging mating matches for me. I couldn’t face them with news of yet another family disappointment. Despair threatened to swallow me whole. But maybe… perhaps this wasn’t the end. If only I could gather the pieces of myself… “Stop it, Emmeline,” I scolded myself, pinching the back of my hand to channel the pain into grounding reality. “You’re not going to cry here.” I wasn’t, right? With slow deliberation, I stretched, every ache resonating through my limbs, then swung my legs out of bed. The soft carpet welcomed my feet as I fought off the urge to snivel. I would not give him my tears. Not now. I trudged into the bathroom, each movement a reminder of how much I ached, a burn in my thighs—evidence of an intense night. Blood spotted my underwear, and I hadn’t imagined we had been that rough. “It’s okay,” I told myself softly, even as my thoughts twisted painfully around my heart. “I don’t really want an alpha.” The words felt hollow, undermined by the pang of desperation within. My omega, however, howled in protest at both Uri’s disappearance and my denial. The proximity of my heat only increased her restlessness. I began to push those feelings aside; I might not want him, but the professional implications of last night loomed ominously. Uri was my boss. I slept with my boss. Four times. And somehow, amidst all this chaos, he was my scent match. Did that make things better or infinitely more complicated? He was gone. The question lingered—why? For a brief moment, my skepticism of Uri surfaced. He was supposed to be a good guy—or so I thought. Yet something didn’t fit; he wasn’t the type to just disappear. Stop it, Emmeline—these thoughts had no place here. If he wanted to be here when I woke, he could have made that choice. He could have left me a note, a simple acknowledgment of our night together. But he hadn’t, and that was what mattered. My hands moved almost instinctively, tugging the ruined sheets from the bed. The nesting instinct surged within, urging me to claim the space. I made way to the corner nearest the window, drawn to the sunlight and the residue of Uri’s scent. Back and forth, I gathered our pillows, blankets, and clothes—anything imbued with our mingled scents. My omega pulsed with intent, carefully arranging each item as if constructing a plea for his return—an invitation to rediscover what was lost, and a desperate attempt to show him what we could be together beyond the confines of quarterly reports and campaign metrics. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I focused on creating a sanctuary, a fortress designed to cradle our connection. It should have felt right, comforting—yet as I settled in, curling instinctively against the soft fabric, the relief I sought eluded me. Instead, an overwhelming emptiness filled the void Uri left behind, suffocating and daunting. My hands clutched the blankets, but no amount of warmth could fill the gaping absence in my heart. A raw wail tore from me before I could suppress it. My body trembled, a cold dread sinking into my bones. My nest was incomplete. Wrong. A fracture deep within echoed my omega’s cries, a poignant reminder of Uri’s absence. “Why did my alpha leave me?” I murmured, my voice a fragile whisper that burned my throat—so similar to the fervent requests I had made the night before. With a sudden rush of anger, fury erupted within me like a tempest. I jumped to my feet, tearing apart the remnants of our sanctuary, flinging clothes across the room, dismantling the very walls I had tried to build. “Why would he leave?” The question erupted from my chest, an agonized plea as I clutched my heart, breath hitching. My omega whined, reeling from the weight of Uri’s betrayal. In the aftermath of my destruction, a sense of relief began to seep through. “This isn’t me. I didn’t want this,” I assured myself, wiping the tears away as resolve slowly set in. “It’s okay. It was for the best.” While my omega cried, I erected mental barriers to shield myself from the painful truths. With a painstaking calm, I searched for my clothes, preparing to dress even as every fiber of my being ached for comfort. My leggings, slick with remnants of the night, hugged my skin. I faced the absence of my underwear with resignation; there was no point in searching. I needed to leave. I needed distance—safety from the ghost of Uri. Whispers of my omega instincts echoed within, but I clung resolutely to my independence. One last glance swept the room, ensuring I hadn’t forgotten anything, until my eyes caught a glimpse of fabric hidden beneath the bed—a dark blue tie, a remnant of Uri’s presence shrouded in shadow. My breath hitched; lust and longing collided. I should leave it behind. I should walk away and never look back. Yet I stood frozen, tethered to this piece of his life. One last battle raged inside me—a clash of pride against the instinct demanding connection. It was merely a piece of fabric; it shouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter. But it did. With one final, shaky breath, I snatched it up and pressed it to my nose. The scent of him enveloped me—his heady blend of black pepper and honey, foreign yet achingly familiar—and the sharp ache in my throat echoed with longing. No one was here to witness my weakness—no judgement, no scorn. I tucked his tie into the waistband of my leggings, burying it beneath my t-shirt. No one would ever know. Carrying my heels, I stepped lightly into the hallway, heart racing as I let the door close behind me with a soft thud. “Ow,” I muttered under my breath as I moved cautiously through the empty executive floor. The silence was suffocating—a stark contrast to the usually bustling atmosphere. I relished the solitude, grateful for the absence of prying eyes. No keyboard clicks or conference chatter echoed around me, and the stillness amplified my growing anxiety. As I reached the elevators, a sudden pang of separation gnawed at me, but I refused to linger—my feet ached, my muscles protesting last night’s escapades. The remnants of pleasure lingered in my bloodstream, yet the reality of my approaching heat loomed larger than ever. I couldn’t afford to let another alpha witness my vulnerability—not after experiencing Uri’s warmth, his strength. No other alpha would do. I would have to cancel with the omega center and endure this heat alone. Yes, that was rational; I needed to focus on staying strong. I wouldn’t allow myself to feel more than I already did. I stood before the elevator, wearing my determination like armor. I pressed the button, but nothing happened. “Oh, fuck,” I groaned, realizing that I hadn’t brought my ID badge. Of course. This walk of shame demanded yet another obstacle. My heart raced as a shift in the air prickled my senses. A familiar warmth wrapped around me—his unmistakable presence thrumming just behind me. I braced myself, but instinct urged me to turn and face it. Uri’s scent melted away, replaced by the crisp aroma of mint and green tea. My stomach lurched as I recognized the figure standing behind me—Sterling Carter, Uri’s Beta packmate and Opus Media’s head of security. This was the last person I needed to see right now. His alluring scent sent a wave of confusion through my body; I couldn’t afford to be attracted to another scent match. My throat tightened as I met his piercing hazel eyes, brimming with unreadable intent. Sterling was every bit as striking as Uri, exuding a potent mix of intensity and control. Instead of his usual tailored suits, he opted for fitted joggers and a sleek athletic top that outlined his muscular frame—each contour accentuated, drawing my gaze against my will. Fate was amused, wasn't she? Where Uri was a master of restrained power, Sterling emanated calculated precision. He surveyed me with an unwavering gaze, muscles coiled like a predator awaiting its prey—nothing about his expression gave away recognition or warmth. “Sterling,” I stammered, flustered, my cheeks flushing. “I mean, um, Mr. Carter. I’m—" His nostrils flared suddenly, taking in my scent, and for a fleeting heartbeat, something flickered in his expression before it was carefully masked. “Do you need me to let you out?” His voice was smooth yet devoid of warmth, a chilled command. My omega quivered at the indifference, but I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Um… yes, please.” I peered up at him, searching for even the slightest hint of interest or disdain, yet his features remained inscrutable. “Emmeline Whitmore.” The name slipped from my lips like a whispered confession. “Why are you here?” His frustration crackled in the air, igniting my apprehension. “I was—” I started but hesitated, the weight of his gaze heavy upon me. “I was working on something with Mr. Rothschild.” Even as I spoke, I felt his scrutiny sharpen. The elevator whirred, its arrival imminent, but the tension laced in the air was suffocating. “Yes, well—” his expression tightened, amusement glimmering momentarily before he regained his stone face. “You’ve been here… all night?” “I have, yes,” I murmured, crossing my arms defensively against the weight of his judgment. The lift doors slid open, a breath of escape, yet as I stepped into the sterile interior, the familiar scent of bleach vanished, leaving only the remnants of Uri’s lingering essence mingling with my own. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Carter,” I managed to articulate, forcing nonchalance into my movements as I slipped toward the back of the lift. I pressed the button for the ground floor, silently praying he wouldn’t join me. “Miss Whitmore?” His voice cut through the air just as the doors began to close. I hesitated at the sound. Tension crackled as I considered ignoring him, but duty tugged at me. I reluctantly met his gaze again, every ounce of confidence I could muster shifting into place. “Next time you do the walk of shame, maybe have a shower first if you don’t want to out yourself,” he jabbed, the devious smirk on his lips chilling me down to my core. With that, he spun on his heel, walking away with a casual swagger that only sent my nerves deeper into turmoil. As the doors closed, I slumped against the wall, letting out a pained whine. Mortification roared through me. How would I ever face them again? My skin felt electrified, trembling under scrutiny, and I barely managed to ground myself amidst the rising tide of angst that churned violently within me. One step at a time, I battled through the foyer, desperate for anonymity. I tried to ignore judgmental glances, assured that no one would recognize me along this path of shame. Once outside, I let the cool air embrace me, praying for distraction from the embarrassment simmering just beneath the surface. The ride home was a blur—my thoughts chaotic and disjointed, spinning out of control. I flicked off my phone, severing any chance of contact with Uri, resigned that he wouldn't reach out. Once I arrived home, a hot shower was my solace. I scrubbed every inch of my skin, the rough soap a harsh reminder of his touch. Each lather was a desperate attempt to erase him, to reclaim my autonomy from this overwhelming heat. I wanted to exorcise the memory of every encounter we had, every interaction that had now become a haunting reminder of my vulnerability. My tears blended seamlessly with the steam, hidden from the world like a well-guarded secret. Finally, dried off and cocooned in my comfiest onesie—an armor I only donned during my heat cycle—I slunk into the sanctuary of my nest. As I cocooned myself in familiar fabrics, the scent of lavender calming my frayed nerves, I held Uri’s tie to my nose, drawing in deep breaths. A rumble escaped my chest—my omega purred, vibrating against the fabric that still bore Uri’s essence. The richness of black pepper and honey flooded my senses—a scent I would forever crave. Tears fell freely, a release of anguish unbidden as I buried my face in the tie. Here, in my nest, surrounded by cocooning warmth, I would allow the chaos to wash over me. It was a hollow comfort yet an oasis amidst stormy currents. Though it would never be enough, I clung to this tether to him.