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To tell the truth, Win is not having a good day.
As one would expect, a man of his status has his fair share of confrontations going off course. They always leave him in bad spirits because these types of meetings seem to never go as typically planned.
Besides, his job isn’t easy as people claim. Some assume that a mafioso does nothing but collect debts, spend lots of money on trivial things and loiter about. They’re not entirely wrong, but then again, Win would rather have them killed for their assumptions than prove them wrong.
Win was raised to become the sole head of the family. His father brought him up to be as ruthless as the rest of the clan. As a consequence, he has to maintain order within the family, ensure that people are pulling their weight and keep healthy relationships with other clans for trade profits. Despite his youth, Win works himself to the bone every day to take care of different matters such as this one.
It’s all about the results.
Many people of Thailand know of his family and those who don’t should count themselves lucky. The power they carry, their influence and reputation is perpetual and not to be taken lightly. It hasn’t been long since Win had taken reigns, had taken the underground’s to new heights. He seamlessly merged the old into the new. The money he gained from inheritance and profit margins have been used to purchase ships that travel all across the ocean. This also entails being co-owners to lavish omegan brothels and a variety of casinos across Bangkok. Not to mention arsenals of every type of weapon in the country at their disposal.
It’s a high society, playing each side for power, but that’s just another days work.
Dazedly, he can feel something trickling down the side of his face, so he wipes at it haphazardly, thinking it’s as mere as sweat. A blink, and then he realises that instead of the sweat he’s expecting, it’s blood. But not his. His fingers soon stain with crimson, and it trickles onto the floor. Win feels like an idiot as he’s dripping it everywhere without realising. At least it’s ruining the carpet.
The last meeting with the Theerapanyakuns had failed to come to the fruition Win had hoped for. He had lost out on a big connection. Moral of the story: don’t make snide comments directed toward the head alpha’s omega. Really, Win shouldn’t have been naive. To be honest, he’s still sulking about it.
“Sir, you’re bleeding,” one of the omega escorts helpfully supplies. “Would you like some cloth?”
“I’m glad you noticed,” Win says, sarcasm lacing his voice. A timid omega draped in a pale, almost translucent white robe eventually comes to pass him a handkerchief. He snatches it and rubs at his face, throwing it backward once he’s finished. Someone else can clean it. He’s not here to rub shoulders.
He sits there on an expensive couch, one leg crossed over the other. Win is staring at his surroundings, taking them in with a level of disdain. It’s nothing but luxury. Nothing but the best. There’s a whiskey bar, reminiscent of some sort of gentleman’s drawing room. There’s the wafting aroma of cigar smoke shrouding the scent of any other persons dynamic. It’s almost suffocating. Both the smell and the silence.
Win is late, he’s well aware. It’s out of spite that he’s been forced to wait longer. That’s just the type of person Korn is.
They have absolutely nothing in common other than a will for the right result. Every step Win has to take toward his goals, the other man is usually involved. Korn having full control of the capital may be why. He can bear with it for now. Hopefully after a few more months, he won’t have to see his face ever again. It’s something about intuition. That’s all it is. Win has a personal vendetta against the other alpha, and nothing can dissuade his gut feeling.
The door opens, then closes, revealing the man Win despises most. Unfortunately for him, he has to put their differences aside just for today. This is a pivotal export deal that he has to make or else he’d be labelled a fool by the main family.
Korn is a good looking man, he’ll give him that. Despite that, his personality is downright unbearable. How someone can look and be like the embodiment of the word annoying is beyond him. His scent is a mix of leather and oak and it wafts through the room in an attempt to overshadow. Win’s nose wrinkles at the notion.
He enters the room in such a cocky manner, a small smile on his face. Win knows he’s taking pleasure in the fact that he needs him for something. And that something is far too important to risk losing. The man has the swagger of someone Win doesn’t even want to lock eyes with, let alone cross.
Korn takes the empty plush couch in front of him and straightens his suit. He gestures his hand lazily to dismiss the remaining escorts. Win isn’t even sure why they’re here. They are located in one of Korn’s brothels, but he’s just the slightest bit lost at the purpose of their presence.
An attempt at flaunting, perhaps. An easy distraction to most. The omegas here are pretty and frail but not worthy of his attention. To him, they’re all the same. Boring.
Win is too busy heavily anticipating the conversation he is about to initiate. He has spent hours concocting alternate solutions, but as much as he hates to admit it, Win needs Korn’s assistance.
He opens his mouth to speak, but the other male beats him to it. Convenient.
“You don’t have to look so nervous,” Korn says, half mocking and half smug. He takes in Win’s appearance with chagrin, particularly focused on the dried blood stains on his white undershirt.
“I’m not here for pleasantries from you,” Win chides, crossing his arms.
Korn’s lips twist into a smirk. “And, what are you here for?”
“I’m here to settle on the agreement.”
Win hands a file folder labelled classified into Korn’s grasp. So much for professionalism. This is personal. He just wants this business to be over so he can leave this establishment and get back to his property.
The room is plunged into silence once more. Win is confident that the man is mocking him at this point. He skims through the documents with little to no care at all, eyes flitting far too quickly over the contract.
“You want claim over my land in exchange for narcotics?” Korn reaffirms, making eye contact with the other male. “I won’t give you the entirety, I hope you’re aware.”
“I anticipated that. Thats why I came to negotiate,” Win says mannerly, “Sign the contract, and you are guaranteed my protection and the narcotics with access to my jurisdiction.”
“The shipment is on its way?”
“It will be when I make the call.”
A pause.
“It seems you’re relying heavily on my cooperation.”
Win grits his teeth. “That is correct, yes.” He leans forward until his elbows meet his knees. “Think carefully about your decision. You are aware I’m offering you a good deal.”
“Oh, I have given it some thought,” Korn remarks flatly. He’s observing Win with a look of aloof judgement. There’s no heat in his voice. Korn has a way he talks that gives him away. Always, it’s the same, playing hard to get and toying with Win’s head just to provoke him. Once Win comes up with a plausible solution, he knows the other male will lose interest, stop talking and leave. He acquires nothing except Win’s growing frustration.
While the other plays devils advocate, Win is forced to play nice.
“Listen, if there needs to be any adjustments then I’m willing to negotiate,” Win says, grimacing. “You know that.”
Korn still has that shit-eating grin on his face.
“Your contract hardly interests me. I have no use for narcotics in my line of business.”
“Then, the money. You don’t want that as a means to undertake your next ventures?”
“It’s always about the money isn’t it? I find it quite mundane.”
He must be the most foolish man Win has ever met.
“Mundane? You can’t be—“
Win stops. Or freezes. He isn’t quite sure which one.
They’re no longer alone.
It’s the scent. An omega scent. He can tell by the floral sweetness. To the air comes the fragrance of lavender. It reminds Win of the opening of spring and he can’t stop inhaling it like freshly washed laundry. At first glance he can’t see his face at all, the morning light streams in from behind him at the window making a halo effect around his head. He steps in without being invited.
And then he looks harder.
He’s instantly mesmerised.
Win is simply captivated by the person who is entering the room. His face has all the beauty a man could possess. His hair is jet black, framing eyes that hold intensity. His profile is visible as tinged cheeks and pink lips. He’s truly a beauty, a siren reincarnate with a small nose, dark brows and pillowy lips. This is the type of omega alphas would kill for.
A dress that holds the blue of forget-me-nots is snug on the omegas body. And a body that is. All curves. Not even Aphrodite could compare. The dress is a type of slip dress, cutting fine at the waist where his hips are wide. He looks devilishly expensive, exquisite and definitely spoiled.
The sight and the aromas combined together is enough to carve it forever into his mind.
Win sits to attention, boredom evacuating his body in seconds. “Hello,” he greets. Somewhat tentative yet with hints of intrigue. This is the first time he’s ever been careful on what he says.
The omega looks at him and blinks slowly. His lashes are imbedded with what appears to be light mascara. Pretty. Too pretty. He then casts his gaze toward Korn who is preoccupied rereading the papers. It’s as if he’s wary of the alphas presence, seeking permission. His body dips a little to signify a bow before retreating into the corner of the room, head downcast.
Huh. Interesting.
Win still can’t stop staring. He’s hypnotised. His alpha can hardly rein itself in, tearing at the seams of control.
There’s a mystery about him, and that’s what pulls him in, itching for more. This infatuation is the internal flame Win has been seeking all his days.
Win could soak him all in for time and still never have enough.
He absolutely must have this omega.
“This isn’t even the payment we agreed on,” Korn murmurs. However, the atmosphere has plummeted into a heavy silence. Upon hearing no response, he looks up and finds Win fixated on the corner of the room. Not once in his life has he seen that look on the mafioso’s face. That look of pure fascination, full of adoration. He follows Win’s line of sight in a fit of confusion to find the source of the disruption.
His face quickly phases into one of displeasure.
“Please don’t ogle at my assistant so blatantly,” he grits. He’s asking politely, painfully, but Win knows he’s bluffing because his tone holds nothing but bitterness.
“Your assistant? Is that who he is to you?” Win asks, eyes glinting with unrestrained mirth. He’s too gorgeous to be an assistant. He should be a model, in fact, for one of those omega beauty magazines. Win would spend every dime on the omega just for him to sit pretty in his own home. Not to waste time here. His mouth curls into the start of a smirk, delighted in finding a source to Korn’s irritation. “He’s very beautiful. I was merely taken aback.”
Korn’s eyes narrow and he clenches his jaw. “He is,” he reaffirms. Now, can you stop staring at him and tell me why the contract isn’t the same as the one before?”
“How much was he?” Win chides, unwavering. He looks like the cat who got the cream. “Expensive, I bet. An omega as gorgeous as him.”
He tilts his head snidely, judging Korn’s reaction.
He’s satisfied with the visible eye twitch.
How amusing.
The alpha turns toward the omega in that moment. Win is somewhat baffled by the way Korn’s face morphs into something warmer, friendlier. A look that is obviously reserved for him. It’s clear he treats the omega well. Is he a lover? An escort? Korn is owner to several renowned omega brothels across Bangkok, so Win assumes that the gorgeous omega is some type of Madame. A head omega that works directly with the other escorts, providing a more nurturing role. It’s obvious in the contrast in appearance compared to the other omegas.
Regardless, Win refuses to believe he’s just an assistant.
Because, what a waste that would be.
“Tonkla, could you go make us some tea, please?” Korn smiles. Too nice. He’s being far too nice. It’s weird. Unnatural. Win is suspicious. He didn’t peg him for a man who enjoys tea over alcoholic beverages.
Tonkla. His name is Tonkla.
He’ll savour that name for later.
“Yes, sir.” The omega —Tonkla— nods obediently before excusing himself. His voice is auditory caramel to his ears.
Win has a voluptuous view of the omegas rear as he vacates the room.
Once Tonkla leaves and the door has clicked shut, Korn’s frown reappears tenfold.
“You know,” the other alpha snaps, through his own flash of teeth, settling himself back into the chair. “For a man who requires something from me, you’re going beyond the pale.”
“I adjusted the payment because I was advised that I was already offering too much for that amount of territory.” Win’s expression tightens. He’d much rather have Tonkla present just to make things slightly more bearable.
“You expect me to accept this much for my own land? You must be delusional. Rewrite the contract.” Korn narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.
“If you throw in Tonkla, I may reconsider.”
“The omega is off limits. He belongs to me.”
Ah. Struck a nerve.
Unfortunately, the words off limits do not associate with Win.
“I thought he was merely an assistant?” Win knows he’s treading on thin ice. He’s unbearably smug about it. Something about getting under the alphas skin is fun. He seems to be forgetting why he’s even here in the first place— to rectify the deal. His father isn’t going to be pleased.
“Anything that lives and breathes in this building belongs to me, what don’t you understand?”
Win pushes his luck. He can’t resist. Any other proposition has been thrown out the window. “Sell me him. Name an amount and it’s yours.”
The answer is quick, assertive. “No.”
Win bites back a displeased growl just barely.
The table falls to sharp silence as Tonkla returns to the room, tray balanced eloquently on his arm with the pot of tea, two cups and what turns out to be milk when he sets it down. Win watches as he does, finally able to see him from up close.
It should be criminal to look that ethereal.
Tonkla has some sort of heaven spun gaze. Win could hold it forever. It feels like an honour when the omega looks his way. Behind that stare is uncertainty and confusion. Tonkla is frozen for maybe three whole seconds before he swiftly resumes his position and his eyes quit staring.
“Thank you, Tonkla,” Win murmurs, still bewitched by the omegas presence. He tastes the name on his lips, finally having a reason to say it. It’s a challenge to even cast his gaze away, he’s that enthralling.
If Korn sent this omega in to distract him, it’s working.
Unfortunately, the other alpha is not amused.
“Tonkla, sit with me,” Korn instructs, raising a hand so the omega can be guided towards him. Tonkla takes the offered hand and follows, albeit hesitantly, to park himself next to the alpha. It’s a display of blatant possession. A claim. You can look but you can’t have.
Something in Korn’s eyes is predatory.
Win frowns. His alpha is becoming dangerously agitated for reasons he can’t quite yet comprehend. That acidic bile of jealousy rises up from his throat and has him on edge.
“He’s lovely,” is what Win settles on instead.
Eyes like a secluded doe in a forest, Tonkla tips his face away. Blush colours his cheeks in champagne pink.
Win draws in a sharp intake of air.
With that, he takes the tea nearest Korn ungraciously and sips. It’s strong and sweet. For some moments Win just wraps his hands around the ceramic mug, letting the warmth flow through his fingers. Tonkla had made it so he decides to treat it like something precious.
“Of course he is,” Korn finally answers, wearing a smug grin. “Only the finest of omegas can sit beside me.”
“You dabble in the omega trade then?”
“No, I would never invest in something so inhumane.”
A lie. Win has seen the records. He knows he’s bought omegas from various auctions.
“Does he treat you well?” Win smiles indulgently. He’s looking at Tonkla now, ignoring the heavy stare from Korn. The omega is caught off guard, eyes bulking with sheer shock. As if he can’t believe the audacity.
It’s actually quite cute.
“I treat him just fine,” Korn scowls.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Win says, voice turning hard and gaze thinning while his hands slide subtly into his suits pockets.
Win can feel the weight of the judgement Korn cast on him, though his attention is set on Tonkla far more. The air is so brittle, it could snap. They sit knee deep in silence. It’s uncomfortable. It’s unsettling. Win loves it.
Tonkla turns to the alpha beside him, and receives a reluctant nod. Win tenses at the motion.
“Yes,” comes the soft reply, smooth as silk, his eyes finally snapping to Win’s. “Alpha Korn has always taken good care of me. I live comfortably thanks to him.”
When the envy grabs at his tongue and dries his mouth, he doesn’t let it show.
“Is there a debt to pay off? Is that it?” Win inquires. “I’ll pay it in full on his behalf.” Tonkla watches him carefully, eyebrows narrowed and assessing.
There are cases in which omegas from high prestige families sell off their own kin to guarantee protection and to pay off a lifetime debt. Corruption weaves easily in this instance. Those who are tied with the mafia entertain this practice the most hence Win’s suspicion. As shady as it sounds, the omega who is sold is promised a life of luxury and comfort. They’re mostly there just to sit and look pretty on someone’s arm.
He’s gotten used to the sight by now from countless events, parties, auctions and balls— the like.
Win is getting himself too wound up in this.
The deal— think about the deal.
“I assure you that none of that is your business, Win.” Korn challenges him. He’s deceptively calm to an unnerving extent. “It’s the least of your concerns, especially with you holding the remnants of your family on your shoulders. You came here for a reason but you’re yet to fulfil the purpose of your visit.”
Win hates that he’s right.
Distantly he can hear Tonkla cough from the influx of thick alpha pheromones. Instinctual alphas have a talent for masking the room with musk. It’s territorial, primal. Trying to win over the omega is in an alpha’s blood. They’re programmed for this.
The gun in his pocket feels cool against his skin.
An impulse is all it is. A negotiation tactic, that’s all.
“So, you won’t be taking this opportunity with added interest?” Win queries all too kindly. His hand twitches.
Almost. Maybe.
He’s nearly gotten a full grasp on the trigger of the gun, when suddenly, a small figure darts toward him in a carousel of blue.
Several things happen at once. Too fast.
Win rears back instinctively, ready to retaliate, to fight, anything, but the figure catches him by the arm and pulls it above his head in lightening speed. The gun topples behind him, falling through his fingers and onto the floor in lieu of his shock.
He would be infuriated if not for the saccharine scent, the exact scent he had fallen in love with just before. There’s a hand clasped over his mouth, and it’s soft, small and warm. An angry hiss escaping Tonkla’s makes the growl die on Win’s lips. Gone is the dull haze over his eyes, the innocent omega who follows orders. In their place is sharp focus, determination.
Win is too awed to try to escape, to do anything but bask in the gorgeous omega perched on his lap.
So this is what it’s like to be at mercy.
Willingly.
“You must be a fool,” Tonkla glowers, an expression of disbelief appearing once it’s clear Win isn’t putting up a struggle. “Pulling a weapon out in here?” The sickeningly sweet picture perfect omega facade has completely vanished. It’s someone entirely different. Someone skilled and highly trained.
“Not an assistant,” Win murmurs dumbly in return through the fingers on his mouth.
Tonkla’s eyes narrow into slits, his glare hot and heavy.
Win has never been this turned on in his life.
Their gaze lasts for more seconds, enough for each to take in the face of the other. Nothing needs to be said. There’s something pulling between them, a mutual feeling of budding desire. It shouldn’t be a coincidence that their scents intertwine all too perfectly. Floral notes combined with cedarwood.
“I usually take omegas out to dinner first,” Win grins as the omega remains baffled by both his lack of reaction and situational awareness.
Before Tonkla can pull himself back, Win’s hand takes the opportunity to wrap around the base of his neck. Not quite scruffing, but the intention is clear. The other follows suit and holds his spine so firmly that the omega can do little but arch away from it.
Oh, he fits perfectly against him.
“Your boss is pretty stupid letting someone as gorgeous as you become his personal bodyguard,” Win says, as casual as can be. He catches Korn’s eyes as he says it over his shoulder. “If it were up to me you’d be bathed in the finest of jewels and treated like royalty.”
Tonkla scoffs at that. He glares down at Win’s intent look with half lidded eyes. The alpha is teasing, but serious at the same time. There’s something hungry and exciting in his eyes.
“That’s enough. Let him go,” Korn snarls. It’s deep. Not a shout, but a demand. It succeeds in breaking the string of tension, hanging on by a measily thread. “You’ve had your fun.”
Win, not one to disrespect nor distress an omega, obliges. He’s mafia, not dishonourable. Tonkla doesn’t immediately get off of his lap though, which is interesting enough. Instead, the omega observes him like he’s picking him apart piece by piece. Win lets him, of course. He could get caught up by his eyes for eternity. When he does move off, Win has the blessing of seeing a slither of thigh as the dress rides up from the position. The fingers at his sides twitch.
“Impressive,” Win taunts. “Your little assassin here has disarmed me.” He’s still bathing in the afterglow of it all. A part of him is regretting not bringing another weapon to relive the moment.
Korn doesn’t speak until Tonkla is settled back beside him, the omega folding one leg over the other mannerly. He looks unbelievably sexy, an unfathomable amount of sexy. He’s slightly more unkept than before, which is pleasing Win’s core to an alarming rate.
On the other hand, Korn seems to have had enough with his antics. Still staring and squinting scornfully, like a cobra seeking its prey. His face has considerably hardened since the ordeal, but then he’s turning on the charm, bright false smile, suddenly friendly. It’s unnerving how easy he does that.
“I think that settles it,” he finally says very clearly. Loudly. “Take your useless documents and leave my premises. Tonkla escort him out, please.”
Win really isn’t feeling as bothered as he should. Well, he knows the family will showcase their disapproval. His father most likely will lay out a punishment for him. Maybe this time, he’ll lose a finger or two. Strangely enough, he feels more prevailed than anything, energised to a considerable amount.
It might have something to do with his sudden obsession regarding the enemy’s new omega.
Tonkla hands him back his gun and Win takes it, deliberately brushing their hands together and causing the omega to scowl up at him. The difference in height is prominent and all Win can imagine is the way he would fit so snug under his chin with his hands on that sinful waist. Even that simple fantasy adds another layer of shameless attraction.
It certainly doesn’t help that Tonkla’s starless eyes keep looking up at him so intently, eyelids heavy, successfully causing Win to grit his teeth.
He’s not sure what motivates him more, Tonkla gazing at him as if he knows his every desire and being a beauty beyond belief or the opportunity to antagonise Korn further. Win could definitely use this as some sort of leverage against him which is an enticing thought.
It’s too good of a move. To have the omega he wants for himself while simultaneously infuriating the enemy.
And with the way Tonkla is still staring at him, Win is urged to entertain the idea.
He’s challenging him.
And he’s not going to make it easy.
If Win wants him, he’ll have to come and get him.
Another man’s treasure should be his, and his alone.