Page 5 of The Omega Accountant

"Souza sends dogs to watch my territory now?"Myvoice remained conversational, though my scent had sharpened with alpha aggression, filling the confined space between us. "Interestingchoice."

"Public street," he managed, the words emerging strained against the pressure on his windpipe. "Noterritory claimed here."

I leaned closer, watching his pupils dilate with instinctive fear as my alpha pheromones intensified. "Everythingwithin my sight is my territory.Everyoneunder my protection is mine."Theblade pressed fractionally deeper, a needle-point of pressure. "ThatincludesBianchi."

Surprise flickered across his features—the truth beneath my claim registering through his panic.Hehadn't expected this.Noneof them had.Theomega accountant was supposed to be expendable, unprotected, an easy target for whatever schemeSouzahad designed.

"TellEmilioa message from me."Ieased the pressure on his throat just enough to ensure comprehension. "Noone watchesBianchi.Noone approaches him.Noone breathes near him without my permission."Theblade twisted slightly, drawing a single drop of blood that bloomed dark against his shirt. "He'smine.Whateverhe found, whatever he knows—mine."

I released him abruptly, watching him stumble forward, one hand rising to his throat where my fingers had left marks that would bruise into spectacular evidence by morning.

"Go,"Iordered, voice dropping to the register my captains recognized as final warning before violence. "Now.Takethe others.IfIseeSouzamen within ten blocks of this building again,Iwon't be delivering messages."

He retreated, eyes never leaving mine until he reached the safety of distance.Throughthe shadows,Iwatched him signal the others—a quick gesture that sent the sedan pulling away from the curb, the second watcher melting into the darkness of side streets.

Only when they had disappeared didIturn towardBianchi'sbuilding, alpha instincts still thrumming with territorial imperative.Thescent of theSouzaenforcer clung to my skin like a reminder of boundaries crossed, of threats that would require more permanent resolution soon.

The lobby doors opened to my approach, the night guard's expression shifting from professional alertness to the careful deference our family name inspired throughout the city.

"Mr.Corvino," he acknowledged, posture straightening imperceptibly. "HowcanIassist you this evening?"

"LucaBianchi.Fourthfloor.Callhim down."

The guard hesitated, protocol warring with self-preservation. "Sir,I'mnot authorized to?—"

"Call him,"Irepeated, letting alpha command color the words. "TellhimMatteoCorvinois here regarding the financial discrepancies he discovered today."

Recognition flashed across the guard's features—not of the situation but of the inevitable outcome should he continue resistance.Hereached for the phone, dialing with careful precision.

"Mr.Bianchi?Myapologies for the late hour.There'saMr.Corvinoin the lobby for you.Regarding...financial matters."Apause. "Yes, sir.I'llinform him."

He replaced the receiver, nodding toward the elevator. "He'llbe down momentarily,Mr.Corvino."

I moved to the center of the lobby, positioning myself whereIcould observe all entrances simultaneously—a habit formed through years of navigating spaces where threats rarely announced themselves before striking.Theelevator hummed to life, numbers illuminating in sequence as it descended from the fourth floor.

When the doors opened,LucaBianchistepped out cautiously, his slender frame tense with alertness that belied the composed expression he maintained.Darkcurls fell slightly disheveled across his forehead, wire-rimmed glasses perched on a straight nose, slim build encased in the same white shirt and navy slacks he'd worn at the office.Nothingremarkable on the surface.Nothingthat explained the instant recognition that triggered when our eyes met—a chemical awareness that transcended conscious thought.

His scent reached me even from this distance—subtle notes of honey and citrus partially masked by suppressants but unmistakable to alpha senses.Anomega in low-grade distress, controlled but present beneath the professional veneer he projected.

My jaw tightened involuntarily, teeth clenching against the unexpected potency of his scent.Thelobby suddenly felt too warm, confined in a way that had nothing to do with tactical vulnerability and everything to do with alpha biology responding to something my conscious mind wasn't ready to acknowledge.

"Mr.Corvino," he greeted, voice steady despite the anxiety evident in his scent. "Thisis...unexpected."

"We need to talk,"Ireplied, deliberately controlling my breathing through my mouth to limit how much of his scent reached my receptors.Evenso, the honey-citrus notes registered on my palate, making my next words emerge with a subtle roughnessIcouldn't entirely suppress. "Nothere."

Wariness flickered across his features, calculation evident as he assessed options, risks, potential outcomes.Smart.Cautious.Theinstincts of prey recognizing predator while maintaining dignity—qualities that had registered in our brief hallway encounter weeks earlier.

"Perhaps we could schedule a meeting tomorrow at the office," he suggested, maintaining formal distance both physically and verbally. "I'dbe happy to discuss any financial concerns during business hours."

"This isn't a request,Mr.Bianchi."Imoved closer, watching his pupils dilate slightly as my scent registered—alpha asserting territorial claim through pheromones rather than mere words. "Thereare men watching your building.Notmy father's men.Souza's."

His composure faltered momentarily, a microexpression of genuine fear flashing beneath professional calm. "Idon't understand.Whywould theSouzas?—"

"That's what we're going to discuss,"Iinterrupted, moving toward the exit and gesturing for him to follow. "Mycar is waiting.It'snot safe for you here."

To his credit, he didn't move immediately, intelligence and caution warring visibly as he processed limited options against potential dangers. "HowdoIknowI'msafer with you?"

The question—direct, unembellished with omega deference—registered as both challenge and unexpected point of respect.Thiswas no cowering subordinate seeking alpha protection, but a man weighing calculated risks against immediate threats.

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