I arrived at Blackwood Tower at 7:25 a.m., fifteen minutes early, exactly as the terse email from Charles's assistant had instructed.
The building was already alive. People moved through the lobby with quiet efficiency, dressed in sharp suits, voices low, steps purposeful. No one wasted time. No one looked uncertain. This was a place where hesitation did not belong.
I adjusted the collar of my black shirt once, more out of habit than necessity. The top two buttons were open, just as he had told me. It should not have mattered, but it did. The fabric felt lighter than usual, like it exposed more than it should. My suppressants were fresh, taken hours ago, but there was still a faint, steady awareness beneath my skin that refused to disappear completely.
The private elevator took me straight to the top floor.
When the doors opened, the scent reached me immediately.
It was the same as yesterday. Rich. Controlled. Unmistakably Alpha. It lingered in the air, layered now with the clean, sterile scent of the office. It settled over me in a way that felt almost deliberate.
I kept my expression neutral and walked toward the desk assigned to me just outside his office.
Everything about the space reflected him. Clean lines. Dark surfaces. Glass walls that revealed everything and nothing at the same time. The city stretched below, distant and insignificant.
I had just reached the desk when his voice cut through the quiet.
"Eric. Come in."
There was no greeting, no acknowledgment of the time. Just my name, spoken like a command.
I stepped inside.
Charles was already seated behind his desk, focused on his laptop. He did not look up immediately, but I knew the exact moment his attention shifted to me.
"Close the door."
I did.
When he finally lifted his gaze, it moved over me slowly. Not careless. Not distracted. He took in the open collar, the fit of my shirt, the way I stood. It felt less like a glance and more like an assessment.
"You followed instructions," he said. "Good."
It should have sounded neutral, but it did not. There was something in the way he said it that settled deeper than it should.
He leaned back slightly.
"You stay with me today. No training department. No orientation. You learn by watching. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded once, then gestured to the chair across from him.
"Sit. We have work to do."
The morning moved quickly.
Charles worked without pause, moving from one task to another with precision that felt almost mechanical. Calls, reports, decisions made in seconds that clearly carried weight far beyond the room. I kept up, taking notes, organizing documents, responding to emails when he directed me to.
It should have been simple.
It was not.
Every movement I made felt noticed. Not in an obvious way, but in a way that was impossible to ignore. When I stood, when I leaned forward to place a document on his desk, when I paused for even a second longer than necessary, I felt it. His attention. Quiet. Constant.
At 10:30 a.m., during a brief break between calls, he spoke without looking up.
"You're competent."
A pause.
"More than I expected."
"Thank you, sir."
He looked at me then, studying me more directly.
"Most people in your position spend the first week correcting mistakes," he continued. "You haven't made any. That means one of two things. Either you're very good at hiding them, or you came here more prepared than you should be."
My pulse shifted slightly, but I kept my expression steady.
"I don't like wasting time," I said.
There was the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Neither do I."
He stood and moved around the desk.
The distance between us closed again, and with it came that same pressure. His scent was stronger up close, heavier, more difficult to ignore. It settled against my senses in a way that made my focus slip for just a second.
"Tell me something, Eric," he said.
His voice was quieter now.
"When you said you wanted to be close to power, what exactly did you mean?"
I met his gaze.
"I meant I wanted to understand it. Not from the outside. From where it actually matters."
He watched me for a moment, as if weighing the answer.
"Be careful," he said finally. "That kind of curiosity tends to come with consequences."
The rest of the day followed the same pattern, but something had shifted.
He kept me closer than necessary.
Tasks that could have been done at my desk were given to me inside his office. When I worked at the computer, he stood behind me more than once, close enough that I could feel the heat of him without actual contact. When he leaned over to point something out, his presence filled the space completely.
By late afternoon, the suppressants were no longer as steady as they had been in the morning.
It started subtly. A faint warmth. A slight sensitivity that I could ignore if I focused. But every time he moved near me, it returned stronger.
I told myself it was manageable.
I also knew it would not stay that way.
He noticed.
He did not say anything, but I caught the way his eyes lingered once, then again, like he was tracking a pattern I had not intended to reveal.
At 6:45 p.m., when most of the floor had emptied, he finally closed his laptop.
"You did well today," he said.
"Thank you, sir."
He walked over while I finished organizing the last set of files.
"Tomorrow will be longer. Be prepared."
"I will."
I turned toward the door, ready to leave.
"Eric."
I stopped.
When I looked back, he was watching me in that same measured way.
"You're not a Beta," he said.
There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt.
"I'll figure out what you are."
For a moment, neither of us moved.
I gave a small nod, nothing more, and left the room.
The elevator doors closed behind me.
Only then did I allow myself to breathe properly.
Day one, and he was already too close.
I leaned back against the wall, watching my reflection without really focusing on it.
This was not how it was supposed to feel.
I came here with a plan.
A clear one.
But something had shifted the moment I stepped into his space, and it had not shifted back.
"I'm inside," I said quietly.
The words felt less certain than they should have.
Because the truth was becoming harder to ignore.
I had entered his world.
But it did not feel like I was the one in control of it.