It’s not like I’ve truly not liked the idea of getting to know him. More so, it’s because proximity makes maintaining professional distance increasingly difficult.
And now we have enforced proximity with no escape.
Aidric finally abandons the control panel, turning toward me with an expression that broadcasts defeat he's struggling to accept.
Pride.
Wounded pride.
Has to ask for help, which clearly pains him on a fundamental level.
"What shall we do?" I ask with theatrical innocence, crossing arms over my chest in a pose that emphasizes the power dynamic shift. "There's no way my Alpha would possibly need his Omega's saving grace."
Laying it on thick.
Enjoying his discomfort way too much.
But he needs to learn to ask for help rather than stubbornly struggling alone.
He groans—an actual groan of suffering, hand coming up to cover his face like he can hide from the indignity.
"Fine." The word emerges muffled, reluctant. "I need your knowledge and understanding of elevator mechanical systems and emergency protocols that apparently exceed my own."
Victory.
Small victory, but I'll take it.
I push off the wall, moving closer with predatory satisfaction at having extracted admission from proud Alpha.
"If I get us out of this situation—" I lean in, invading his personal space deliberately. "—you owe me a date."
Date.
Real date.
Not a pack activity, not a group outing—an actual romantic date.
His eyes widen, color flooding his cheeks in ways that suggest I've completely derailed his thought processes.
"And Calder is obviously invited as a third party," I add casually, watching his reaction with scientific interest.
Because their tension needs addressing.
And forcing them into a romantic context might accelerate whatever breakthrough they're avoiding.
Or create a spectacular disaster.
It could go either way.
"No." The refusal is immediate, automatic, and completely unconvincing given his body language. "Absolutely not. That's—we're not—I don't?—"
"Aidric." I give him my best unimpressed look, the one that made rookie firefighters confess to violations before I finished asking questions. "You're blushing, stammering, andbroadcasting your interest so loudly I'm surprised the entire building can't hear it."
He's so transparent.
Thinks he's hiding feelings when he's actually projecting them like a neon sign.
He opens his mouth—presumably to argue, to deny, to maintain his defensive walls through sheer stubborn determination.
