Chapter Text
(GAWIN)
I adjusted the compressor threshold, nodding through the glass to the vocalist standing inside. He hit the high note cleanly.
"That's a take," I muttered into the talkback mic, letting out a breath of relief. "Take a five minute water break. The chorus sounded solid."
As the vocalist stepped out of the booth, my phone buzzed . I glanced down at the screen, and my stomach dropped slightly.
Dad.
I swiped to answer, rubbing the back of my neck. "Hello? Dad, I'm still at the studio. We're wrapping up the final tracks of the album"
"Drop whatever you're doing and come home," his voice cut through the line, sharp and completely devoid of warmth.
"Now, Gawin."
"Dad, I'm working," I sighed, keeping my voice even despite the sudden spike of irritation.
"Can this wait until tonight?"
"No, it cannot wait. Come straight . We have guests arriving, and you need to be here." Before I could argue back, the line went dead.
I stared at the phone for a second before dropping it onto the desk. Guests? Usually, when my father demanded my presence for "guests," it meant stiff corporate dinners, investors I didn't care about, or business partners trying to flex their influence.
Ten minutes later, I handed the final session files over to the staff, grabbed my keys, and drove to my house. The familiar iron gates of my family’s estate swung open
Stepping into the grand foyer, I immediately noticed the atmosphere was entirely too formal. The household staff were bustling about nervously, and the living room was lit with warm, ambient lights.
My father stepped out into the hallway, his sharp eyes immediately scanning me up and down with obvious disapproval.
"You're finally here," he said, crossing his arms. "Go wash your face and change. They'll be here any minute."
I didn't move an inch. I just looked at him, crossing my arms to mirror his posture.
"Why did you drag me away from the studio in the middle of a session? What is this about?"
"It's time, Gawin," my father said smoothly, there was a cold, glint in his eyes.
"We have arranged your marriage. The prospective partner and his family are coming to meet you today. Go upstairs, put on something nice, and make sure you look presentable."
A hollow, bitter laugh slipped past my lips. I wasn't even surprised just deeply, profoundly tired. I had known this day was coming since the moment I presented as an omega. In my family's world, people like me weren't sons or individuals with careers in music; we were valuable chips on a corporate chessboard, meant to be traded to strengthen company alliances and secure political footholds but I didnot want to marry yet and also someone I don't even know.
"An arranged marriage?" I asked
"Are you serious right now?
You didn't even ask me. You didn't even give me a heads up. I'm building a career in the industry, Dad. I have my own life, and I certainly don't want to get married yet!"
"This isn't a discussion, Gawin," my father snapped, stepping closer, his presence flaring with suppressed authority.
"The alliance with this family is vital for the firm's expansion. You will play your part, just as you were raised to do."
"Well, I'm refusing to be your corporate collateral!" .
“But you don't have a choice”
And I registered the clearity and honesty of his words I had no escape from this.
"If you're going to sell me off like some kind of luxury asset, at the very least, tell me who the hell I'm supposed to be marrying!"
My father glared at me, clearly losing his patience with my defiance.
"Just wait like you're told. You'll find out soon enough."
"Unbelievable," I muttered, turning on my heel and storming away before he could bark another command.
Instead of heading to my room to rifle through the tailored suits and button downs he expected me to wear, I walked straight to my closet with a point to prove. If they wanted a compliant, neatly packaged little omega to parade around for a wealthy suitor, they were barking up the wrong tree.
I yanked an oversized, grey hoodie off the hanger and pulled it over my head, followed by a pair of excessively worn, frayed black shorts that barely brushed my mid thigh. I didn't bother brushing my messy post studio hair, nor did I put on any shoes just a pair of beaten-up house slippers.
I caught my reflection in the full length mirror. Between the slouchy, drowning fabric of the hoodie and my thoroughly annoyed expression, I looked like a teenager who had just been dragged out of bed for chores.
Good. Let them see exactly how thrilled I was about being sold off.
(JOSS)
The heavy oak front door of the estate swung open, and I forced myself to swallow the knot of tension tightening in my throat.
My parents had always been predictable to a fault. Growing up, they indulged my every whim, backing me up in every boardroom and corporate maneuver no matter how ruthless or reckless. But that unconditional backing came with a heavy tether. They had wanted to accompany to see Mr Steven’s son firsthand, but a sudden, critical overseas merger had pinned them down at the headquarters. They couldn't make it, leaving me to walk into the lion’s den entirely on my own like I didnot convinced them for this marriage .
I hadn't wanted to come here at all. My life was already meticulously mapped out by our family's expanding corporate footprint, and marrying into another powerful household felt like tightening a gilded noose around my neck.
But I still remember Mr Steve's proposal that I can't even dodge.
“See your dad reputation being ruined or marry my son”
Stepping into the formal receiving room of Mr. Steve’s estate, I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt, mentally preparing to play the dutiful, polished heir.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway, and I turned, expecting a picture of pristine, manufactured compliance. Instead, the person walking into the room looked like they would rather be anywhere else on earth.
It was Gawin.
He didn’t look like an omega being presented as a strategic corporate asset. He was wearing the most unbothered, basic fit imaginable an oversized, faded gray hoodie that swallowed his frame and a pair of frayed black shorts that showed off far too much bare skin for a formal family introduction. His hair was a messy disaster, and he was padding in casual house slippers.
And yet, despite my best efforts to maintain my irritation, my breath caught.
Even though the heavy suppressants he had clearly taken his natural scent crisp, clean rain mixed with something faintly sweet like Jasmine managed to slip past the barrier, sharp and intoxicating enough for my alpha senses to catch instantly.
I hated how my instincts flared, and I hated myself even more for how quickly my eyes locked onto his face.
His eyes were devastatingly striking. There was a raw, aching depth to them, framed by long lashes and a cold, sharp glare. He looked stunning, wrapped in deliberate apathy, and it was infuriatingly, annoyingly cute.
As our eyes finally met across the room, Gawin didn't even try to hide his disdain. He let out a loud, heavy sigh and aggressively rolled his eyes at me, making his utter contempt crystal clear.
A quiet, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Most people tried to smile, fawn, or impress me. Gawin was openly treating me like a root canal, and strangely enough, I found it refreshing.
Mr. Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward with a tight, apologetic smile to bridge the awkward silence and seeing that guy's face makes me want to commit murder.
"Ah, Joss. Please, forgive my son. He tends to... lack proper timing when it comes to grooming standards. Gawin, come say hello. This is Joss."
We sat down for dinner shortly after, the table stretched out between us like a physical boundary. The meal was a painfully quiet affair filled with pleasantries from his parents and surely I didnot give a fuck what they think or are saying, so my attention was entirely anchored across the table.
Gawin spent the entire dinner poking at his food with a fork, refusing to look at me unless forced, his jaw clenched tight in silent rebellion. Every time he shifted, the faint trace of his scent drifted over the candlelight, keeping my pulse unnecessarily high.
After the dinner there was a heavy silence
Gawin's mother, sensing the suffocating tension hanging over the other side of the table, offered a tight, polite smile. She cleared her throat gently, catching our attention.
"Why don't you guys s talk a bit and get to know each other?
Gawin , why don't you show Joss... well, take a moment to chat. We'll excuse you both for a little while."
Before I could even nod, Gawin's chair scraped sharply against the floor. He stood up with zero hesitation, his oversized hoodie swallowing his frame, and kept his gaze firmly fixed anywhere in the room except at me. It was a masterclass in deliberate avoidance.
I excused myself as well, following him out toward the terrace that overlooked the gardens . The cool night air hit my face, carrying a faint breeze that did nothing to disperse the subtle, sweet jasmine scent lingering around him, no matter how hard his suppressants tried to mask it.
Gawin leaned back against the stone railing, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out into the dark lawn
I leaned against the opposite pillar, watching him for a second. I really shouldn't have poked the bear. I knew he was furious about being dragged into this whole setup, and the last thing I needed was to antagonize him further. But looking at him standing there, projecting absolute, unapologetic hostility, something in me just wanted to push his buttons.
"So," I started, letting a lazy, teasing drawl color my voice, "what is it that you actually do besides standing around looking pretty?"
As soon as the words left my mouth, I mentally kicked myself.
*Smooth, Joss. Real smooth.*
I hadn't actually planned on saying it out loud, let alone letting him know that I found his entire aura even his annoyed, hostile vibe stunningly attractive. More than that, I knew I was actively ragebaiting him. I was poking at a live wire just to see the sparks fly.
And the worst part? I was enjoying every single second of it.
Gawin’s head whipped around so fast I thought he'd give himself whiplash. His dark eyes flared, narrowing into a lethal glare that could have melted glass. The sweet undertone of his scent spiked just a fraction, riled up by pure irritation.
"Excuse me?" he snapped, his voice dropping an octave as he pushed off the railing and took a step toward me.
"Did you seriously just say that? Are you out of your mind?"
I couldn't help the smirk that spread across my face. I raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly just to test his boundaries. "I mean, it's a valid question. You walked into your own arranged marriage meeting wearing oversized sleepwear and looking like you wanted to murder me with your bare hands. I figured I'd ask about your other hobbies."
"My hobby is trying to figure out how to fast forward through this exact conversation so I can go back to my studio and never look at you again," Gawin shot back, his chest heaving with indignation.
"I'm a music producer, for the record. Not a decorative houseplant for your corporate collection. So you can take your little remarks and.."
He stopped himself, letting out a sharp huff of breath and turning his face back toward the garden, his jaw working as he swallowed down a string of choice curse words.
I stood there, fighting back a laugh. The alpha instincts in my chest were humming with a strange, undeniable thrill. He was sharp, prickly, and completely unimpressed by my status.
I watched as Gawin turned back around, his hands balling into tight fists inside the massive pockets of his hoodie. He looked ready to physically throw me off the balcony, and honestly, I couldn't even blame him. But watching him bristle like an angry cat was entirely too entertaining to let go so easily.
I pressed a hand dramatically over my chest, letting out a soft sigh.
"Ouch,"
"How can you talk to your soon to be husband and the most important and handsome CEO in the room like that? You're breaking my heart, Gawin. It actually hurts."
For a solid second, Gawin just stared at me, his mouth parting slightly as his brain tried to process the sheer magnitude of my sarcasm. Then, the disgust washed over him in full force. His nose crinkled, and he pulled a face so intensely repulsed it looked like he had just swallowed a mouthful of sour lemons.
"Are you actually listening to yourself right now?" Gawin hissed, his voice trembling with a mixture of sheer disbelief . He took another step closer, invading my space entirely, his chest almost brushing against mine as he glared straight up into my eyes. "Your soon to be husband? Are you delusional, or did you hit your head on the way into the house? I wouldn't marry you if you were the last alpha on the face of the planet!"
I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past my lips, completely unbothered by his hostility.
"Come on, don't be like that. We're practically family already. Think of the synergy our companies would have. Plus, think of how entertaining our arguments would be at breakfast."
"I would rather choke on a spoon than share breakfast with you," Gawin snapped back, his eyes flashing with lethal intent. The sweet jasmine scent of his omega pheromones spiked sharply, cutting through the night air, laced with genuine irritation that only made my alpha instincts lean in closer.
"And don't flatter yourself with that 'most CEO like' garbage. You look like a trust fund baby playing dress up, and you act like an absolute menace. Do you ever turn the charm off, or is being an insufferable narcissist a full time job for you?"
"Oh, it's a full time job," I replied smoothly, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips as I held his furious gaze. "And honestly? Based on your performance tonight, I think I'm exceptionally good at it."
Gawin let out a low, strangled growl of pure frustration, before turning sharply on his heel and storming back toward the doors of the house.
My chest felt suspiciously light, a low, satisfied hum vibrating through my veins.
But then the reality hitted me that no amount of seductive smell and pretty face can make me like Gawin as he was the son of the Steve Caskey the biggest traitor and manipulator.
(GAWIN)
The heavy glass doors slid open, and I marched straight back into the living room, my blood still boiling.
My father and mother were sitting comfortably on the velvet sofa, sipping tea as if they hadn't just arranged to sell me off to the highest corporate bidder. Joss entered a second later, looking entirely too relaxed, wearing that same insufferable, amused smirk that made me want to scream.
"Ah, you're back," my father said, looking up from his cup. His eyes flicked over my ridiculous outfit with a brief, disapproving frown, but he decided not to comment in front of our " so called guest."
He cleared his throat and continued, "We’ve finalized the timeline. The wedding will take place in a year."
I froze. A year? I opened my mouth to argue to demand why we were rushing into a lifetime sentence when Joss beat me to it.
"Actually," Joss chimed in, his smooth voice cutting across the room. He stepped up beside me, resting his hands casually in his trouser pockets. "Let's push the actual engagement ceremony to happen only one month before the wedding. We need a bit of time to get to know each other first, after all."
I whipped my head around to stare at him, my jaw dropping.
Get to know each other? Is that what he called pushing my buttons until I wanted to commit murder?
My father blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden amendment. He looked over at Joss , then at my mother, before letting out a reluctant, sigh. "Very well. If you believe a buffer period is necessary... we can agree ."
After a few more minutes of agonizingly polite small talk, Joss finally made his move to leave. He offered a charming, sickeningly perfect smile to my parents, bidding them a warm goodbye.
Walk him out my mother sigmalled to me suddenly, casting a sharp, pointed look in my direction that meant don't you dare embarrass me further, go say goodbye properly .
I let out a heavy, long suffering groan under my breath, but dragged my feet . I stood by the open front door, crossing my arms defensively over my hoodie, watching as Joss stepped out onto the porch into the cool night air.
Instead of just getting into his car and driving away like any normal person, Joss paused right at the edge of the steps, turning back around with that slow, teasing smile playing on his lips. He took a deliberate, unhurried step back toward me, closing the distance between us.
The closer he got, the more the rich, heavy scent of his alpha pheromones rolled over me pine and sharp cedarwood, cutting right through my nose.
"What?" I snapped, my voice sharp as I instinctively took a step back, my spine hitting the heavy wooden doorframe. "Didn't you already say goodbye? The exit is right there, Mr Narcissist."
Joss just chuckled, a low, warm sound that made my stomach do a deeply unwelcome flip. He stopped just inches away, invading my personal space entirely
"Just wanted to make sure my fiance knew how much I'm looking forward to our little get
to know each month," he murmured softly, his gaze dropping to my face for a fraction of a second before meeting my eyes again.
"Try not to miss me, Gawin."
I scowled, shoving a hand against his chest to push him back. "Get lost, Joss."
He laughed again, stepping back down the stairs with a wave before sliding into his car. I slammed the front door shut, pressing my back against it, and let out a long, exhausted breath.
One year I thought, staring up at the ceiling.
How am I going to survive a whole year of this?