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There were, Sheng Shaoyou had discovered, certain disadvantages to being loved by an Enigma, and although he considered himself an intelligent man, someone who had successfully navigated corporate politics, survived his father's spectacularly questionable parenting decisions, and built a reputation formidable enough to make grown executives reconsider their life choices before entering his office, he was beginning to suspect that nothing in his education had adequately prepared him for the particular challenges of sharing his life with Hua Yong. This was not because Hua Yong was difficult to love. Quite the opposite, actually, which was perhaps the most infuriating part of the entire situation. Loving Hua Yong had become so natural that Shaoyou sometimes struggled to remember what his life had looked like before the younger man had inserted himself into it with the determination of someone who had identified a particularly desirable piece of real estate and decided that ownership was merely a matter of patience, strategy, and sufficient disregard for the previous owner's objections. No, the problem was that Hua Yong loved him with the same ruthless dedication he applied to everything else, and while Shaoyou found this devotion considerably more appealing when it manifested as warm breakfasts, carefully arranged schedules, and a husband who somehow remembered his preferences better than he remembered them himself, it became substantially less charming when that same husband decided that the rest of humanity was an unfortunate inconvenience standing between Sheng Shaoyou and his happiness.
For example, the unfortunate inconvenience currently standing on the opposite side of Shaoyou's desk.
“President Sheng, with all due respect, I believe you're overlooking a rather significant problem with the proposed acquisition, and if you would simply allow me to explain—”
“I have already considered the potential liabilities,” Shaoyou interrupted, keeping his voice deliberately even despite the faint pressure building behind his temples. “The financial department has prepared three alternative projections, and the legal team has reviewed the relevant contracts. What I am asking you to explain is why the preliminary report contains figures that contradict the documents submitted last Thursday.”
Director Liu opened his mouth.
Shaoyou raised one finger.
“Furthermore, if the discrepancy is the result of a clerical error, I would appreciate knowing why three separate departments failed to identify it before the proposal reached my desk. However, if the figures were deliberately adjusted to make the acquisition appear more profitable than it actually is, then we have an entirely different conversation ahead of us.”
Director Liu opened his mouth again.
And Hua Yong, who had been sitting quietly on the sofa beside the window for the better part of twenty minutes, finally looked up from his phone.
It was an extraordinarily small movement, one that would have escaped the attention of anyone unfamiliar with him. His thumb stopped moving across the screen, his eyelashes lifted, and the pleasant expression he had been wearing since arriving with Shaoyou's lunch disappeared beneath something considerably colder. There was no dramatic change in posture, no threatening gesture, and certainly nothing that could reasonably be described as an overt display of aggression. Hua Yong merely looked at the man interrupting his Alpha, considered the situation for approximately half a second, and apparently reached the conclusion that twenty minutes of listening to an incompetent executive argue with the person he loved was nineteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds too many.
The pheromones arrived without warning.
They did not flood the office or announce themselves through some theatrical display of overwhelming dominance. Hua Yong was far too skilled for that, and Shaoyou, who had learned through considerable personal experience that his husband possessed an almost offensive degree of control over his biological abilities, knew perfectly well that the subtlety was intentional. There was simply a sudden, unmistakable shift in the atmosphere, a pressure that seemed to settle directly over Director Liu's shoulders, accompanied by the faintest suggestion of Hua Yong's scent beneath the familiar fragrance of the office. It was enough to make the older Alpha stiffen, his unfinished sentence dying somewhere between his lungs and his throat as his instincts recognized something that his conscious mind had not yet managed to identify.
Silence descended.
Director Liu stared at the documents in his hands.
Shaoyou stared at Director Liu.
And Hua Yong, looking entirely satisfied with the improvement in his surroundings, turned his head toward his husband with an expression so sweet that Shaoyou immediately became suspicious.
“Go ahead,” Hua Yong said softly.
For several seconds, Shaoyou could only look at him.
The younger man smiled.
It was a beautiful smile. That was another of the disadvantages of loving Hua Yong: the man had an almost supernatural ability to look adorable immediately after committing an act that would have been considered deeply alarming in almost any other relationship. His eyes curved pleasantly, his mouth softened, and his entire expression conveyed the innocent encouragement of a devoted partner who wanted nothing more than to support his husband's professional endeavors. If Shaoyou had not personally witnessed the previous three seconds, he might even have believed it.
Unfortunately, he had witnessed them.
“Hua Yong.”
“Yes, Mr. Sheng?”
“Release him.”
Hua Yong blinked.
“Release whom?”
Shaoyou slowly closed his eyes.
He loved this man.
He truly, desperately, embarrassingly loved this man.
There were days when he wondered whether that particular fact ought to qualify as a medical condition.
“Hua Yong,” he repeated, opening his eyes again and fixing his husband with the sternest expression he could manage, “stop using your pheromones on my employees.”
The younger man's smile faltered, although not in the way Shaoyou might have hoped. Rather than displaying remorse, Hua Yong looked faintly disappointed, as though Shaoyou had objected to a perfectly reasonable household improvement.
“But he was interrupting you.”
“That is generally what happens during a discussion.”
“He interrupted you four times.”
“Because we were having a disagreement.”
“Five,” Hua Yong corrected after a moment's consideration. “He also interrupted you when you were explaining the third projection, but you were being very patient, so I didn't say anything.”
Shaoyou glanced toward Director Liu, who remained unnaturally still beside the desk, apparently attempting to determine whether breathing too loudly would constitute another interruption.
“Your restraint is deeply appreciated,” Shaoyou said dryly.
Hua Yong brightened.
“You're welcome.”
“That was sarcasm.”
“I know.”
Of course he knew.
Shaoyou pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose and wondered whether marrying an Enigma had permanently damaged his ability to maintain a respectable blood pressure.
“Enough. Let him go.”
Hua Yong sighed, the sound carrying the weary resignation of someone whose considerable generosity was being taken advantage of, and the oppressive presence vanished as quietly as it had appeared.
Director Liu inhaled sharply.
To his credit, he did not immediately flee the office, although the brief, involuntary glance he directed toward the sofa suggested that he was reconsidering every decision that had brought him into this particular room.
“Director Liu,” Shaoyou said, choosing to pretend that the previous exchange had been an entirely ordinary domestic disagreement rather than an incident involving the biological intimidation of a senior executive, “please have the revised report on my desk by tomorrow morning. We will continue this discussion once the figures have been verified.”
“Yes, President Sheng.”
“And Director?”
The man stopped halfway toward the door.
“Next time, allow me to finish speaking.”
Director Liu nodded so enthusiastically that Shaoyou briefly feared for his neck.
“Yes, President Sheng. Absolutely, President Sheng.”
The door closed behind him.
Silence returned.
This time, however, it was considerably less peaceful.
Shaoyou remained seated for several seconds, looking at the closed door while mentally counting the number of workplace regulations his husband had just violated. He eventually abandoned the exercise when he realized that the answer depended rather heavily on whether the company handbook had anticipated the possibility of an Enigma using pheromonal coercion to enforce conversational etiquette.
It probably had not.
Perhaps that was something he ought to rectify.
Behind him, the sofa creaked.
“Shaoyou?”
“No.”
“I haven't said anything.”
“I know what you're going to say.”
Hua Yong considered this.
“Then you already know that I brought your favorite dessert?”
Shaoyou turned around.
The younger man was holding a small paper bag, looking hopeful.
It was an extremely effective tactic, and Shaoyou resented the fact that Hua Yong knew it.
“Do not attempt to bribe me with dessert.”
“It's not a bribe.”
“Hua Yong.”
“I bought it before Director Liu arrived.”
“That doesn't make it better.”
“It means my intentions were pure.”
Shaoyou stared at him.
Hua Yong smiled again.
There was something profoundly unfair about the way that smile affected him. He had spent years learning to recognize manipulation, to distinguish genuine concern from calculated flattery, and to identify the precise moment someone attempted to influence his decisions through emotional pressure. Those skills had served him remarkably well in business. Unfortunately, none of them appeared particularly useful against a man who could openly admit to manipulating him, offer him a pastry, and somehow make the entire experience feel like an expression of love.
“Come here,” Shaoyou said.
Hua Yong obeyed immediately.
That, too, was suspicious.
He crossed the office with the unhurried grace of someone who had never doubted his welcome, placed the paper bag on the desk, and settled beside Shaoyou's chair, close enough that their knees touched. He did not attempt to sit on Shaoyou's lap, although the brief glance he directed toward it suggested that he had considered the possibility and decided to postpone the attempt until the conversation became less dangerous.
Shaoyou caught his wrist before he could reach for the dessert.
“Look at me.”
Hua Yong looked at him.
And there it was again, that terrible, familiar tenderness, the one that made it so difficult for Shaoyou to remain properly angry. Beneath the playful innocence and calculated sweetness, Hua Yong's attention possessed an intensity that still occasionally unsettled him, not because it was frightening, but because it was so complete. There had been a time when Shaoyou had mistaken that intensity for something temporary, an infatuation sharpened by pursuit and the satisfaction of obtaining something difficult. He knew better now. Hua Yong did not love in moderation, did not distribute his affection according to reasonable social expectations, and did not appear to understand why anyone would consider it necessary to reserve a portion of his concern for people who were not Sheng Shaoyou.
Which was precisely why they needed to have this conversation.
“You cannot do that again.”
Hua Yong's expression softened.
“Did I upset you?”
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate, and Shaoyou watched the younger man's smile disappear.
Not because he regretted frightening Director Liu, of course.
That would have been too much to hope for.
No, Hua Yong looked genuinely troubled because Shaoyou was upset, and the distinction was so obvious that it almost made the situation worse.
“I didn't mean to make you unhappy,” Hua Yong said quietly.
“I know.”
“Then—”
“But you did.”
Hua Yong lowered his eyes.
Shaoyou sighed, releasing his wrist only to take his hand properly, threading their fingers together beneath the edge of the desk. He felt the younger man's hand tighten around his almost immediately, the response so instinctive that it made something warm and helpless unfurl inside his chest.
“Listen to me. I know you weren't trying to hurt me. I know you thought you were helping. But Director Liu works for me, and whatever his shortcomings, he deserves to be treated fairly. If he makes a mistake, I will deal with it. If he interrupts me, I will tell him to stop. I do not need you to frighten him into silence.”
Hua Yong listened with the solemn attention of a student receiving an important lecture.
Then he asked, “What if he does it again?”
Shaoyou stared at him.
“Hua Yong.”
“What if he interrupts you six times?”
“That is not the point.”
“Seven?”
“Stop counting.”
“I'm only trying to understand where you draw the line.”
“The line is before you use your pheromones on someone because they annoy you.”
Hua Yong appeared to contemplate this.
Then, with the careful seriousness of someone proposing a reasonable compromise, he asked, “What if they annoy you?”
Shaoyou made a sound that was not quite a laugh and not quite a groan.
He was beginning to understand why certain people developed gray hair prematurely.
“You are impossible.”
“Only sometimes.”
“Frequently.”
“Only when someone bothers you.”
“That is frequently.”
Hua Yong nodded.
“Exactly.”
Shaoyou looked toward the ceiling.
He was not a particularly religious man, but he briefly considered asking whichever higher power governed romantic relationships whether this was some elaborate punishment for his younger self's arrogance.
Unfortunately, Hua Yong chose that moment to lean forward and rest his forehead against Shaoyou's shoulder.
The gesture was quiet, almost hesitant, and it disarmed Shaoyou far more effectively than any of the younger man's deliberate attempts at persuasion. He felt Hua Yong's breath through the fabric of his shirt, warm and steady, and the familiar scent of his pheromones settled around them, no longer sharp or threatening but gentle in a way that seemed reserved exclusively for him. It was difficult to reconcile that tenderness with the cold indifference Hua Yong had displayed toward Director Liu, although Shaoyou had long since accepted that the two were not contradictory. His husband was capable of extraordinary gentleness. He simply had a remarkably limited list of people upon whom he considered it worthwhile to bestow that quality.
“Shaoyou,” Hua Yong murmured.
“Hmm?”
“I really don't care about him.”
“I noticed.”
“Or anyone else who interrupts you.”
“I noticed that too.”
“I care about you.”
Shaoyou's irritation faltered.
Hua Yong lifted his head, and for once there was no teasing in his expression, no playful calculation or deliberate attempt to appear harmless. He simply looked at Shaoyou with the same unwavering devotion that had once seemed almost incomprehensible to him.
“When you work too much, you get headaches. When people waste your time, you skip lunch. When you skip lunch, you become tired, and then you come home pretending you're fine because you don't want me to worry. I don't like watching that happen.”
Shaoyou felt his chest tighten.
It was an absurd reaction, considering the circumstances. His husband had just admitted, with complete sincerity, that his preferred method of preventing Shaoyou from developing a headache was to terrorize the people responsible for causing it. There was nothing particularly romantic about workplace intimidation, and Shaoyou refused to become the kind of man who excused unacceptable behavior merely because the person responsible happened to love him.
Nevertheless, there was something painfully tender about being known so thoroughly.
Hua Yong had noticed the headaches.
He had noticed the missed lunches, the exhaustion, the small habits Shaoyou himself had dismissed as unavoidable consequences of his position. More importantly, he had apparently spent enough time worrying about those things to develop an entire philosophy concerning their prevention, albeit one that required substantial ethical revision.
“You could simply remind me to eat,” Shaoyou said at last.
“I do.”
“You could tell me when I'm working too much.”
“I do that too.”
“You could bring me lunch.”
Hua Yong glanced pointedly toward the paper bag.
Shaoyou followed his gaze.
Then he sighed.
“Yes. You do that as well.”
“I thought making the people who cause your headaches stop talking would be more efficient.”
“Efficiency is not the only consideration.”
“It should be when your health is involved.”
“Hua Yong.”
The younger man smiled faintly.
Shaoyou narrowed his eyes.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Very carefully.”
“And what have you learned?”
“That I should not use my pheromones to silence your employees.”
“Good.”
“Especially when you're watching.”
Shaoyou froze.
Hua Yong's expression remained perfectly innocent.
For one long, dreadful moment, Shaoyou considered the possibility that his husband had been deliberately provoking him all along, that the entire incident had been orchestrated for the sole purpose of obtaining his undivided attention. It would hardly have been the first time Hua Yong had employed questionable methods to achieve a perfectly domestic objective, and the younger man's current position, half leaning against his chair with their fingers intertwined, did little to discourage the suspicion.
“Especially when I'm—” Shaoyou stopped. “No. Absolutely not. That is not what I said.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you—”
“Because you look very handsome when you're angry.”
Shaoyou went silent.
Hua Yong looked pleased with himself.
“You also hold my hand when you're scolding me.”
Shaoyou glanced down.
Their fingers were still intertwined.
Traitorous fingers.
He released Hua Yong's hand immediately.
The younger man made a soft, wounded sound.
“Oh.”
Shaoyou closed his eyes.
There were many things he could withstand. Hostile negotiations, unreasonable shareholders, his father's opinions, and the occasional catastrophic financial report were all familiar challenges. He could even withstand Hua Yong's jealousy, provided it remained within the boundaries of civilized behavior.
What he apparently could not withstand was the sight of his husband looking genuinely disappointed because Shaoyou had stopped holding his hand.
“Don't,” he warned.
Hua Yong blinked.
“Don't what?”
“Make that face.”
“What face?”
“The one you're making right now.”
“I'm not doing anything.”
“You are doing it deliberately.”
Hua Yong lowered his eyelashes.
Shaoyou surrendered.
“Come here.”
The younger man needed no further encouragement.
He settled onto Shaoyou's lap with such practiced ease that the movement seemed less like an invitation being accepted and more like the restoration of the natural order of the universe. One arm slipped around Shaoyou's shoulders, his knees came to rest on either side of the chair, and before Shaoyou could remind him that they were still in his office, Hua Yong pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Then another.
And another.
“I'm still angry with you,” Shaoyou informed him.
“I know.”
“You haven't apologized.”
“I'm sorry I upset you.”
“That is not quite the same thing.”
Hua Yong considered this distinction for a moment.
Then he kissed Shaoyou's cheek.
“I'm sorry I frightened your employee.”
Shaoyou studied him.
“Are you?”
“I'm sorry you didn't like it.”
“Hua Yong.”
The younger man laughed softly, the sound warm against his skin, and Shaoyou found himself fighting an entirely inappropriate smile. It was not that he found the situation particularly amusing. It was simply that Hua Yong, who could make an experienced Alpha forget how to speak with nothing more than a carefully directed trace of his pheromones, was currently attempting to escape a lecture by rubbing his cheek against Shaoyou's neck like an affectionate cat.
An extraordinarily dangerous cat.
One with excellent financial instincts, a terrifying capacity for manipulation, and absolutely no respect for personal boundaries when those boundaries belonged to his husband.
Shaoyou wrapped an arm around his waist before he could slide any closer.
“Behave.”
“I am behaving.”
“You are sitting on me.”
“You invited me.”
“I invited you to come closer.”
“This is closer.”
“Hua Yong.”
“Shaoyou.”
The younger man drew back just far enough to meet his eyes, and something in his expression shifted, the playful sweetness giving way to a familiar, quietly possessive warmth. His fingers brushed the back of Shaoyou's neck, lingering where his pulse beat beneath the skin, and Shaoyou felt the faintest answering movement of his own pheromones before he could consciously restrain them. Hua Yong noticed, of course. He always noticed. His smile deepened, not triumphantly this time, but with the private delight of someone who had been given something precious.
“You love me,” Hua Yong whispered.
It was not a question.
Shaoyou could have denied it, if only for the satisfaction of watching his husband attempt to prove otherwise. He could have reminded him that affection was not a substitute for accountability, that love did not make every action acceptable, and that the next time he frightened a member of Sheng Group's senior management, Shaoyou would personally escort him out of the building.
Instead, he looked at the man sitting in his lap and remembered all the ways Hua Yong had changed his life.
The quiet mornings. The ridiculous arguments. The comfort of returning home to someone who wanted him there, not because he was President Sheng or an S-class Alpha or the heir to a powerful family, but because he was Sheng Shaoyou, a man who sometimes forgot to eat, worked too much, and had somehow become the center of another person's entire universe.
It was a frightening responsibility.
It was also, against all reasonable expectations, the happiest he had ever been.
“Yes,” Shaoyou admitted, tightening his arm around Hua Yong's waist. “Unfortunately, I do.”
Hua Yong beamed.
“Very much?”
“Don't push your luck.”
“More than yesterday?”
“Hua Yong.”
“Will you love me even more tomorrow?”
Shaoyou stared at him for a long moment.
Then he leaned forward and kissed him properly, slowly enough that the younger man's teasing smile disappeared beneath something considerably softer. Hua Yong's fingers tightened against his shoulders, and when Shaoyou drew back, the Enigma looked almost dazed, his usual composure briefly undone by the very affection he had spent so much effort securing.
“Probably,” Shaoyou murmured.
Hua Yong's expression turned radiant.
Shaoyou immediately regretted giving him ammunition.
“But,” he added firmly, “if you use your pheromones on another employee without a legitimate reason, you are going to apologize to them personally.”
Hua Yong's smile faded.
“Personally?”
“Yes.”
“In front of you?”
“Yes.”
The younger man considered this with visible distaste.
“What if I just buy them something?”
“No.”
“Give them a bonus?”
“No.”
“Transfer them to another department?”
“Hua Yong!”
“Fine,” Hua Yong sighed, resting his head against Shaoyou's shoulder again. “I'll behave.”
Shaoyou regarded him suspiciously.
“Promise?”
A pause.
Then, very softly, “I'll try.”
It was not the answer Shaoyou wanted.
It was, however, considerably more honest than any promise Hua Yong might have made simply to end the conversation, and Shaoyou had learned to appreciate honesty wherever he could find it.
“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss into the younger man's hair. “That's all I'm asking.”
For several minutes, they remained like that, surrounded by the quiet hum of the office and the faint afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows. Hua Yong seemed perfectly content to stay where he was, one hand resting over Shaoyou's heart, while Shaoyou found himself wondering whether he could reasonably postpone his next meeting long enough to enjoy the rare luxury of doing absolutely nothing.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message from his secretary appeared on the screen.
President Sheng, Director Liu has requested permission to attend tomorrow's meeting remotely.
Shaoyou stared at it.
Another message arrived.
He also asked whether the conference room has adequate ventilation.
Shaoyou slowly lowered the phone.
“Hua Yong.”
“Hmm?”
“What exactly did you do to Director Liu?”
The younger man lifted his head.
For a moment, he looked genuinely puzzled.
Then understanding dawned.
“Oh,” he said brightly. “Nothing serious.”
Shaoyou felt a headache approaching.
“Hua Yong.”
“I only reminded his instincts that interrupting you was a bad idea.”
“Reminded?”
“Very gently.”
Shaoyou stared.
Hua Yong smiled.
And then, because apparently there was no force in heaven or earth capable of teaching this particular Enigma the appropriate amount of remorse, he reached for the paper bag on the desk, retrieved the dessert he had brought, and held it out to his husband with the serene confidence of someone who believed that all domestic conflicts could ultimately be resolved through affection, strategic sweetness, and sufficiently good pastry.
“Would you like some cake, Shaoyou?”
Shaoyou looked at the cake.
He looked at Hua Yong.
He thought about Director Liu, about the company handbook, about the extraordinary absurdity of his marriage, and about the fact that the man offering him dessert had probably already begun calculating how to intimidate the entire board of directors without technically violating his promise.
Then he sighed, accepted the cake, and pulled his impossible husband closer.
“Yes,” he said. “And afterward, we're having another conversation about workplace ethics.”
Hua Yong kissed his temple.
“Of course, darling.”
Shaoyou did not believe him for a second.
He loved him anyway.
And somewhere on the other side of the building, Director Liu was drafting a formal request to have all future meetings with President Sheng conducted through email.
Which, Hua Yong would later argue, was proof that his intervention had been extremely efficient.
Unfortunately, Sheng Shaoyou refused to appreciate his genius.
Marriage, Hua Yong decided, required an extraordinary amount of patience.
Fortunately, he had plenty.
At least when it came to Sheng Shaoyou.