The long drive back to his main estate was a blur. Avery leaned against the cool leather seat, one hand pressed against his temple, his breathing slow and deliberate. The car's interior still carried faint traces of Jay's scent from earlier, and he could feel the beginnings of agitation stirring under his skin. He wouldn't risk it. Not tonight.
Before they reached the gates, he'd already decided. Jay would be sent elsewhere.
"Miss Reed," Avery said quietly, his voice firm despite the exhaustion seeping into it. "Take Jay to the east estate. Stay with him. Make sure he has everything he needs."
She glanced at him through the rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing slightly in silent question, but she didn't push. "Understood, sir."
By the time the convoy split, one car veering toward the smaller, more secluded property where Jay would be housed, Avery's mind was already on the sanctuary of his own home.
It was close to two in the morning when he finally stepped inside the main house. The halls were dark except for the soft golden glow of the sconces, shadows stretching long across polished floors. The estate was quiet; Noël had already gone to bed.
He went straight to his bedroom, his movements brisk but controlled. The familiar scent of the space grounded him, and he crossed to the small cabinet by the wall, pulling out a vial of rut suppressant. The metallic tang of the liquid lingered briefly in his mouth before fading, and a slow exhale left his chest. The burn in his veins dulled to a manageable thrum.
Control was returning—thin, but enough.
He stripped down and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over his shoulders and down his back. Steam filled the space, clouding the glass and softening the edges of his thoughts. By the time he stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist, the relentless tightness in his body had eased.
He lay back against the crisp sheets, eyes half-lidded. It was only then, in the quiet of his room, that he realized the faint trace of Noël's pheromones lingered in the air—warm, steady, and strangely soothing. He didn't know if Noël had released more pheromons in the room or it was just his rut acting up, but it worked. His muscles loosened, his breathing deepened, and before he could think too much about it, sleep pulled him under.
_______
The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted up to the second floor the next morning, coaxing Avery from slumber. He rose, showered, and dressed in a tailored charcoal suit as a habit, even when no meetings were scheduled. By the time he descended the wide staircase, the soft clink of plates and utensils reached his ears.
In the kitchen, Noël was moving with practiced ease, plating food on the long counter. His blond hair caught the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows, and the domestic scene was almost disarming in its simplicity.
"Good morning," Noël greeted without looking up. "Sit. It's ready."
Avery obliged, settling into a seat at the head of the table. The spread before him was unmistakably intentional—one of his favorite breakfasts: soft scrambled eggs, fresh greens, lightly buttered toast, and the spiced tea he preferred in the mornings.
"You're in a good mood," Avery observed, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.
"I thought you might need it," Noël replied simply. "You've been… different these past few days." He set down a small dish before taking the seat opposite. "I don't know why, but I figured I could at least make your morning easier."
Avery studied him for a moment, then nodded once in acknowledgment. "Thank you."
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Noël spoke again. "How was the event? Everything going according to plan?"
"Yes," Avery said, cutting into a slice of toast. "Exactly as I intended. I expect to hear from my father soon. If not today, then within the week. He won't be able to ignore what happened last night."
Noël's lips quirked in a faint smile. "I saw the pictures online. The articles too."
Avery didn't look up from his plate. "And?"
"I'm not jealous anymore." The words were calm, with no trace of defensiveness. "I just… decided to trust you. If that's how you wanted to play it, then I'll stand by it."
That earned him the smallest flicker of surprise in Avery's eyes, though it was gone in an instant.
Noël glanced toward the empty hallway, then frowned. "Where's Jay? I didn't see him in the house this morning."
Avery didn't pause in lifting his cup. "He wanted some time alone, so I sent him to another property."
It was an easy lie, delivered smoothly. Noël didn't need to know the real reason—not yet. The truth was that Avery couldn't risk another omega in close proximity while his rut was circling the edges of control. His reactions were unpredictable, and he refused to put Jay, or anyone through that.
Noël, though, was different. For reasons Avery didn't fully understand, the omega's presence didn't aggravate his instincts; it eased them. As long as Noël was near, the sharp bite of his rut dulled into something he could keep contained. At least for now.
And so, Avery sipped his tea, meeting Noël's gaze across the table with calm certainty, as if everything was exactly as it appeared.
_________
The morning sunlight filtering through Avery's office blinds felt sharper than usual, like it was trying to expose the weight sitting on his shoulders. He'd been at his desk for an hour, eyes scanning through financial reports and shortlists of potential contacts from the gala. The suppressant in his system dulled the restless heat gnawing at the edges of his control, but it also left him feeling heavier, as if every movement required more focus than it should.
The phone on his desk rang. The caller ID made him pause.
His father.
Avery picked up, leaning back in his chair. "Father."
The voice on the other end was cold, measured, but laced with fury. "You've lost your mind."
Avery said nothing, letting the silence draw out.
"You went public with that relationship," his father continued, each word clipped like a knife. "Do you have any idea what this does to the arrangement we've been working on? What will people think if you suddenly marry someone else after announcing this to the world?
"That's precisely the point," Avery said smoothly.
His father's voice rose, the ice giving way to heat. "Do not play games with me. I will not let you have your way anymore." And who is that new omega? Weren't you with that orphan a few days ago?"
Avery listened without flinching, his expression unreadable. He'd predicted this exact confrontation when he told the world about Noël. His father was predictable in one thing. He cared too much about the Cheng family's public image to risk scandals. The fake relationship was a delay tactic, nothing more. The longer he could stall, the more time he had to secure foreign investors and strengthen the foundations of his private company.
"You're making a mistake," his father snapped before ending the call.
The silence that followed was short-lived. Within an hour, Avery's personal assistant confirmed it. His father had cut off every source of income connected to the Cheng Corporation that Avery had been using to fund his projects.
Avery didn't panic. He'd been ready for this.
Years of working under his father had taught him to prepare for the worst, and he'd quietly siphoned portions of his earnings into a completely separate account—one his father had no access to. It was intended for overseas investments, but now it would serve a different purpose: keeping him afloat.
The account was well-fed, enough to sustain him for at least five years, even with his refined tastes. If he lived modestly—well, modest for him—it could stretch over a decade. But Avery wasn't planning to coast. He was going to move fast.
He picked up the phone again, scrolling through the list of promising investors from the gala. Normally, contacting them so soon after the event would feel rushed, even desperate. But he didn't have the luxury of slow pacing. His father had just cut the clock in half, and every hour mattered now.
By midday, three meetings were scheduled for the week. Two of them were foreign investors he was sure his father couldn't easily interfere with. The third was a domestic contact who had a reputation for independence and a disdain for old-money interference.
In the early afternoon, Avery headed to the hospital. The suppressant he'd taken the night before was already losing its bite; the heat was beginning to hum low in his veins again. The doctor examined him with a slight frown before preparing a stronger injection.
"This will help for about two weeks," the doctor said as the needle slid into Avery's arm. "But you don't want to keep pushing your body like this. Playing with your cycle will have consequences."
Avery gave a small, dismissive smile. "Two weeks is enough."
He wasn't lying. Two weeks was the window he needed to close deals, secure funding, and reinforce his company's independence. After that, he'd find a way to deal with the rut.
The suppressant cooled him instantly, the heat receding to a manageable whisper. But with the quiet came another pull—a craving. Not for relief in the physical sense, but for Noël's scent.
By the time Avery arrived home, the usual walls he kept between himself and others had softened. He walked into the living room and found Noël there, quietly reading. Without a word, Avery stepped forward, wrapped his arms around him from behind, and pressed his face against the curve of Noël's neck.
Noël stilled, surprised by the sudden display of affection, then relaxed into the embrace.
"You're home early," Noël murmured.
"Not much to do," Avery replied truthfully, though he didn't mention the reason. With the Cheng Corporation's accounts closed to him, most of the documents and responsibilities were now being rerouted to his father. It was an inconvenience for the company, but to Avery, it was an unexpected gift—more hours to devote to his own plans, and to Noël.
Avery didn't let go. The scent, the warmth, the subtle steadiness of the omega's presence soothed something inside him. His voice, usually measured and cool, came out softer. "Stay here for a while."
Noël gave a small smile and turned the page of his book without arguing.
And so, Avery stayed, the sound of turning pages and the steady rhythm of Noël's breathing weaving a rare moment of calm in the storm he was about to navigate.