The CEO's Hidden Omega

I slipped into Advanced Literature five minutes early, hoping to secure a seat near the back. The classroom was already half-full with students chatting in small clusters, their voices dropping to whispers as I entered. The morning's incident in the parking lot had left me rattled. My hand trembled slightly as I reached into my bag for another suppressant pill—an emergency dose. I'd never had to take them this close together before, but I couldn't risk another slip.

I chose a desk in the corner, far from the door, and arranged my notebook and pens with methodical precision. The familiar routine helped calm my nerves. I had a job to do here. I couldn't let one entitled Alpha derail five years of planning.

The classroom door swung open, and conversation instantly died. Adrian Blackwood strode in, his presence commanding attention without effort. My body tensed involuntarily as his gaze swept the room, then locked onto mine with laser precision. A small, satisfied smile curved his lips.

He approached the professor's desk, leaning in to speak quietly. The older man nodded several times, then consulted his seating chart. My stomach dropped.

"Miss Reyes," the professor called out, "there's been a slight change to the seating arrangement. You'll be moving to this desk here." He pointed to a seat in the middle of the room.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died in my throat as Adrian slid into the seat directly behind my new assigned desk. The bastard was actually smirking.

"Is there a problem?" the professor asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No," I managed, gathering my things. "No problem."

I could feel the curious stares of my classmates as I relocated. This wasn't part of the plan. I needed to be invisible, forgettable—not the subject of attention on my first day.

As the professor began his lecture on Shakespearean tragedy, I tried to focus on taking notes about the families I was investigating. The Blackwoods owned the largest pharmaceutical company in the country, with suspicious ties to experimental drug trials. The Montgomerys controlled media outlets that had helped bury the story of my mother's death. The Chens...

A warm breath tickled the back of my neck. "You smell different now," Adrian whispered, his voice so low only I could hear it. "But I know what you are."

My pen froze mid-sentence. I forced myself to keep writing, to show no reaction, even as my heart hammered against my ribs.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered back, not turning around.

"Liar," he murmured, the word caressing my skin like a physical touch. "What's your game, Luna Reyes? If that's even your real name."

I gripped my pen tighter. How could he possibly suspect? I'd been so careful.

"My game is trying to pass this class," I hissed. "So shut up."

Instead of being offended, he chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "Feisty for an Omega."

For the next forty-five minutes, I felt his presence like a physical weight against my back. He didn't speak again, but he didn't need to. I could feel him leaning forward occasionally, breathing deeply, cataloging my scent. By the time the bell rang, my shoulders ached from tension, and my notes were a jumbled mess of half-formed thoughts.

I bolted from my seat the moment we were dismissed, but Adrian's voice followed me to the door.

"See you at lunch, Luna."

It wasn't a question. It was a claim.

* * *

The cafeteria buzzed with activity as I entered, tray in hand. I spotted Elena, my assigned roommate, sitting with a group of girls at a table near the windows. She caught my eye and gave a small wave, but I pretended not to see. The fewer connections I made here, the better.

I chose an empty table in the corner, spreading my notes across the surface to discourage company. I needed to regroup, to figure out how Adrian had seen through me so quickly. The suppressants should have masked my Omega scent completely. Unless...unless the formula was losing effectiveness. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

I was so lost in my worries that I didn't notice Adrian's approach until his tray clattered onto the table across from mine. The sound made me jump.

"This seat taken?" he asked, already sliding into the chair.

The air around us seemed to thicken as he deliberately leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. I watched, horrified and fascinated, as he dragged his wrist across the surface, marking the territory with his scent. It was such a primal, possessive gesture that several nearby students turned to stare.

"What do you want?" I demanded, keeping my voice low.

"Just getting to know our new scholarship student," he replied, his tone deceptively casual. "Where did you transfer from again?"