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69.56% Oddity's Charm ( Omegaverse BL) / Chapter 16: Don't hate it

Chapitre 16: Don't hate it

I sit at my desk, my gaze falling on the handful of magazines scattered across its surface. Each one features a face or figure that doesn't quite match the man I've been searching for—my Ivan. According to the background search, he's been in the modeling world, but these? These are small-time castings, hardly worthy of someone with his beauty, his presence.

It's baffling, considering he had a sponsor. One of those nouveau-riche types. The Blacks, wasn't it? Their heir—Donald? Derrick? Doesn't matter. He had the means, the connections, to make Ivan a household name, to set him ablaze across the brightest stages and screens. And yet, here I am, piecing together fragments of his past like a puzzle. If he'd been the star he deserved to be, I would have found him sooner. I would've plucked him away from his grasp and claimed him as mine.

Such is the way of this world—the bigger fish always wins.

I glance at my phone, frustration bubbling as I see his silence yet again. Ivan has been ignoring my texts, leaving my words unanswered, my attempts to bridge the gap hanging in the void. But at least the man I sent to watch over him is doing his job, sending me updates and photos. I know Ivan is safe, even if he insists on keeping me at arm's length for now.

I exhale, leaning back in my chair, my mind drifting to the plans I've made for tomorrow. Tomorrow. The day I've been waiting for, the moment I've yearned for since we parted. Tomorrow, I'll finally see him again. I'll hold him in my arms, where he belongs, and remind him that he doesn't need to run from me.

***

It's a hectic day at work. Friday afternoons are always busy, but today feels especially chaotic. Why is it so packed in this small town anyway? And it's only 1 PM.

I weave through the crowded tables, balancing plates as I rush to take orders. My patience is already wearing thin, made worse by the lecherous stares from some of the alphas in the room. I grit my teeth, suppressing the urge to slam these gourmet plates into their smug faces. Professionalism, Ivan. Just make it through the day.

"Ivan, boss is asking for you," Jane calls as I pass her near the kitchen, arms laden with a stack of empty plates.

Curious, I set the plates down and head toward the back hallway, stopping in front of the boss's office. As I approach, I notice a man standing outside the door. He's dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit and wearing sunglasses—indoors. He's tall, broad, and bald, his imposing aura making the narrow hallway feel even smaller.

"Hello," I say, giving the door a soft knock as I step inside.

"You have the day off," the man states bluntly, his tone gruff and final.

I blink, taken aback. "Uhm, okay?" I manage, though his cold, dismissive glance makes it clear there's no room for questions. So much for an explanation.

I turn to leave, but as I step back into the hallway, the man follows and pulls something from his jacket—a neatly folded note. He hands it to me with both hands, his movements rigid and precise. Intrigued, I take it, unfolding the paper carefully.

"As repercussions for stealing my tie and ignoring me these past two days, I sentence you to a date with me."

A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it, and for once, I don't even bother trying to hide it. My mysterious alpha.Only he could send something this ridiculous and make it sound so commanding.

"Follow me," the man orders, his thick Russian accent catching my attention.

I glance at him, hesitating for just a moment before nodding. With a sigh, I leave the restaurant and trail behind him to the sleek black cars parked outside. The attention these things draw is absurd, but I love attention so I don't mind. The man opens the door to one of the cars, waiting for me like some kind of chauffeur.

I slide into the plush interior, trying not to act like this is a totally normal occurrence. As he gets into the driver's seat, I can't help but ask, switching to Russian, "Your accent—are you from the homeland?"

"Yes. I saw your features and thought so too, but I didn't know how to ask," he says, his stern demeanor softening.

As he speaks, my mind drifts momentarily. The author of this world was undeniably lazy—it's blatantly modeled after Earth. The countries that don't overlap in the plot still have their original names, but nothing here feels fully fleshed out. I'm fairly certain I'm in what would equate to America, but it's all frustratingly vague. The author couldn't even bother to name the place properly—just "Country A" or "City B." Lazy.

I refocus on the bald man as we continue chatting in Russian. His imposing presence fades with each exchange, replaced by a surprising warmth and eagerness to connect. It's almost endearing. The conversation flows effortlessly, and I find myself forgetting the chaos of the day for the first time in hours.

I chuckle at that, realizing how out of place this giant of a man suddenly looks, giddy and flustered like a child. We talk the entire drive, a strange warmth settling in my chest as I realize how easily the conversation flows between us.

When the car finally pulls up to my apartment, I glance outside to see not one but two sleek black vehicles parked conspicuously in front. Zander's handiwork, no doubt. Such an attention seeker. I shake my head, unable to stop the small grin forming on my face.

Honestly, I don't hate it. Not one bit.


L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS
Sofie_Vert01 Sofie_Vert01

I'm never locking this one, so any support is okay. If not that's okay too.

next chapter

Chapitre 17: Survive

I step into my modest apartment, immediately noticing the front door ajar. I won't even ask how it's been unlocked—. The space isn't much, just a cozy three-bedroom, but it's always been enough for me. I close the door behind me, letting the familiarity of home settle me for a moment.

But that comfort doesn't last long.

I find myself drawn to my bedroom, and when I push open the door, my breath catches. There he is—my mysterious alpha, sitting in the corner of my bed, bathed in the soft afternoon light streaming through the window. I'd seen glimpses of his face before, enough to know he was handsome, but this... seeing him in full? It's overwhelming. He's tall, broad, and so impossibly out of place in this room, in his sharp, tailored suit. He looks like he belongs on the cover of some luxury magazine, not perched casually on my humble bed.

His head lifts as I enter, and his lips curve into a slow, devastating smile.

My heart stutters.

I fight the embarrassing urge to drop to my knees and arch my back right then and there, blame it on these damn hormones. They've been driving me crazy lately.

"You're awfully comfortable in someone else's apartment," I manage to say, folding my arms as I lean against the doorframe. I'm suddenly hyper-aware of my work uniform—wrinkled from the long shift and not remotely flattering. I try to ignore the insecurity gnawing at me, brushing my hair behind my ear in an attempt to look more put together.

"You gave me permission when you asked me to find you," he replies smoothly, leaning back on the bed. His legs spread slightly, claiming the space with an easy confidence that makes the room feel smaller.

In his left hand, he produces something familiar—a tie. The tie I stole from him months ago. He dangles it lazily, the glint in his eyes teasing and predatory all at once.

"So, what's my reward, your highness?" he asks, his voice a low, silky drawl, that makes my stomach twist in ways I don't want to admit.

I snort, trying to play it cool. "It's null and void. It's been months. Statute of limitations and all that." I stride toward him, reaching for the tie, determined to snatch it back.

But Zander is faster. He grabs my wrist, pulling me forward until I stumble into his lap. My breath hitches as I steady myself, my palms bracing against the hard planes of his chest.

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," he murmurs, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "And unfortunately for you, whether you've changed your mind or not... I haven't."

His gaze is intense, consuming, and I swear I feel myself melting under its weight.

"You're even more beautiful than I remember," he says, his voice softer now as his thumb brushes across my cheek.

I roll my eyes, though my pulse is racing. "Liar. I'm sweaty and gross from work."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." His thumb moves to my bottom lip, lingering there with an intimacy that sends a shiver down my spine.

I force myself to stand, pulling away from his hold before I lose what little composure I have left. His expression darkens, irritation flickering briefly across his face. I hide my smirk, pretending not to notice.

"So," I say, clearing my throat and turning toward the window, "what's the plan? Surely you didn't orchestrate my day off just to stare at me in my cramped apartment?"

He sighs, leaning back against the bedframe. "We're going out."

I raise a brow, glancing back at him. "Out? I don't have clothes for anything fancy, if that's what you're thinking."

"I've taken care of that," he says, gesturing toward a pile of shopping bags at the foot of the bed. How had I missed those? Oh, right—he had completely distracted me.

"Well, I'd like to take a shower and change first," I say pointedly.

Zander doesn't move. Instead, he crosses his arms, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint challenge.

We stare at each other for a moment, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Finally, he relents, standing to his full height. He towers over me, his presence so commanding it's almost suffocating, but in the best way.

"Fine. Take all the time you need," he says, his voice low, brushing past me as he heads toward the door.

As he passes, his hand grazes mine, the touch fleeting but electric. It sends a jolt through me, leaving my skin tingling in its wake.

I watch him go, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air long after he's left the room. It's intoxicating.

I exhale slowly, pressing a hand to my racing heart. Whatever tonight has in store... I'm not sure I'll survive it.


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