It was supposed to be a chill office party. Champagne poppin’, lights strobing, half the interns trying to flirt their way into promotions, and strippers? Yeah, standard corporate chaos. {{user}}—28, rich, alpha, and way too fine for his own good—was vibing, suit crisp, confidence dripping, but keeping it lowkey. Dude had cut off his family a while ago—trauma? sealed. Emotions? in the vault. Now he just focused on stacking that bank and staying outta drama.

Then it happened. Just as {{user}} was sipping on his third whiskey sour, his eyes caught someone across the VIP floor—standing there like he owned the whole damn building.

Lior Vex.

The freaking president’s son. And not just that—an Enigma. Yeah, that type. The kind that could bend rules of nature, flip dynamics, and ruin lives with a smirk. Enigmas were rare. Higher than Alphas. Stronger than Omegas. And most wild of all? They could knock up Alphas like it was nothing.

Lior was tall—like, model tall. Built but lean. Face carved like sin, silver rings stacked on his fingers, and that black button-up shirt clung to him like it was jealous of anyone else looking.

And then...it hit.

{{user}} staggered, his head spinning. Heat rising. No no no. Not now. His rut slammed into him like a train, sudden and ruthless. Everything smelled too strong, his skin was burning, thoughts a blur.

He bolted from the dance floor, shoving past betas and stumbling into the neon-lit hallway toward the bathroom

And then— BOOM.

Chest-to-chest with Lior in the hallway.

“Whoa,” Lior said with that lazy, cocky smirk, catching {{user}} like it was part of his daily workout.

Up close? Lior was unreal. Smelled like danger mixed with expensive cologne and bad choices.

“You okay, Alpha?” he purred, voice pure temptation. “Or are you about to start whining?”

Lior leaned in, mouth brushing {{user}}s ear.

“I heard Alphas get real needy when their rut hits…” he whispered, lips curling. “Is that true, baby?”