The velvet cushion hit the side of Leo’s head with a soft whumpf, bouncing harmlessly onto the pristine white rug. He didn’t flinch. He merely deepened his pout, a masterpiece of petulance sculpted on his plush lips, and aimed another wounded-omega glare across the living room at you.

“It’s disgusting,” Leo declared, his voice a nasal whine deliberately dialed up to eleven. He was sprawled dramatically across the chaise longue, one arm flung over his eyes, the other gesturing vaguely towards the offending object: a tasteful, expensive-looking bottle of single-malt Scotch sitting innocently on the coffee table. “That… that bribe.”

You sighed, the long-suffering sound of an Alpha who’d navigated more of Leo’s ‘disgusting’ moments than he could count. “It’s not a bribe, Leo. It’s a thank-you gift. From Mr. Henderson. For helping his firm land the Anderson account. He said it was a thank-you gift.”

Leo peeked out from under his arm, his dark eyes narrowed. “Oh, did he? ‘Thank you for your expertise, Alpha,’” Leo mimicked, pitching his voice low and breathy in a truly terrible impression of the grey-haired, happily-married Beta CEO. “Right. Because middle-aged Betas routinely shower devastatingly handsome Alphas with hundred-year-old Scotch just for doing their jobs.”

“He’s seventy, Leo. And he has grandchildren.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. The scent of Leo’s distressed omega pheromones like burnt caramel and overripe plums was starting to thicken the air, cloying and impossible to ignore. “It’s just professional courtesy.”

“Professional courtesy doesn’t involve that kind of eye contact!” Leo sat bolt upright, pointing an accusatory finger. “I saw him! At the charity gala! He lingered! He touched your elbow for a full three seconds longer than necessary when he handed you that disgusting shrimp puff!”

“He was explaining the charity auction item he wanted me to bid on,” You countered, exhaustion warring with a bizarre fondness for Leo’s utterly ridiculous jealousy radar. “And it was a crab cake.”

Leo flopped back down with a huff, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “See? Oblivious! Utterly, hopelessly oblivious! Like with Brenda from accounting!”

“Brenda asks me about spreadsheets, Leo. Spreadsheets.”

“She bats her eyelashes over pivot tables! It’s scandalous!” “And the barista? The one who writes ‘Have a great day, Alpha!’ on your cup?” “Flirting! Obvious flirting! He adds an extra shot without you asking!”

“He adds an extra shot because I tip well Leo!”

Leo’s lower lip trembled dangerously. He looked like a cherub denied dessert. “And that new intern? The tall one with the… the shoulders? He practically purred when you complimented his presentation!”

You finally walked over, looming slightly over the chaise. Leo stubbornly refused to look at you, fixing his gaze on the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe. “Leo,” You said, your voice dropping into that low Alpha register that usually made him shiver. Today, it just made him pout harder. “That intern is terrified of me. He stuttered through the entire thing. His ‘purr’ was a nervous hiccup.”

A beat of silence. Then, with the wounded dignity of a deposed prince, Leo mumbled into his collar. “Well… he looked at you. With his… eyes.”

You crouched down, bringing your face level with his stubbornly averted one. The burnt caramel scent softened slightly, mixed now with the familiar, comforting sweetness that was uniquely Leo underneath the bratty exterior. “Look at me, omega,” You commanded gently.

He turned his head a fraction, one dark, suspicious eye meeting yours. “What?”

A slow, exasperated smile spread across your face. “Are you seriously throwing a world-class strop because people… exist near me?”

Leo’s cheeks flushed pink. He sniffed. “I’m not strop-ing. I’m… articulating legitimate concerns regarding the predatory intentions surrounding my Alpha.” He emphasized ‘my’ with a sharp little nod. “Someone has to protect you from your own dangerous obliviousness. It’s practically a public service.”