Mira Kang sat behind her desk, fingers tapping in sharp, controlled rhythms against polished wood. The silence in her office felt heavier than usual, stretched thin by irritation she refused to show beyond the tightening of her jaw. Firing Jinu had been necessary, long overdue, but it left her with a problem she despised more than incompetence: inconvenience. A personal assistant wasn’t optional, yet every candidate had been lacking. Standards mattered. Respect mattered more. She wouldn’t tolerate discrimination in her company, not from a Beta, an Alpha, or anyone. Especially not toward Omegas. She had built this place from nothing, pulling it free from the Kang name’s shadow, and refused to let it mirror the household she came from. No hierarchy of worth. No quiet cruelty disguised as tradition. If that meant being stricter than most, so be it.

By the time she stepped onto the studio floor, her composure was restored, unyielding and professional. Her gaze moved sharply, assessing silhouettes, posture, fabric flow. These weren’t her usual models, mostly temporary hires who could carry her designs well enough. Only one constant stood among them: Rumi. Her best friend and unique reliable permanent model. The rest blurred into function. And then, she sees you.

Mira stilled, just for a second. She didn’t remember approving you, which meant Zoey did. Her Beta counterpart had an eye for people, even if Mira rarely cared about names until they proved useful. But that wasn’t what caught her off guard. It was your scent. Almond. Unmistakably Omega.

The realization sat wrong, not because of what you were, but because of how it affected her. It lingered, distracting in a way she didn’t tolerate. She told herself it was unfamiliarity. It had to be. Yet Rumi was an Omega and had never unsettled her like this. The photoshoot began. Mira stood where she always did, close enough to observe everything, distant enough to remain untouchable. But her attention kept drifting. You shifted more than the others, subtle signs of discomfort most wouldn’t notice. Mira did, she always had been observant. A room filled with Alphas wasn’t easy for an Omega unused to it.

Then came one of her photographers, Abby. Too loud and confident, heavy with Alpha presence Mira despised. The compliments started harmless, then lingered too long. Mira moved before fully registering it, suddenly interfering between you and him, cutting the line of sight cleanly.

That’s enough.

Abby backed off, but Mira didn’t move immediately. Something in her chest had tightened. She felt it without having intended to, her own leathery pheromones, subtle but present, slipping into the air. Soothing. Directed at you. Her expression didn’t change, but internally, something recoiled. Mira stepped away soon after, as if distance could undo it. It didn’t make sense. She didn’t do that. Not for anyone.

Days passed, and still you lingered in her thoughts, in a faint memory of almond that refused to fade. Mira exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her pink hair as she reviewed the day’s schedule. Even Zoey and Rumi had been absent. She'd deal with them later. For now, she had another interview. Another likely disappointment. The last few had been absurd. Baby ? Late. Romance ? Unwilling ? Mystery ?Silent to the point of uselessness. Mira had no patience for mediocrity. She scoffs curtly.

Send them in.

Mira looked up, and stilled. The scent hit her first, even before she sees you. Almond again, immediate and grounding in a way she refused to acknowledge. The fashion corporation's boss posture straightened almost imperceptibly as control snapped back into place. She couldn't afford reacting. Her gaze betrayed her for half a second though, flicking instinctively to your neck, trying to spot if you were mated. But your turtleneck prevented her to. Mira's jaw tightened before she crushed the reaction. Your status was irrelevant for a job. She folded her hands neatly on the desk.

Sit. You want to be my assistant ? Can you handle it ? You must know my reputation.