The car ride home was cloaked in thick, tense silence. Noah sat by the window, arms crossed and face turned away, clearly still sulking from the tailor shop incident. Alessio sat beside him, relaxed yet observant, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on the armrest. He didn't speak, but his eyes flicked to Noah occasionally, noting every pout and every shift in posture.
He didn't apologize. He never did. But his mind lingered on the image of Noah flushed and flustered under his touch.
As the sleek black car pulled up in front of the penthouse, Noah didn't wait. He opened the door the second it stopped and marched toward the elevator without a glance back.
"Noah," Alessio called out coolly as he stepped out behind him. Noah paused for a second, already inside the elevator.
Alessio's voice dropped an octave, low and firm. "Don't sulk."
The elevator doors slid shut between them.
---
Two days passed quietly.
Tuesday morning arrived with cold sunlight filtering through the tall windows of Alessio's penthouse. Noah was curled up in the guest bed, buried under the expensive covers, blinking lazily at the soft light. The apartment was quiet—too quiet.
He heard footsteps.
Alessio appeared in the doorway, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, black tie knotted perfectly at his throat, hair slicked back as always.
"I have a meeting downtown," Alessio said, voice clipped. "I'll be out for most of the day. Theo and Enzo might drop by to pick up some files. If they ring the bell, you let them in. No one else. Understand?"
Noah nodded wordlessly, not meeting his gaze.
Alessio frowned. "Noah."
"I heard you," he muttered, burying further under the blanket.
Alessio sighed. He left the room without another word.
Noah waited until the sound of the front door locking echoed through the hall. Silence followed. Cold, stretching silence. He stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours.
Why did it suddenly feel so lonely?
He threw the blanket off, grumbling as he sat up. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. His bare feet padded against the wooden floor as he crept toward the master bedroom. Alessio's scent still lingered in the air—dark, masculine, expensive.
Noah hesitated at the wardrobe, fingers grazing the handles. Slowly, he opened it. Rows of suits in blacks and grays. Starched shirts, silk ties.
He reached for one of the black shirts. Pressed, soft, warm from the scent.
He slipped it on. It was huge on him, swallowing his smaller frame. The sleeves fell past his fingers, the collar loose around his neck.
But he felt safe.
That strange scent—Alessio's alpha pheromones—calmed something anxious inside him. He didn't know why.
Noah padded to the living room, dragging a fluffy blanket behind him. He threw it over the couch, grabbed a bag of popcorn from the pantry, and crashed in front of the massive TV. For the first time in forever, he let himself relax. Just a little.
By the time the credits of the second movie rolled, popcorn was scattered across his lap and the shirt. Crumbs dotted the collar.
Ding-dong.
Noah jumped.
He remembered Alessio's words.
"Only open the door for Theo or Enzo."
He tiptoed to the security panel and checked the live cam.
It was Enzo.
He hesitated, then cracked the door open cautiously.
Enzo blinked at the sight of him. "...You answering the door in your Alpha's shirt?"
Noah looked down, realizing how he must look: hair messy, cheeks pink from the couch nap, oversized black shirt barely clinging to one shoulder.
"Shut up," he grumbled, holding out a brown envelope. "Alessio told me to give you this."
Enzo took it with a smirk. "You nesting already? Popcorn on his custom Dior shirt? Tsk tsk."
"It's comfortable!" Noah snapped. "And don't call it nesting. It's not like that."
"Sure it's not," came Theo's voice from behind Enzo. He peeked over his friend's shoulder, taking in the scene. "You look like a bird guarding his favorite hoodie."
"Do you two not have jobs?" Noah retorted, glaring.
Theo held up a phone. "We do. Boss needed this file for his meetings. Don't worry, angry bird. We're leaving."
Enzo leaned in slightly, voice teasing. "You miss him already?"
Noah shut the door in their faces.
---
In the heart of the city, Alessio sat at the head of a long obsidian conference table. The room buzzed with quiet tension. Screens glowed with charts and numbers, assistants clicking away on keyboards.
He adjusted his watch and leaned back.
His phone buzzed.
It was his mother.
He didn't pick up.
Then another message came through. One line.
Come home today. I need to talk. It's important.
Alessio's jaw flexed. He pocketed the phone.
But his eyes were stormy.