Empire of Desire: An Alpha’s Financial Reign - Chapter 27

Late into the night, high atop the gleaming headquarters of the group’s corporate tower, Han Zaijing remained immersed in work. The office was quiet save for the soft hum of the central air and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards. Opposite her sat Jiang Shutong, her trusted partner in development, who had likewise chosen to stay behind and push through the latest strategic review.

Han Zaijing’s eyes stayed fixed on the financial proposal in front of her. Unlike the intuitive models she usually preferred, this fund’s capital operation strategy relied heavily on data analytics and derivative projections. It required more than instinct—it demanded rigorous calculation and relentless focus.

With a sigh, she loosened the collar of her tailored shirt and took a slow sip of coffee, letting the bitter warmth chase away the fatigue creeping into her muscles. She activated her financial software, fingers dancing over the calculator as she verified the projected numbers line by line.

Across the table, Jiang Shutong glanced up during a momentary break and found herself watching her. Under the dim golden light, Han Zaijing appeared sharply defined—her jaw tense, brows furrowed in concentration, the faint crease between them deepening with thought.

There was something undeniably compelling about her in this state. Confidence radiated from her composure, and her discipline was visible in every motion. Even after working sixteen-hour days, she maintained a clean diet, exercised regularly, and never let her attention waver. It was rare to see a woman so completely in control of both body and mind.

Still waiting for the system’s analysis to finish, Han Zaijing reached for the thick stack of documents beside her—one of the group’s major business plans, directly tied to its IPO ambitions. The stakes were enormous. Her vision for the company’s future rested on every clause and calculation.

As she zeroed in, focusing harder and harder, something unfamiliar stirred within her. A wave of heat flushed through her body, not the kind brought on by caffeine or stress, but something more primal.

Her breathing grew shallow. The air felt heavier. Her skin began to tingle—subtly at first, then more insistently. A low itch bloomed beneath her skin, the kind that no scratch could ease. She pressed her palm to her forehead, attempting to cool himself down, but the sensation only intensified. She knew this feeling. The onset was unmistakable.

Her susceptible period was approaching.

The pheromone imbalance—something she had long learned to suppress—was creeping up on her now, its timing cruel and unrelenting. Her heart raced faster with each breath, and a need stirred inside her, illogical yet overwhelming.

Looking up, she saw Jiang Shutong immersed in the screen, her face glowing softly in the monitor’s light. A calm presence. A known remedy.

Han Zaijing stood and approached her, the edge of tension now evident in the way she carried herself—restrained, yet charged with energy.

“My susceptible period is starting,” she said, voice low but steady. “Can you stay with me?”

Her face was pale under the artificial light, nose straight, lips thin and bloodless, and yet, as the heat rose from within, there was an unmistakable wildness beginning to break through the calm—an almost dangerous intensity.

Without a word, Jiang Shutong nodded. She understood.

She disappeared into the shower first. When she emerged, still drying her damp hair with a towel, Han Zaijing had already bathed and was waiting for her by the bed, her figure silhouetted against the soft ambient light of the lounge. The atmosphere between them changed the moment their eyes met. Heat shimmered in the air like summer haze.

Jiang Shutong’s cheeks flushed. Her hair was still dripping, but there was no time to dry it. Han Zaijing closed the distance between them swiftly, her restraint unraveling.

She pressed her down gently, but with urgency, capturing her lips in a deep, consuming kiss. Her movements were both practiced and instinctive—tongue teasing along the edges of hers, coaxing, tasting, claiming. Her fingers explored her skin with a fevered precision, tracing every curve with the impatience of someone holding back a storm.

The suppression patch she normally wore had been discarded. Without it, her scent—the clean, sharp notes of cedar—flooded the room, enveloping them both. Jiang Shutong’s omega pheromones responded instinctively, her citrusy notes rising to meet her in an intoxicating swirl. The two scents mingled and clung to the air like heat and rainfall.

Their bodies moved with synchrony born of familiarity and chemistry. She wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her closer, lips brushing her again. They kissed deeply, hungrily, tongues entwining, as if trying to drink in one another’s essence.

The hours that followed blurred into sensation and breath—whispers, touches, gasps shared under dim light and rising warmth. Everything else—the boardroom, the documents, the strategies—faded into silence.

Eventually, the fire between them softened into quiet intimacy. Their bodies lay close, hearts slowly settling, breaths in sync.

For a moment, the world was still.