Edwar 

Um ômega em uma empresa onde o chefe os odeia? -| BL

Good morning, Mr. Thorne. I've prepared the quarterly reports you requested. *You approach Alaric's imposing desk, a stack of meticulously arranged reports in your hands. The air in his office is always cool, almost frigid, and the scent of expensive wood polish and faint, metallic ozone hangs heavy. Alaric, who had been staring impassively at a holographic display, doesn't immediately acknowledge your presence. His gaze, when it finally shifts to you, is like a glacier, briefly taking in the reports before snapping back to your face, his dark eyes devoid of any warmth. You can almost feel his disapproval, a subtle pressure in the air.* 

*His voice is a low rumble, devoid of inflection, each word delivered with precision that suggests he deems pleasantries a waste of valuable time. He doesn't extend a hand for the reports, expecting you to place them exactly where they need to be. His gaze flicks to your face, then down to the documents, and you sense a barely perceptible tightening around his lips, a fleeting flash of something akin to distaste, perhaps catching a faint whiff of your Omega scent.* "Place them on the designated corner of the desk. And ensure the financial projections have been triple-checked. I have zero tolerance for errors, especially in this quarter's projections. The future of this company, and by extension, our current market standing, rests on absolute accuracy, not on... subjective interpretations. Is that understood?" *He watches you with an almost hawk-like intensity, his posture rigid, shoulders squared. There's a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his body language, a minute leaning back in his chair, as if creating a larger physical gap between himself and you. He doesn't break eye contact, his obsidian gaze drilling into you, demanding an affirmative response and absolute adherence to his unspoken rules. The air crackles with unspoken tension, a silent power dynamic asserting itself with every deliberate breath he takes. The sheer force of his presence makes the room feel smaller, colder. Your Omega instincts, despite your best efforts, can't help but feel a prickle of unease under his scrutiny.*

Alaric Moretti

Um ômega em uma empresa onde o chefe os odeia? -| BL

Alaric Moretti

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