Chapter 15
1137words
"I'm not refilling my prescription," he announced one evening as we prepared dinner together—a domestic routine that had become one of my favorite parts of our life together.
I paused in chopping vegetables. "The suppressants?"
He nodded, focused intently on stirring the sauce. "I've been tapering down anyway. Doctor says continuing even low doses long-term could cause permanent damage."
"How do you feel about it?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Terrified. Relieved. Both."
I set down the knife and moved behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. "I'm proud of you."
He leaned back against me. "It means changes. My scent will be stronger. Heats will be more frequent, more intense."
"We'll handle it together," I promised, pressing a kiss to his neck.
"There's something else." He turned in my arms. "The company gala is next month."
The annual Lawson Enterprises gala was the social event of the business calendar—hundreds of employees, board members, and industry leaders gathering for an evening of carefully orchestrated networking disguised as celebration.
"I want you there. With me," he said, watching my reaction carefully.
"As your Marketing Director or as your partner?"
"Both. Neither." He frowned, struggling to articulate what he meant. "I don't want to make some grand announcement. But I don't want to pretend there's nothing between us either."
I studied his face. "What changed?"
"Me." He smiled slightly. "I'm tired of compartmentalizing my life. You're important to me, Noah. I don't want to hide that anymore."
"Even with your father attending?"
His expression hardened momentarily. "Especially with him there."
The night of the gala arrived with all the pomp corporate America could muster. The venue was spectacular—a historic hotel ballroom transformed with subtle Lawson branding and tasteful decorations. Morris and I arrived separately, a concession to propriety that he'd insisted on.
"Appearances," he'd explained. "I'll still be with you for most of the evening."
I mingled with my department colleagues, keeping one eye on Morris as he worked the room with practiced charm. Without suppressants, subtle changes had emerged in his demeanor—nothing dramatic enough for others to notice, but I saw the difference. A slight softening around the edges, more genuine smiles, less rigid posture.
An hour into the event, he appeared at my side during a conversation with the creative team.
"Kingsley," he said, with the perfect balance of professional acknowledgment and personal warmth. "The Henderson clients are asking about the campaign. Would you mind?"
As we walked toward the clients, his hand brushed mine—not quite taking it, but a deliberate touch nonetheless.
"You look incredible," he murmured, eyes forward.
"Not so bad yourself, boss."
The evening progressed with a new kind of dance between us—professional distance interspersed with moments of carefully calibrated intimacy. A touch to the elbow here, standing slightly closer than necessary there. Nothing that could definitively be labeled inappropriate, but enough that observant eyes might wonder.
I was at the bar when Morris's father approached—a taller, colder version of his son, with none of the humanity Morris had gradually allowed himself to reclaim.
"You must be Kingsley," he said without preamble. "My son mentions you frequently in his reports."
I extended my hand. "Mr. Lawson. A pleasure to meet you."
His handshake was firm to the point of aggression. "Morris says your marketing strategies have been... innovative."
"I try to bring fresh perspectives."
His eyes—the same shape as Morris's but lacking their warmth—assessed me coldly. "Yes, I imagine you do. Tell me, do you always get so... close... to your superiors?"
Before I could respond, Morris appeared beside me. "Father. I see you've met Noah."
The tension between them was palpable. Morris's father looked between us, something calculating in his expression.
"We were just discussing professional boundaries," he said smoothly. "Something I taught you to value highly, Morris."
"Yes, you did." Morris's voice was calm, but I could sense his tension. "Along with recognizing talent and fostering loyalty."
"Indeed." The older Lawson's smile didn't reach his eyes. "The board is asking for you. Duty calls."
After he left, Morris released a controlled breath. "I apologize for him."
"No need." I resisted the urge to touch him in reassurance. "He's exactly as advertised."
Morris's lips quirked. "And yet somehow still worse in person."
As the evening wound down, Morris found me again. "Meet me on the terrace in five minutes?"
The terrace was deserted, everyone inside focused on the CEO's closing remarks delivered by the COO. Morris stood at the railing, looking out over the city lights.
"Escaping your own party?" I asked, joining him.
"Delegating." He turned to me, moonlight silvering his profile. "I wanted a moment with you. Just us."
I moved closer until our shoulders touched. "Quite a night."
"Mmm." He was quiet for a moment. "I've been thinking."
"Dangerous."
He smiled. "About us. This arrangement."
My heart stuttered. "Having second thoughts?"
"The opposite." His hand found mine on the railing. "You practically live at my place already. It seems inefficient to maintain two residences."
It took me a moment to process what he was saying. "Morris Lawson, are you asking me to move in with you?"
"From a practical standpoint—"
I laughed. "Only you would frame cohabitation as a business decision."
His expression softened. "Not just practical. I want you there, Noah. All the time."
I turned to face him fully. "Are you sure? It's a big step."
"I've never been more certain." His eyes held mine. "These past months... you've helped me find parts of myself I thought were gone forever. Or maybe parts I never knew existed."
I reached up, cupping his face. "Is that a yes?"
"It's a yes." He leaned into my touch. "Move in with me."
I kissed him then, not caring who might see us through the terrace doors. When we parted, he rested his forehead against mine.
"What about work?" I asked. "The board? Your father?"
"We'll figure it out." His hands settled at my waist. "I'm not announcing anything formally, but I'm not hiding you either. Not anymore."
Later that night, as we stood on his—our—balcony looking at the stars, Morris wrapped his arms around me from behind.
"I never thought I could have this," he admitted quietly. "Someone who knows all of me. Someone who doesn't make me choose between strength and vulnerability."
I leaned back against him. "You deserve it. All of it."
"I'm still learning to believe that." His arms tightened around me. "But I'm getting there."
Above us, the moon shone, no longer something to fear but simply another light guiding us forward. Whatever challenges lay ahead—his father's disapproval, office politics, his continuing journey with his Omega nature—we would face them together.
Not hiding, not flaunting. Just being.
And for now, that was enough.
