Alpha's Accidental Mate

Company Party

The next two weeks passed in a blur of work, coffee, and trying not to think about my weird boss.

Damien Blackwood kept his distance. I'd see him occasionally in the hallways or during big meetings, but he never spoke to me again after that night outside the bar. Which was fine. Totally fine. I didn't need my CEO giving me cryptic warnings anyway.

I focused on the work. The Morrison account was going well. Janet seemed pleased with my progress. Riley and I became actual friends, grabbing lunch together most days. Marcus checked in regularly, always friendly and helpful.

Life at Mooncrest was good. Normal, even.

Until the company party.

"You're coming, right?" Riley leaned over my desk, her red hair falling into her face. "Please say yes. These parties are only fun if you have someone to make fun of people with."

I laughed. "When is it again?"

"Friday night. This Friday. At the Blackwood Estate." She said the last part with dramatic emphasis.

"Wait, at his house?"

"Yep. Damien hosts a party every quarter for the whole company. It's supposedly amazing. Open bar, catered food, live music. The works."

"That seems... excessive."

Riley shrugged. "He's a billionaire. They do excessive. Come on, it'll be fun. Plus, it's basically mandatory. Everyone goes."

"Fine," I agreed. "But you owe me."

"Deal. Wear something nice. Not too nice, but nice. Business casual fancy."

Friday arrived faster than I wanted. I spent an embarrassing amount of time picking out clothes. A dark blue button-down shirt, black slacks, nice shoes. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt reasonably confident I wouldn't embarrass myself.

The Blackwood Estate was outside the city, up in the hills. I followed the GPS and my jaw dropped when I pulled through the gates.

The house was massive. Not house—mansion. Three stories of modern architecture with huge windows that glowed with warm light. The driveway was already packed with expensive cars.

"Jesus," I muttered, parking my beat-up Honda Civic between a BMW and a Mercedes.

I followed other people toward the entrance. Music and conversation drifted from inside. My palms were sweating.

"Ethan!" Riley appeared at my elbow, wearing a pretty green dress. "You made it! Come on, the bar's this way."

She dragged me through the front door into the most beautiful house I'd ever seen. High ceilings. Art on the walls that probably cost more than my college education. A massive stone fireplace in the living room where people mingled with drinks.

"Drink first," Riley declared. "Then we can explore."

The bar was set up in what looked like a home theater converted into party space. A bartender in a vest smiled as we approached.

"What can I get you?"

"Whiskey sour," Riley said.

"Just a beer. Whatever you have on tap." I wasn't much of a fancy drinker.

The bartender poured our drinks and we wandered back toward the main room. The party was in full swing. I recognized people from different departments. Everyone seemed relaxed, laughing and drinking.

"There's Marcus," Riley pointed across the room.

Marcus was talking to a group of people near the fireplace. When he saw us, he waved us over.

"Hey, you two. Having fun?"

"Just got here," I said. "This place is insane."

"Right?" Marcus grinned. "Wait until you see the back deck. The view is incredible."

We chatted for a while, the conversation easy. More coworkers joined our group. I was starting to relax, the beer helping to smooth my nerves.

Then someone clinked a glass, and the room quieted down.

Damien Blackwood stood on the stairs, elevated enough that everyone could see him. He looked different tonight. Still wearing black, but more casual. A sweater instead of a suit jacket. It made him look younger, more human.

"Thank you all for coming," he said, his deep voice carrying easily. "I know it's tradition to give a long speech, but I'll keep this brief. This company works because of all of you. Your dedication, your innovation, your hard work. So tonight, enjoy yourselves. Drink, eat, celebrate. You've earned it."

People clapped and cheered. Damien smiled—actually smiled—and descended the stairs. Immediately, people surrounded him.

"He's good at this," I observed.

"He should be," Marcus said quietly. "He's been running this company since he was twenty-five."

"How old is he now?"

"Thirty-two."

I watched Damien work the room. He seemed to know everyone's name, asked personal questions, made people laugh. It was impressive and a little intimidating.

"I need another drink," Riley announced. "Anyone else?"

"I'll come with you," Marcus said. They headed toward the bar.

I stayed where I was, content to observe. The party was nice. Good music, good food. Through the windows, I could see people gathering on the back deck Marcus had mentioned.

"Mr. Blake."

I turned, somehow not surprised to find Damien standing next to me.

"Mr. Blackwood. Great party."

"Thank you. How are you settling in? Two weeks now?"

"Yeah. It's going well. Everyone's been helpful."

His dark eyes studied me for a moment. "Good. And the work? You're finding it challenging enough?"

"Definitely. The Morrison account alone is keeping me busy."

"That's a important client. Janet must trust you if she gave you that one." He paused. "Would you like to see the view? It's better from upstairs."

The invitation caught me off guard. "Uh, sure."

Damien led me through the crowd toward a different staircase at the back of the house. We climbed to the second floor, which was quieter. A few people were up here, but not many.

He took me to a study with floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was incredible. The city sprawled below us, lights twinkling in the darkness. In the distance, I could see the water.

"Wow," I breathed.

"It's why I bought this place." Damien stood beside me, looking out at the view. "Sometimes you need to get above everything. See the bigger picture."

We stood in silence for a moment. It should have been awkward, but it wasn't. Just quiet.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, surprising myself.

"Go ahead."

"That night outside the bar. You said not everyone is what they seem. What did you mean?"

Damien was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he said, "This company has secrets, Mr. Blake. Things that keep it running. Things that keep people safe." He turned to look at me. "I wanted to warn you to be careful. That's all."

"Careful of what?"

"Of getting too involved in things you don't understand."

The cryptic answer frustrated me. "That's not really an answer."

His lips twitched. Almost a smile. "No, I suppose it isn't." He checked his watch. "I should get back to my guests. Enjoy the party, Mr. Blake."

He left, and I was alone with the view and more questions than before.

What secrets? What was he talking about?

I headed back downstairs, feeling unsettled. Riley found me near the food table, loading up a plate with fancy appetizers.

"Where'd you disappear to?" she asked.

"Damien showed me the view from upstairs."

Her eyebrows shot up. "He did? That's... interesting."

"It's not interesting. He was just being polite."

"If you say so." She popped a shrimp into her mouth. "Want to go explore the deck?"

We spent the next hour outside, where someone had set up heaters and string lights. The view was amazing out here too. Riley introduced me to more people. I was starting to remember names and faces.

The beer kept flowing. I was definitely tipsy now, warm and relaxed. The party had gotten louder, more energetic. Someone turned up the music.

"Dance with me!" Riley grabbed my hand.

"I don't really dance."

"Neither do I. That's what makes it fun!"

She dragged me to where people were dancing. It was silly and fun and exactly what I needed. We jumped around to pop songs, laughing at ourselves and each other.

Marcus joined us, moving with surprising rhythm. Other people from marketing came over. We became a group, dancing and drinking and not caring how we looked.

I was having fun. Real fun. The kind I hadn't had since before everything fell apart in Portland.

At some point, I needed air. I was sweaty and overheated from dancing. I pushed through the crowd toward the deck doors.

Outside, the cool night air felt amazing. I leaned against the railing, catching my breath. The party continued inside, muffled behind glass.

"Having fun?"

I jumped. Damien stood a few feet away, half-hidden in shadows.

"Yeah. Sorry, needed to cool down. Dancing is a workout."

"I saw." He moved closer. "You've got decent rhythm."

I laughed. "That's generous. I was mostly just flailing."

"It worked."

We fell into silence again. But this time it felt different. Charged, somehow. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me.

"You're different than I expected," Damien said quietly.

"Different how?"

"Most people are intimidated by me. Nervous. They're afraid to be themselves."

"Should I be afraid?"

His eyes locked on mine. "I don't know yet."

My heart was pounding. This felt like something. I just didn't know what.

"Damien!" Someone called from inside. "We need you for a toast!"

The moment broke. Damien stepped back, his expression shifting back to neutral. "Duty calls." He paused at the door. "Stay safe tonight, Mr. Blake. Don't drink too much."

Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the dark.

I stayed outside for a few more minutes, trying to process whatever just happened. Nothing happened, I told myself. Just my drunk brain reading into things.

When I went back inside, the party had reached its peak. People were definitely drunk now. The dancing was messier. The laughter louder.

Riley found me again. "There you are! We're doing shots. You're in."

"I really shouldn't—"

"Too late!" She shoved a shot glass into my hand. Marcus had one too, along with several other people I vaguely recognized.

"To Ethan!" Riley declared. "For surviving two weeks at Mooncrest!"

Everyone cheered. We threw back the shots. Tequila burned down my throat.

"Another!" someone yelled.

This was a bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea. But I was drunk and happy and didn't want the night to end.

We did another round. Then another.

The rest of the night got fuzzy. I remember dancing more. Laughing a lot. Marcus's arm around my shoulders as we sang along to some song. Riley taking a million pictures.

At some point, much later, I stumbled toward the bathroom. The house was huge and confusing. I got lost, ended up in a hallway I didn't recognize.

I pushed open a door, looking for the bathroom.

It wasn't a bathroom.

It was a bedroom. Dark and quiet. And Damien Blackwood was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

He looked up when I entered. Our eyes met.

"Sorry," I slurred. "Wrong room."

I should have left. Should have turned around and walked away.

Instead, I stepped inside and closed the door.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Damien stood up slowly. "I should ask you that. You're drunk."

"Little bit." I moved closer. The room spun slightly. "You left the party."

"I needed a break."

"Me too." I laughed. "Except I was looking for the bathroom."

"It's down the hall. Third door on the left."

"Oh. Thanks."

I didn't move. Neither did he.

The air between us felt electric. Dangerous.

"You should go," Damien said, but his voice was rough.

"Yeah. I should."

I stepped closer instead.

I couldn't explain it. The pull toward him. Like magnets. Like gravity.

"Ethan." My name on his lips sounded like a warning. Or a prayer.

"Tell me to leave," I whispered. "If you want me to leave, tell me now."

Damien stared at me for a long moment. Then he reached out and pulled me against him.

His lips crashed into mine.

The kiss was desperate, hungry. His hands tangled in my hair. I grabbed his sweater, pulling him closer. He tasted like whiskey and something darker, more intoxicating.

We stumbled toward the bed, not breaking the kiss. My back hit the mattress. Damien's weight pressed me down, perfect and overwhelming.

"This is a mistake," he breathed against my neck.

"I know," I gasped.

We didn't stop.

His hands were everywhere. My shirt came off. His sweater disappeared. Skin against skin, hot and desperate.

"We shouldn't—" Damien started.

I pulled him into another kiss, shutting him up. I didn't want to think. Didn't want to be smart. I just wanted this. Wanted him.

The world narrowed to just us. Touch and taste and need.

Somewhere in the back of my drunk mind, I knew this was wrong. He was my boss. I barely knew him. This would complicate everything.

But right now, none of that mattered.

Right now, there was just Damien's mouth on mine and his hands on my body and the feeling that I'd been waiting for this without knowing it.

The last thing I remember clearly was his voice, low and rough in my ear.

"You have no idea what you've started."

Then everything went dark.