ETHAN'S HELL[alpha×alpha]

chapter 3

Chapter 3

Three days had passed since Carter introduced Aaron to Ethan, and much had shifted in the office routine.

First, Ethan had to bring the architect up to speed on every single detail of the Royal Palace. Since execution was already underway, several stages required adjustments—inevitably threatening the project's completion timeline and making this the most critical phase of the work.

Working side by side in that shared space, Ethan began noticing subtle details about the other Alpha. Aaron was remarkably outgoing and personable; he hadn't even been at the company for a week, yet he was already greeting staff in the hallways as if he had known them for years. Beyond that, he was indisputably talented. The few notes he had made on the original blueprints demonstrated surgical precision and brilliant design solutions.

And, of course, there was his undeniable popularity. Aaron was an absolute magnet for the company’s Omegas—whenever Ethan passed through the main lobby, he noticed an almost endless queue of admiring glances and greetings directed at the new architect.

Now, the two of them sat at a secluded table. Ethan had decided to take him to his usual lunch spot. It was the first time he had ever brought a colleague here. He favored the restaurant for its strategic location—right next to Carter Corp, avoiding New York's chaotic peak-hour traffic—and for its quiet, refined, and private atmosphere. It was his personal sanctuary to eat in peace. In all the time he had been coming here, he had never once bumped into a coworker.

The small table had only two chairs, positioning them inescapably face-to-face.

“Do you come here often, Ethan?” Aaron asked before settling into his seat. “We’re outside the office. I can call you Ethan, right?”

Ethan sat down, maintaining a pristine, rigid posture. His face was an unreadable mask, devoid of any outward emotion.

“I suppose so, if you’re comfortable with that,” he replied in his usual measured tone.

“Then you can call me Aaron, too,” the younger man suggested, resting his forearms on the table and leaning forward slightly. “It’d feel strange if you kept calling me ‘sir,’ considering I’m younger than you.”

Ethan locked eyes with Aaron for a fraction of a second. He knew that kind of casual familiarity was likely second nature to the architect, but they had nothing in common beyond the project. In all probability, once construction on the Royal Palace wrapped up, they would never cross paths again. There was no reason to dissolve professional boundaries.

Deciding to close the subject, Ethan looked away.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Williams,” he answered calmly, his eyes dropping to the leather-bound menu. He flipped through the pages purely out of habit, having memorized the selection long ago.

Even with his focus pinned to the paper, Ethan could feel the weight of Aaron’s intense blue gaze on him, but he lacked the courage to look back.

Aaron remained still for a moment, simply observing his manager's guarded stance. Then, a subtle, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Right then,” Aaron murmured before picking up his own menu to browse.

A moment later, a polite female voice broke the silence near their table:

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Are you ready to order?”

Ethan looked up, his gaze landing on a familiar slender silhouette. It was one of the restaurant's waitresses. As a frequent guest, Ethan had been served by her numerous times, and she had always been strictly professional. Today, however, something about her behavior seemed different. She stood noticeably close to Aaron, her polite smile brighter than usual. That was simply the effect Aaron had on people.

When Ethan didn't immediately speak up, Aaron took the lead, turning toward her with his easy, charming smile:

“Good afternoon. We know what we'd like.”

Aaron turned his gaze back to Ethan. “Ethan, what are you having?”

“Salmon crudo with truffle and citrus infusion,” Ethan stated politely.

“Make that two portions of the salmon, please, and two glasses of cider,” Aaron told the waitress, handing over both menus. She offered him a shy smile before stepping away with a promise to return promptly with their order.

With that, Ethan and Aaron were left alone once more.

“So, Ethan... you’re married, right?” Aaron asked casually, breaking the quiet.

Ethan was caught off guard by the abrupt question, though his face remained entirely impassive.

“Yes... for five years now.”

“Your wife must be lucky. You seem like a devoted husband,” Aaron remarked.

The words struck Ethan like a physical blow, making his heart skip a beat. Angel’s face flashed through his mind alongside memories of their marriage—how Angel looked increasingly weary and hollow, and how they both remained trapped inside that hollow arrangement.

“I do my best,” Ethan said softly.

“Any kids?”

Ethan stared at Aaron, searching for any trace of provocation or malice behind the question, but found none. Aaron merely maintained his usual calm, friendly composure.

“No. We haven't been blessed yet.”

Though a storm of thoughts raged behind Ethan’s eyes, his expression stayed firm.

“You’re both still quite young, and five years is a decent amount of time... Is there a specific reason, if you don't mind me asking?”

Those simple words made Ethan’s pulse spike. Memories of his mother demanding a grandson and heir echoed in his mind—including the time she threatened to take Angel to a fertility clinic if he didn't conceive soon, and how humiliating that ordeal had been, especially for Angel. A surge of sharp irritation welled up in Ethan's chest. What was the point of this conversation? They were merely coworkers; there was no reason to pry into something so deeply personal.

Before he could offer a blunt response, the waitress returned with their meal. She set down the two plates along with their drinks, leaning in conspicuously close to Aaron:

“If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to call me,” she murmured in a low voice, emphasizing anything before gliding away.

Aaron acted completely unfazed, paying no mind to the girl's obvious advance. Ethan wrinkled his nose in subtle disdain at the display but remained silent. Wanting to steer clear of another uncomfortable question about his private life, Ethan took the initiative to redirect the conversation:

“What about you, Mr. Williams... are you married?”

“Me? No.”

“Afraid of commitment?” The question slipped off Ethan’s tongue before he could stop it. He froze, pausing mid-cut into his salmon as he realized how blunt he had sounded.

However, when he looked up, Aaron’s expression hadn't soured at all—he seemed entirely unbothered by the jab.

“It’s not that. Let’s just say I haven't found my soulmate yet,” Aaron replied casually, chewing a piece of fish.

“I see. You’re particular.”

It made sense for him to be selective. Looking at him, Aaron seemed like the ideal partner for practically anyone; it was only natural he would hold out for someone who matched him.

“Not really. Honestly, my type is pretty straightforward.”

“Is that so? And what exactly is your type, Mr. Williams?”

“My type... well, let’s just say it’s someone like... you, Ethan.” The words rolled off Aaron’s tongue with effortless ease.

Ethan went completely rigid, his fork frozen mid-air as his eyes slowly drifted upward. Seemingly oblivious to the impact of his statement, Aaron cut another piece of salmon and ate it under Ethan’s stunned, petrified gaze.

“I mean, my type is Alphas. Like you, Ethan... since you’re an Alpha,” Aaron added after swallowing.

Ethan looked away instantly. He set his fork down, picked up his glass of cider, and brought it to his lips, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. He had to grip the glass tightly to keep his fingers from visibly trembling. The chilled liquid burned down his throat.

The words echoed relentlessly in his head: “My type is Alphas.”

Alphas. Aaron had just openly admitted that his romantic and s****l interest lay in other Alphas.

Ethan set the glass back on the table with a sharp click, trying desperately to reclaim his composure. Aaron’s revelation wasn't just a casual declaration of orientation; in a society where most Alphas sought the submission of Omegas, hearing a dominant Alpha admit attraction to another Alpha was a bold provocation that defied social conventions and biological norms. Relationships between two Alphas, while somewhat more acknowledged in modern times, were still considered taboo—where clashing pheromones, possessiveness, and the instinct for dominance turned any pairing into a constant power struggle.

“That is... unusual, Mr. Williams,” Ethan managed to reply, his voice dropping an octave.

“To most people, maybe,” Aaron countered smoothly, a faint, amused smirk playing on his lips as he watched Ethan’s reaction. “It certainly isn't easy. But when you find two people willing to surrender to it... being with an Alpha can be far more intense than being with an Omega,” Aaron added, his tone dropping almost to a whisper.

Ethan shuddered at those words. He felt pinned by those deep blue eyes, which now held a raw, predatory intensity he had never seen before. He tore his gaze away, a sudden wave of heat creeping up his neck. He took another quick sip of cider, set the glass down, and cleared his throat.

“An... interesting theory,” Ethan said, dabbing his lips with his napkin.

Aaron’s smile widened, thoroughly satisfied with the effect of his words.

Ethan checked his watch. There were still fifteen minutes left of his lunch break, but he decided to end the meal right then and head back.

“Looking at the time, we should probably head back, Mr. Williams. There’s still plenty to get through,” Ethan said, gesturing for the check.

The two made their way back to the office and returned to work. On the surface, Ethan maintained his image as the unshakeable executive, but underneath, the echoes of that conversation refused to quiet down. Aaron Williams wasn't just a brilliant architect; he was a direct, dangerous threat to every emotion Ethan had spent a lifetime repressing.