One Night With the Enemy (Omegaverse)

Elyse’s P.O.V

I stepped out of my car and onto the cobblestones in front of the Marriott Hotel, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The late morning sun warmed my shoulders, and the faint sound of water splashing from the fountain in the courtyard mingled with the hum of approaching traffic.

I adjusted my tie in the reflection of the glass doors, reminding myself to stay composed. This was my chance to work with Edmund Spencer—the Edmund Spencer—on his billion-dollar Viker project. Every career milestone I’d dreamed of led to this moment.

The bellhop opened the door with a polite nod, and I stepped inside, greeted by the luxurious coolness of the lobby. Marble floors gleamed under golden chandeliers, and the faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air. My shoes clicked softly as I crossed the space, heading toward the reception desk. A sharp buzz of conversation reached my ears, and that’s when I saw him.

Kyle MacGyver. CEO of the MacGyver group of companies, and Thompson Construction’s arch rival.

He stood near the desk, chatting with a poised young man in a sleek navy suit—Mr. Spencer’s assistant, I realized. Kyle looked as smug as ever, his tailored gray suit fitting him like a second skin, his hair perfectly styled. My stomach sank as he glanced my way and gave me one of his signature smirks that always managed to infuriate me.

Of course, it would be Kyle. If there was anyone who could match my ambition and vision, it was him. Our rivalry wasn’t new. For years, we’d gone head-to-head, always vying for the same opportunities. Yet, seeing him here, competing for the same project, made my chest tighten.

“Elyse,” he called out, his tone carrying that familiar mix of cordiality and amusement. “Fancy seeing you here.”

I forced a smile and approached him, shaking his hand. His grip was firm—deliberately so.

“Kyle,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Small world, isn’t it?”

“Not small enough,” he quipped with a chuckle, though his eyes remained sharp.

Before I could respond, the assistant cleared his throat, drawing both our attention.

“Gentlemen,” he began, her voice crisp and professional. “Mr. Spencer has arranged rooms for you both to rest and prepare. He’ll meet with you this evening to discuss your proposals.”

“Rooms?” I repeated, my brows lifting slightly.

“Yes,” he replied, handing us each a sleek envelope containing a key card. “The accommodations are complimentary, of course. Please feel free to enjoy the hotel’s amenities. Dinner will be at 7 p.m. in the private dining room. Mr. Spencer values punctuality.”

“Of course he does,” Kyle muttered under his breath, though the assistant either didn’t hear or chose to ignore it.

I nodded, taking my envelope. “Thank you,” I said.

The moment I stepped into the private hall room, a strange sensation pricked at the edge of my awareness. At first, I dismissed it as nerves, the kind that comes with meeting someone like Edmund Spencer, but it lingered, almost tangible, in the air. A faint scent drifted toward me, something rich and alluring. It wasn’t the roses on the table or the faint trace of the assistant’s perfume from now.

No, this was different—warm, heady, and distinctly… sensual.

I shifted uncomfortably, tugging at my collar as a sudden heat spread across my skin. My palms grew damp, and I discreetly wiped them against my trousers, trying to focus on the conversation at hand.

Kyle took his own envelope, flashing his perfect smile. “Thanks, Adrian. We’ll head upstairs now.”

I nodded stiffly, my throat dry as I tried to ignore the way the scent was starting to mess with my focus. It wasn’t normal—not just how potent it was, but how it seemed to be affecting me. My body felt strangely reactive, and I couldn’t shake the flush of heat creeping under my skin.

Kyle turned to me, his tone casual but sharp. “Shall we?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, following him out of the hall room and toward the elevators.

The moment we stepped into the lobby, I was hit again with that scent, stronger this time, enveloping me like a velvet haze. My pulse quickened as we reached the elevator bank, and I stood stiffly beside Kyle while he pressed the button for the thirtieth floor.

I kept my gaze fixed on the polished steel doors as we stepped into the cab. The soft hum of the elevator filled the silence, but my focus was entirely elsewhere. The scent had grown even stronger in the confined space, warm and intoxicating, wrapping around me like an invisible embrace. My breaths came shallower as my senses betrayed me, and my body responded in a way I couldn’t control.

I swallowed hard, shifting on my feet, my chest tightening as I realized what was happening. Desire—raw, overwhelming, and completely unbidden—was building inside me. It was impossible to ignore now. I felt it in the way my skin prickled, the way heat pooled low in my abdomen and the way my pants grew uncomfortably tight.

And then it hit me. The source of the scent.

Kyle.

My eyes snapped to him, and he turned slightly, his lips curving into a smirk as if he knew. His confidence was maddening, but now it was more than that—it was magnetic. My gaze lingered too long on the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his tie hung perfectly against his chest, the faint sheen of his cologne that somehow enhanced the pheromone radiating from him.

“You okay there, Elyse?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

I cleared my throat, forcing my gaze back to the elevator doors. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking about tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.” His smirk deepened, and he leaned casually against the elevator wall, his presence entirely too close. “You seem a little… distracted.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, willing myself to calm down. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t afford to lose control like this—not here, not now, and especially not with him.