Eren glanced toward the kitchen, heart ticking faster. Before he could dwell on it, Tyler leaned in, voice pitched just low enough to sound casual but edged with mockery.
"I've never seen you this surprised, Eren. You must really like whoever cooked that for you."
Eren forced a small smile. "He's… talented."
The food helped ease the tension, laughter rising around the room as classmates delighted in the unexpected luxury. Plates clinked, wine glasses lifted. Eren tried to join in, though the warmth in his chest wasn't from the meal—it was from the gnawing certainty of who was behind it.
But Tyler wasn't done. He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "I didn't know you had that kind of charm. Even the chefs at a five-star hotel are bending over backwards for you. Imagine that."
Eren stiffened, the tip of his ear flushing, but before he could reply, the organizer piped up, eyes catching on his hand.
"Eren—you're wearing a ring." The words carried across the table, pulling others' attention. "Don't tell me you're already married? Where's your husband, then? You're the only one here without a partner tonight."
Whispers spread instantly, curiosity sharpening the air. A few Omegas leaned closer, eyes narrowing in interest. The shift in scents around him was almost suffocating—sweet curiosity, sour envy, sharp Beta suspicion.
Eren glanced down at the ring, his stomach dropping. He'd forgotten to take it off.
"Yes," James added smoothly, stepping in with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. His Alpha scent swelled, pressing heavy against Eren's chest. "Introduce him to us. We'd all love to meet the man who married you."
"I—he's busy," Eren said quickly, the words clumsy on his tongue. His Omega scent faltered, trying to flatten, to vanish beneath the weight of attention.
"Busy?" the organizer echoed, chuckling. "What kind of job keeps him away from a reunion like this?"
James's grin sharpened. "Yes, Eren. Tell us what he does."
The table quieted, all eyes on him. Eren's fists curled beneath the tablecloth, nails biting into his palms. Heat crept up his neck. He could feel James testing him, savoring the way the spotlight pinned him down.
This bastard's doing it on purpose.
He bit back the growl that wanted to rise in his throat. If I said my husband was the President of Ulrick Group, would that wipe that smug look off your face?
But he stayed silent, swallowing the words, his chest burning with the effort.
The lights of the ballroom dimmed against the glittering skyline outside, throwing long shadows across the polished floor. Conversations faltered, laughter softened, and the weight of scrutiny pressed down on Eren like a net he couldn't untangle himself from.
"Why aren't you answering, Eren?" James's voice cut through the hush, smooth yet edged with mockery. He leaned forward, eyes glinting with deliberate challenge. "Is he someone we know?"
The crowd stirred. Whispers sparked, weaving from table to table, their scents of curiosity and anticipation thickening the air. Eren felt the shift in the room's energy—eyes sliding toward him, waiting, hungry for an answer.
His throat tightened. He couldn't let the truth slip, not here. Not like this. "He works in finance," he managed, his tone carefully neutral.
James arched a brow, lips curving in amusement. "Finance? That's vague. Which company?" The weight of his Alpha presence pressed harder, pushing against Eren's composure like a hand at his throat.
Before Eren could speak, the organizer cut in with a forced laugh. "Come on, James, give him a break. Not everyone wants to parade their personal life around." A few chuckles scattered nervously, but the unease didn't vanish—it lingered, like smoke refusing to clear.
James leaned back, smirk never fading. "Just curious," he said, though his tone carried the satisfaction of a predator toying with prey.
Curious, my ass, Eren thought bitterly, gripping his glass until his knuckles whitened. You just want to corner me.
The servers began laying out the next course, gilded dishes gleaming beneath the chandeliers. The air filled with rich aromas, but Eren's stomach twisted, his appetite strangled by the lingering tension. Still, he forced himself to sit straighter, blending into the table's chatter as laughter resumed, thin and uneasy.
The restaurant manager arrived with a bottle of champagne, his smile a shade too stiff. "Compliments of Mr. Ulrick," he announced. The words drew a ripple of awe from the guests, and crystal glasses were quickly filled.
James lifted his own with practiced ease, his smirk settling into a dazzling smile. "To friendship, to memories, and to the joy of gathering again," he said. His voice carried, drawing cheers and clinking glasses.
The others followed, swept up in the gesture, their scents brightening with alcohol and camaraderie. Eren raised his glass last, movements deliberate, slow. He sipped, the bubbles sharp on his tongue, but the knot in his chest only tightened.
Because beneath the music and laughter, he couldn't shake the creeping sensation that someone else was here. Watching. Waiting.
Eren stepped into the garden, the air cooler and gentler than the crowded ballroom inside. Fairy lights hung between the trees, scattering soft glimmers across the benches and hedges. He drew in a deep breath, trying to ease the knot of unease James's questions had left in his chest.
Footsteps approached from behind. He turned—and froze.
"Why are you out here alone?" Adriel asked as he shrugged off his coat and draped it over Eren's shoulders. The weight and warmth of it made Eren's pulse stumble, his Alpha scent clinging faintly to the fabric, grounding and overwhelming all at once.
"You didn't eat much," Adriel continued, searching his face. "Was the food not to your liking?"
Eren blinked, caught between surprise and something softer. "Wait—are you… the special chef they mentioned?" he asked, a small, incredulous smile tugging at his lips.
Adriel's answering grin was boyish, almost smug. "Guilty as charged. I thought you'd starve if I didn't step in."
Eren couldn't stop staring. The way Adriel's dimples deepened when he smiled—it tugged something loose inside him, something he wasn't supposed to feel. His chest warmed, his skin prickling with the Alpha's nearness.
"Well," he murmured, lifting one of the strawberries Adriel had tucked onto the plate, "you saved me from that fate."
Adriel chuckled low in his throat, leaning casually against the bench as if he hadn't just unraveled Eren's composure with a coat and a smile.
"How did you even know I was here?" Eren asked after a beat. "Was it James? He rented the whole restaurant for Tyler, didn't he? To show off?"
Adriel arched a brow, lips curling in a sarcastic twist. "James? Renting this place?" He shook his head. "Not a chance."
The pieces clicked in Eren's mind, his eyes widening. "Then… it was you? You sponsored all of this?"
Adriel shrugged, casual but unable to hide the glint of amusement in his eyes. "What can I say? I thought your reunion deserved a proper stage. And," his smile softened, "it gave me an excuse to cook for you."
Eren's throat tightened. He pressed a hand to his stomach, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Seems like the little one in here only accepts your meals. Guess that means you're stuck taking care of us."
Adriel reached out, resting his palm briefly against Eren's hair, his touch gentle yet commanding in its intimacy. "As long as you're both content," he said quietly.
Eren swallowed hard, heat rising to his cheeks. That feeling was back, stronger than ever—dangerous, undeniable. If this kept up, he wouldn't be able to keep their agreement. Not when Adriel was this thoughtful, this steady. Not when every gesture whispered of something more.