Now, the real fun begins.

The corridor of The Reich Hotel was a silent, opulent tunnel of marble and low golden light. As Jay slid his keycard into the door, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He didn't need to turn around to know he was being watched; the weight of the gaze was a physical pressure between his shoulder blades.

He pushed the door open, determined to ignore the presence behind him.

He was a second too slow.

A powerful hand shot out, stopping the door from closing. Jay spun around, his heart hammering against his ribs. The man from the elevator—the one with the cold eyes and the infuriatingly strong pheromones—stood in his doorway, filling the space.

"Wait—you! What are you doing?" Jay snapped, his voice a low, sharp whisper. "Are you out of your mind? This is my room."

The man—Rafe—merely smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. He stepped forward, forcing Jay to retreat into the room. The door clicked shut, sealing them in together.

"You're not a real model, are you?" Rafe said, his voice deceptively soft.

The question hit Jay like a physical blow. His mind raced, a frantic, panicked loop. How does he know? No. It can't be. Is this Rafe's man? Has he known all along?

Seeing the shock flash in Jay's eyes, Rafe chuckled. "I'm kidding," he said, though his eyes held no humor. "You just have the look of a man who is playing a part."

"Get out," Jay bit out, his composure cracking. He pointed a trembling finger toward the door. "Now."

Instead of leaving, Rafe moved with startling speed. He grabbed Jay's arm, his grip like iron. "Do you want to have some fun tonight?" he murmured, his voice dropping to an intimate, dangerous whisper. He pulled Jay closer, until mere inches separated them. Jay could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the intoxicating, dominant scent of his pheromones—sandalwood, whiskey, and pure, unadulterated power.

Jay's eyes widened, the pupils dilating. A faint red hue—a tell-tale sign of an Omega's heightened emotional state—tinged the sclera. He tried to shove Rafe away, but his limbs felt heavy.

Rafe’s cold eyes glinted with amusement as he looked down at him. "You are an Omega, right?"

The final piece of Jay's cover shattered. "So what?" he snarled, a last, desperate act of defiance. "Get out of my room!"

He tried to push Rafe back, to summon his own dominant will, but it was too late. Rafe deliberately let his control slip. A wave of pure, concentrated Alpha pheromones crashed over Jay, so potent and overwhelming it stole the air from his lungs. His knees buckled. He gasped, his vision swimming as he fought for a breath that wouldn't come, his body reacting on a primal level he couldn't suppress.

He was going down.

Rafe caught him as he crumpled, his strong arms easily supporting Jay's weight. "Ah, what's wrong?" Rafe murmured, his tone almost mocking as he looked at the dazed man in his arms. "You can't handle my pheromones? That's too bad."

Jay could only gasp, his world reduced to a dizzying, suffocating haze. He felt Rafe shift, one hand holding him up while the other produced a small, single-dose liquid pill.

"Open your mouth," Rafe commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"No..." Jay slurred, trying to turn his head away.

Rafe’s grip tightened. He forced Jay's jaw open and squeezed the liquid onto his tongue. It was bitter and cool, sliding down his throat before he could resist. A profound, heavy warmth spread through him instantly, sapping the last of his strength. His eyes fluttered closed, and consciousness slipped away.

When Jay came to, the world was soft and blurred. He was lying on a cool, silk duvet. This wasn't his room. The air was different—it smelled overwhelmingly of him. Of Rafe.

He forced his eyes open. He was in a massive, lavishly decorated suite. Rafe was there, standing by the bed, looking down at him with an unreadable, cold expression, though a faint, triumphant smile still played on his lips.

Before Jay could form a word, Rafe moved. He leaned over the bed, caging Jay beneath him, one hand on either side of his head. He didn't speak. He simply lowered his head and captured Jay's lips in a searing, possessive kiss. It wasn't gentle; it was a brand, a claim of dominance.

Jay’s mind screamed in protest, but his drugged, overwhelmed body was powerless. He could only lie there as Rafe finally pulled back, his cold eyes scanning Jay's face—the shock, the fear, the dazed submission.

Rafe smiled, a true, chilling smile of victory.

"The game is over, little spy," he whispered, his voice a silken threat in the dark room. "Now, the real fun begins."