The floor-to-ceiling windows of Kang Taewoo's office offered a panoramic view of Seoul's glittering skyline, but the man standing before them saw nothing but red. At 193 centimeters of pure, concentrated fury wrapped in a Tom Ford suit that cost more than most people's monthly salary, Taewoo cut an imposing figure even when stationary. His jaw, sharp enough to cut glass, was clenched so tight it could crack diamonds. The expensive fabric of his charcoal three-piece suit stretched across impossibly broad shoulders as he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, every inch the terrifying Alpha that had clawed his way to the top of Asia's corporate and criminal underworld.
"Ten billion won," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the spacious office like distant thunder. "Ten. Billion. Won. Just... gone."
Behind him, sprawled across the black leather sofa with the kind of casual arrogance only a fellow apex predator could pull off, Hong Yoo picked at her perfectly manicured nails. At 186 centimeters and two years younger than him, she was a tall female Alpha, with an androgynous handsomeness that had both male and female Omegas falling over themselves wherever she went. Her tailored Armani suit, slate gray with subtle pinstripes, was impeccably pressed. Not a single strand of her short, expertly styled hair was out of place. She looked like she'd just stepped off the cover of a high-fashion magazine, which, given her side ventures, she actually had done last month.
"I mean, technically it's not gone-gone," Yoo offered, examining her thumbnail with intense concentration. "We know exactly where it went. We just don't know where the bastard who took it went."
Taewoo turned from the window, and the movement was predatory enough that even Yoo, who had known him since their university days, felt her inner Alpha tense. His dark eyes, usually so carefully controlled, held a dangerous glint. His pheromones, normally kept in check with the iron discipline that had made him a legend in the boardroom and the underworld alike, leaked out just enough to make the air feel heavy with sandalwood.
"Do you think this is funny?" he asked, his tone deceptively mild.
"Do I think it's funny that some mid-level accountant with delusions of grandeur managed to embezzle ten billion won from T&T Industries, one of the largest conglomerates in Asia, run by a man who also happens to control half the underground weapons and pharmaceutical trade on this side of the continent?" Yoo ticked off each point on her fingers. "A man who, might I add, has made grown Alphas piss themselves with a single look? Yeah, Taewoo-hyung. It's objectively hilarious."
"Hong Yoo."
"I'm just saying, the optics aren't great. We're either losing our touch, or Jeon Hyungtae is a criminal mastermind the likes of which this world has never seen. And considering I've seen his work and chat history, I'm going with option A."
Taewoo pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture that had become increasingly common in the past seventy-two hours since they'd discovered the theft. The custom-made Italian shoes he wore made no sound as he crossed the marble floor to his desk, a massive thing made of ebony wood. Everything in Taewoo's office screamed power and wealth: the original artwork on the walls, the crystal decanters of liquor that cost more than a car, the Persian rug underfoot that was older than both of them combined.
"We've had people searching for three days," Taewoo said, collapsing into his leather chair with less grace than usual. He looked tired, which was understandable. He'd probably slept a total of six hours since the discovery of the embezzlement. "Three days. The man has vanished like smoke."
"He can't have gotten far with that much money. Even if he converted it all to cryptocurrency, there'd be a trace. The moment he tries to access it—"
"If he tries to access it. For all we know, he's sitting on a beach in the Philippines, sipping cocktails and laughing at us."
Yoo's expression hardened. "Then we expand the search to the Philippines. And Thailand. And anywhere else his sorry ass might have crawled to. We'll find him, Taewoo-hyung. We always do."
Before Taewoo could respond, his phone vibrated on the desk. The screen lit up with a name that made him groan audibly: Mother.
Yoo's lips twitched. "Oh, this should be good. Put him on speaker."
"Absolutely not."
"Come on, I could use some entertainment. Watching you squirm is the highlight of my week."
"Don't you have a company to run? Omegas to seduce and abandon? Literally anything else to do?"
"I'm the picture of efficiency. I can multitask." Yoo grinned, showing teeth. "Besides, you know I live for this."
The phone continued to vibrate, insistent. Taewoo glared at it like it had personally offended him, which, in a way, it had. He could almost hear his mother's voice already, that particular blend of love, disappointment, and passive-aggressive guilt that only parents could master.
With a heavy sigh, he answered. "Hello, Mother."
"Kang Taewoo." His mother's voice came through the speaker, crisp with disapproval. Min Yiji, despite being a male Omega, had a voice that could cut through steel when he wanted it to. At fifty-four, he was still stunningly beautiful, with the kind of delicate features and graceful bearing that had made him one of the most sought-after Omegas of his generation. "Do you know what day it is?"
Taewoo glanced at the calendar on his computer screen. "Wednesday?"
"It is Wednesday, yes. Wednesday, the fourth of the month. The fourth Wednesday of the month. The fourth Wednesday of every month for the past three years, Taewoo. The day we have lunch together. The lunch you missed. Again."
Shit.
"Mother, I'm sorry. I've been dealing with—"
"With work. Yes. You're always dealing with work." Yiji's sigh was long-suffering, the kind of sigh that carried thirty years of maternal disappointment.
"Taewoo, you're thirty years old. Thirty. When your father was your age, we already had you. Your father and I were bonded, building a life together. What do you have?"
"A multinational corporation? Several successful business ventures? More money than I could spend in three lifetimes?"
"An empty house," Yiji corrected. "A cold bed. No mate. No children. No one to carry on the family name. At this rate, you'll die alone, and I'll have to hold my grandchildren from the grave. Is that what you want? For your poor mother to haunt you as a ghost, wailing about the grandchildren he never got to spoil?"
Across the room, Yoo had stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from laughing. Her shoulders shook with barely suppressed mirth.
"Mother, you're being dramatic—"
"I'm being realistic! You're not getting any younger, Taewoo. Your prime years are slipping away. Soon, all the good Omegas will be bonded to other Alphas, and you'll be left with nothing but your precious spreadsheets to keep you warm at night."
"I appreciate your concern—"
"This is more than concern. This is your mother begging you to at least consider settling down. I'm not saying you need to marry tomorrow. Just... meet some Omegas. Go on dates. Let me introduce you to nice boys from good families. Mrs. Kim's son just finished his graduate degree. Very pretty, very smart—"
"I'm not interested in being set up, Mother."
"You're not interested in anything except work! What happened to the sweet little boy who used to tell me he wanted a big family? Who used to play house and pretend to take care of his stuffed animals?"
"He grew up and realized that running a criminal empire doesn't leave much time for domestic bliss?"
There was a sharp intake of breath. "Don't be crude, Taewoo. We don't discuss that aspect of your... business ventures."
Taewoo scrubbed a hand over his face. His mother had a unique ability to acknowledge and simultaneously deny the less legal parts of his empire. It was impressive, really.
"I have to go, Mother. We'll reschedule lunch."
"You always say that."
"And I always mean it. I'll call you later."
"You better. And think about what I said! I'm not getting any younger either, you know. I want to hold my grandbabies while I can still chase after them."
"Yes, Mother. Goodbye, Mother."
He ended the call and dropped the phone onto his desk like it had burned him. The silence that followed was broken only by Yoo's barely contained snickering.
"Don't," Taewoo warned.
"I'm not saying anything."
"You're thinking it very loudly."
"Can you blame me? That was beautiful. 'Hold my grandchildren from the grave.' Your mother has a flair for the dramatic."
"He gets it from his mother," Taewoo muttered. "Who got it from her mother. It's a genetic curse."
"I mean, he's not wrong though. You are thirty. That's practically ancient in to the older generation. Your knot might shrivel up any day now."
"I'm going to fire you."
"You can't fire me. I'm too valuable. Plus, I'm the only person in this organization who isn't terrified of you." Yoo stretched, catlike. "But seriously, would it kill you to at least pretend to have a personal life? Maybe go on one date? It might make your mom stop calling you during work hours."
"I don't have time for dating. In case you've forgotten, we're currently ten billion won poorer and one embezzler short."
"Right. Speaking of which, I can't believe Hyungtae managed to pull this off. I mean, I've seen his file. The man's credit score is lower than his IQ, which is saying something."
Before Taewoo could respond, the door to his office opened without so much as a knock. Both Alphas' heads snapped toward the intrusion, instincts sharpening, but the pheromones that wafted in were unmistakably Omega: light, floral, and Yoo let out a huff, irritatingly familiar.