Chapter Text
Sinbad stepped into the office with his trademark dazzling smile, because why shouldn't he be happy? The evening had been fantastic, he'd recovered from his hangover quickly, and now, with renewed energy, he was ready to get back to work at his successful company alongside his wonderful colleagues. They, in turn, shared his good mood and greeted their boss—Sharrkan sprang to his feet and gave him a firm handshake, while Yamuraiha and Pisti paused their gossip to wave at him.
“I see you're all holding up well too,” Sinbad remarked with satisfaction, looking over the trio. “Especially you, Pisti. You were going hard on the cocktails.”
“No big deal!” She waved her hand, making it clear that the last night's consequences hadn't touched her at all. Even the dark circles under her eyes had been skillfully concealed. “Considering the quarter we just closed, I wasn't overdoing it at all.”
“Of course, dear. Our poor IT guy is now swearing he'll never go clubbing with us again,” Yamuraiha nudged her with an elbow. “That lap dance was definitely extra.”
“Hm, really? But he blushed so much, I thought he liked it.”
“He came crying to me afterward, you know? Said his honor had been violated,” Sharrkan mimicked a pitiful voice. “Just wait and see how he'll be running away from you!”
The younger employees kept discussing the aftermath of the wild night while Sinbad stood there with his arms crossed, nodding along. The whole story hadn't involved him personally, and hearing about it now, in a much soberer state, was actually rather amusing. Sharrkan gave him a pat on the back.
“Boss, you're missing all the fun! You're not an old man yet, stick around with us next time.”
“I should. The office is getting younger by the day,” Sinbad looked around and then scratched the back of his head. “I ended up hanging out with Hina for too long, reminiscing about the old days. About how we founded the company, and how we found you all.”
“That just makes you sound even more like a grandpa,” Pisti giggled.
The carefree chatter carried on, the usual outcome whenever the group gathered in the office. Watching his youngers, Sinbad really felt the sting of old-man nostalgia—it seemed like only yesterday he'd been traveling the world out of sheer enthusiasm to explore it, and now he was standing in his own company with everyone he'd managed to take under his wing, alongside old companions like Hinahoho and Dragul. No matter how extraordinary he was, there was no way he could've achieved all of this alone.
The Sindria Trading Company had started as the small business of a man who knew very little about business and had been inspired by the idea during one of his journeys. However, Sinbad was rightfully regarded as one of the great figures of his era, and through years of hard work and countless trips around the world, he built the connections and foundation that eventually established the company as one of the leading players on the international market.
Sinbad quickly came to enjoy the luxuries of a wealthy life, yet he was known not only as a successful businessman but also as a generous soul, placing great importance on helping struggling communities through both donations and volunteer work. Having witnessed poverty firsthand, he was more than determined to eradicate at least some of the world's injustice.
Overall, though, the atmosphere at the company was always a festive one. Sinbad genuinely loved the place he'd built and always aimed for something greater, while his employees shared his enthusiasm and worked for the good of their boss. He was the sun that filled the office with warmth.
“Sin-fucking-bad!”
Well, sometimes there was a thunderstorm too, and the door to one of the offices flew open with a deafening bang. A menacing bolt of lightning strode straight toward the cheerful gathering, but this had become such an ordinary occurrence that not a single smile faded.
“Ja'far! Good to see you so lively,” Sinbad greeted him. “You didn't even make it to the club. You should've stayed and relaxed with us.”
Ja'far was taken aback by such composure for a second, but immediately furrowed his brows. “Relaxing is the last thing I need, that's how companies go under. You were supposed to review the sales plan for next quarter, where is it!?”
“I haven't even made it to my office yet, why are you getting worked up?”
“I asked you two days ago!”
“And as a responsible CEO, I delegated it to the sales department. Right, guys?”
Sinbad turned to the youngers for rescue, but they suddenly became very interested in looking anywhere but at him. From their muttering, it turned out that Pisti had been supposed to handle the plan, but she'd asked Yamuraiha to do it as a favor, and she had talked Sharrkan into taking care of it instead. After that, all three of them had run off drinking with their hopeless boss. Ja'far rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Pure nightmare. I don't mind you all having fun, but at least show a shred of responsibility first,” then he shifted his stern gaze. “And give the plan back to your responsible CEO. I need him to review it.”
“Wasn't I made for more important things?” Sinbad tilted his head innocently. “Minor stuff like that are what employees are for.”
“I said you're reviewing it! And you even have the nerve to dump it on others? Look at you, all important now!”
“Well, I am, so—”
He didn't finish the sentence as Ja'far's patience was already wearing thin. Moralizing held an important place in his tightly packed schedule, yet Sinbad didn't stop him at all and merely laughed at the familiar scolding.
Well, Ja'far had been one of his best finds. Like many of the company's employees, he'd basically been picked up off the street, and Hinahoho had vouched for his training. There had certainly been plenty to work on, both in terms of qualifications and, even more so, taming his bratty personality, but together with his wife Rurumu they had managed to work an educational miracle. Through years of relentless work, Ja'far had risen to become the boss's secretary, growing so close to Sinbad that he could safely be entrusted with running the company whenever Sinbad was away.
But bundled together with such an excellent, one could even say perfect, employee came an inseparable raging beast, who made it impossible to sneak off and have fun without facing the consequences. Maybe being in charge had made Sinbad a little careless, but he'd worked hard enough to earn that right, hadn't he?
No, he was exceptional for a reason. No obstacle could stop him, so incredible and unbeatable. A couple of tricks, and even a grumbler like that would end up caught in his tenacious grasp.
“You know, working yourself to death isn't a good idea either,” Sinbad smoothly stepped closer and rested a hand on Ja'far's shoulder. “We've done a great job, the quarter's been wrapped up. How about showing a little mercy this time?”
Ja'far first lowered his eyes to the bare chest teasingly visible beneath Sinbad's open shirt, then looked back up at his face with the same dark frown. The others off to the side tensed up. It really was a risky move. Though more than anything, they were curious whether he'd take the bait. Ja'far's breath hitched at first, but then the corner of his eye twitched with irritation.
“I was going to give you a day. You'll finish it by lunch!” He grabbed Sinbad by the collar, giving him a good shake. “And you'll sign this too, after you've made the revisions, or I swear I'll kill you. Got it!?”
Once he'd vented to his heart's content, Ja'far shoved the folder into his hopeless boss's hands and went back to hiss at his desk. Not without venomously adding under his breath that Sinbad had gotten way too shameless with trying out his damn flirting on him, and that he was so sick of babysitting him. It was probably best not to set foot in his office for the next couple of hours—he'll definitely bite.
Sinbad sighed in disappointment and began straightening the stretched-out shirt. Yamuraiha was the first to break the silence.
“That wasn't just bold, that was nearly suicide,” she said, her voice carrying equal parts fear and admiration.
“Our CEO really is the most reckless man in the world,” Pisti chimed in.
“Come on, it was worth a try. He'll give in one day.”
Sharrkan gave his back a couple of hearty pats. “You say that an awful lot. Ja'far's an alpha, and impenetrable at that. But hope dies last, right?”
“Ah, you're all still green. Persistence is what matters,” Sinbad said with a knowing grin, wagging his index finger in the air. “He's already under my spell. I built this company from scratch, don't tell me I can't get rid of a little extra paperwork.”
“Good luck then! We're always rooting for you,” Pisti cheered him on, and the other two nodded.
Despite his complete failure, Sinbad walked toward the stairs with a victorious aura. In his office, he tossed the folder onto the desk (there was still plenty of time till lunch, after all) and lazily began sorting through the emails. Gradually, he found himself looking out at the panoramic view more and more often, until he finally rose from his chair and stood by the window, thoughtfully gazing over the city sprawling beneath the high-rise.
He really was fucking incredible. Look how much he'd accomplished. Sure, it hadn't been without its problems, but in the end everything had worked out.
Who would've thought that being born an omega, he'd turn his natural weakness into one of his greatest weapons?
Sinbad was ready to knock himself off when he first found out. A man as phenomenal as himself had turned out not just to be a non-alpha, but a completely opposite. Not that it changed anything socially, as alphas and omegas were treated as equals, but it dealt a devastating blow to his ego. The more influence he gained, the more carefully he made sure that fact never came to light, and his considerable wealth was a great help.
He usually dealt with his heat through random encounters with betas and suppressants, but when the time was right, his scent became a tactic. Over the years, Sinbad had cultivated such a flawless image of dominance that it never even crossed anyone's mind that he wasn't an alpha. People chalked up his ability to win others over to charisma and business acumen, and of course he possessed both. But he wasn't picky about the means.
His pheromones were stronger than those of an average omega, and with his striking appearance and physique, Sinbad considered himself a winner at least here. And he shamelessly took advantage of it whenever he needed to secure connections or get a contract signed at any cost. His rich scent clouded people's minds, and under Sinbad's gentle guidance, anyone would play along with what he wanted. Fellow omegas were the easiest, alphas took a bit more effort, but somehow even betas ended up utterly enchanted.
Well, naturally, there were those who simply wouldn't budge. Ja'far, for example. The list ended here for now. Sinbad valued him as his right-hand man and as an exceptionally responsible person, but the fact that he was immune placed him higher in Sinbad's imaginary rankings. That simply wouldn't do. On top of that, he'd won at biological roulette, and Sinbad just couldn't get it out of his head.
That's why even the smallest defeat would prove that he truly had the right to stand above everyone else. Even if this game was entirely one-sided.
While he was lost in thought, the laptop screen went dark. Slightly more depressed than before, Sinbad returned to his routine of emails and paperwork. When would he finally be such a big shot that he'd never have to deal with any of this again?
Probably never, because Ja'far would force him to do all that even if he became the sole ruler of the world.
───
The logistics department where Dragul worked was four floors down, and taking the stairs was a decent change of pace for Ja'far, especially since he barely left his desk even during the lunch break. And how could so many people possibly work in an open space? The slightest distraction within earshot was enough to throw Ja'far off his working rhythm, and with the constant chatter, he'd have gone mad from irritation, so Sinbad generously gave him a small private office. There had been no objections—with the amount of work Ja'far brought into the company, it was a tiny price to pay.
On the way, he exchanged a few words with Spartos, whom he found at an unusual work place, but Ja'far didn't ask any questions. Judging by his bright red eyes, the night had hit him pretty hard, but he held up well and kept typing quickly. He hid strangely behind the screen, though, but the main thing was that he was working.
At last, Ja'far knocked on the right door, and after a brief word, he stepped inside. Potted plants and souvenirs from travels on the shelves helped liven up the atmosphere, unlike the extremely minimalist office of the secretary. When the thick folder of documents landed on his desk, Dragul looked up from the screen and smiled.
“Thank you. The quarter has only just begun, and you're not slowing down even for a day.”
“Someone has to keep things in order.”
“But you should still make time to rest and socialize with your colleagues,” Dragul pointed out. It seemed he'd already said this to Ja'far a few years ago, and maybe a year ago too. It wouldn't be surprising if he said the same thing again sometime in the future. “You were nowhere to be seen yesterday. You'll ruin your health this way.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine,” Ja'far replied evenly. “Apparently, those who celebrated are the ones feeling worse.”
“That's the joy of youth. They'll recover quickly.”
“I'm sure they will. But it would be nice if someone didn't ask for an encore.”
“A certain one is giving you a headache again?” Dragul asked, even though there was only one possible reason Ja'far could sigh so heavily.
“Every day is nothing new. He doesn't even understand how much trouble he causes. And then I have to persuade him to work, as if I were the one who forced him to become director!”
As he told about what had happened that morning, as well as the days before, Ja'far unconsciously began pacing back and forth. Dragul was one of the few reasonable people who understood him at least somewhat, and it often happened that he became the person Ja'far vented his frustrations to. The older man caught himself thinking once again that, in moments like these when Ja'far was getting carried away, he really reminded his younger self, and that was quite amusing.
“I'm still not over what he pulled last month. Bailed right before the contract was signed and left me to clean up the whole mess! Lecturing him does absolutely nothing, I just want to hit him a few times! What did I ever do to deserve this?” Ja'far grumbled with a thoroughly miserable expression.
“Of course, geniuses have their quirks, but he can be reasonable when it matters. After all, founding the company was his achievement.”
“Which is exactly why he can't relax. Who's going to keep everything running? All he ever thinks about is partying and drinking. And then I have to humiliate myself in front of the entire office, yelling at him so he'll, for once, actually do his own job!”
“How cruel. You just won't stop tormenting him,” Dragul laughed amiably. “Didn't you think a different approach might work out?”
Ja'far frowned in utter confusion, and this reaction only cheered up the older man even more. Two stubborn, insufferable fools, simply ended up on opposite sides. Dragul deliberately glanced around, despite the fact that there was no one else in the office, and beckoned Ja'far closer.
“Yesterday, Hinahoho and I were keeping an eye on him. Sinbad got so melancholic when he drank too much.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for him or what?”
“That's not what I mean. Aren't you curious what he was crying about?” Dragul continued after the other's nod. Gossip was so contagious it infected even the most resilient. “Well, besides the fact that no one loves or spoils him, a certain someone despises his achievements. And that it really hurts, hearing that from his own secretary.”
Ja'far arched an eyebrow even more skeptically. “What nonsense. I've never denied that he's achieved great heights, and as I said—”
“But when was the last time you praised him?”
“Why? Who needs praise just for doing their job?”
“It's always easier to judge others by yourself, but different people require different methods. Try being a little gentler with him. Maybe then Sinbad will become more responsible too.”
Dragul spoke in a tone as though this should have been obvious, but Ja'far was no less doubtful. For now, he filed this advice away on the same shelf as Hey, you don't have to spend sixteen hours a day on paperwork and You know, people are actually interested in talking to you about things other than work, that kind of ridiculous stuff.
“I'm curious whether that's genuine or if he put you up to it. But I'll give it a thought.”
“I'm glad you actually listened this time. I suppose I've kept you longer than I should have.”
Naturally, Dragul had no intention of kicking him out, but if Ja'far didn't finish everything he'd planned for the day, it would spill over into the night on an even larger scale, and the most he could do for him was give him a chance to get at least some sleep. As Ja'far made his way back upstairs, unfamiliar thoughts began creeping into his mind.
Perhaps he really was being too strict, wasn't he?
Well, so far he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a normal conversation with Sinbad. It was always either reminders, shouting, or both, but it wasn't Ja'far's fault that Sinbad couldn't stick to deadlines or concentrate for even a little while. On the other hand, such childish methods might actually work on an attention-hungry narcissist.
Oh, there wasn't much he wouldn't do for the sake of productivity.