Ovgust grunted as he stepped out of brand-new black car, surveying the grand mansion with its lush garden and fountains. He grunted again when he was led into the spacious guest lounges, impeccably furnished to the highest standard. Settling onto a plush, custom-made leather sofa that clearly hadn't come cheap, he grunted once more. In his pretty head, thoughts were already spinning about what color to paint the ceiling and which wallpaper would be best suited here. He was determined to renovate everything once he became the husband of this wealthy alpha. Ovgust had no doubts about his own attractiveness: with a charming face, a slender and flexible body, seductive round buttocks, and long legs that often featured in the wet dreams of other alphas. And here he was, the third son of the ancient Dormov family, arriving to become the husband of the alpha. He preferred not to think about the fact that he was not yet a fiancé, merely a candidate. But he clearly aiming for victory. He tossed his long, shoulder-length light hair back and haughtily addressed a member of the service staff:

— Hey, you. Bring me a glass of water.

The member of the service staff, pursing his lips, bowed and slipped out of the room.

Ovgust reclined on the sofa, exhaling deeply. No alpha had ever overlooked him, and this one would be no exception. Judging by the photograph, Etienne Elzevil Rutias was not only fabulously wealthy but also incredibly hot and irresistibly attractive. Ovgust aspired to be fabulously wealthy himself, and of course, to have a stunning husband to make other, less fortunate omegas envious. However, just sitting in the room omega would not be able to win the alpha's heart, so Ovgust devised a cunning plan: seduce Etienne before the start of the official dinner. If omega had succeeded, it would have been a real success —this rich alpha would have fallen madly in love with him. Ovgust had heard that the Rutias family had strict customs about marriage, so he would be able to use Etienne without much trouble.

He walked around the room, enjoying the feeling of his leather shoes sinking into the soft pile of the luxurious carpet, then took a long sip of water. When he was alone, he turned to his pink suitcase on metal wheels. He took out a black silk negligee with lace and grinned. No man could fail to appreciate this outfit. It's time to show Mr. Etienne your exquisite taste in choosing nightwear. After changing clothes and admiring himself in the mirror, Ovgust was extremely pleased with his appearance. He put on a strict brown robe that reached almost to his ankles and went out into the corridor to meet his adventure.

— Hey, you, — he addressed a nondescript young lad dashing by, — escort me to Mr. Etienne.

— My apologies, — the clumsy fellow grumbled, pausing momentarily, — I'm just a street guard and have no knowledge of Mr. Etienne's whereabouts.

Ovgust snorted. What sort of people worked here? So ignorant. He would definitely fire them all once he married Etienne. With confident strides, he proceeded through the corridors. However, after several flights of stairs and seemingly identical lengthy hallways, his confidence waned. Disgracefully, Ovgust found himself lost. Descending further, he stumbled into some production areas. Maintaining a stony expression, he arrogantly strode past the bewildered betas laboring in the back rooms. He pulled on a door handle, which he believed led to the exit, but it revealed only a tidy closet and a sink. After standing in confusion, Ovgust, without changing his expression, walked back past the workers again. Almost unanimously, the participants in this spectacle came to the conclusion that watching Mr. Etienne's admirers was an extremely funny and stunning pastime.

Ovgust strode briskly down an unfamiliar corridor, endeavoring to disregard his own discomfiture. Why, he mused, was this place a labyrinth of endless hallways? No, once he took control here, a thorough reconfiguration was in order! And he would certainly affix more signage! Suddenly, the young man heard the click and screech of a door. A glimmer of light appeared mid-corridor. Ovgust hastened towards it, intent on exploiting the stranger as an impromptu guide, regardless of whether the idea appealed to the individual or not. The potential escort, in turn, was wholly unprepared to encounter anyone at the doorway. The full bucket he was holding in his hands was also not ready for such a turn. Dirty water fell with an expressive splash on Ovgust's robe.

— What on earth are you doing?! — Ovgust erupted, his favorite robe—crafted from exclusive fabric, worth the price of a new import car—now soiled. — Can't you see someone's walking here? What sort of incompetent staff are employed here?!

The young janitor, startled, tucked his head into his shoulders, mumbling apologies. Ovgust, now disinclined to have such a guide, snorted loudly and disapprovingly before hastening onward, muttering curses. He was definitely going to fire everyone here! And how was he to approach his future fiancé in such a robe? He traversed two more modest corridors, turning onto a broad staircase. A faint scent of detergent and soap reached his nose. The laundry room! Ovgust quickened his pace, almost running towards the coveted white door. This time, he opened it with great caution. The spacious, well-lit room was cluttered with linens and garments, some strewn directly on the floor. Behind the curtains, someone was bustling amidst the hum of washing machines. The air was thick with a soapy fragrance.

— Hey, is anyone there? I need you to clean my robe! — Ovgust said loudly, stepping onto the tiled floor.

— Yes, wait a second! – someone responded behind the curtain, rustling more intensely, - just be careful, it's slippery here!

— And so what if ... - Ovgust did not compare one with the other, and suddenly the ceiling went somewhere. The young man did not even have time to yell, as he sprawled on the wet tile. He grunted, convulsively rising. The robe, as luck would have it, fell off the shoulder, and the soaked long floors stuck to the wet soapy tiles.

— Are you all right? — the laundry worker asked, judging by the sounds, having finally finished with his basins.

— Y-yes! Just wait a moment! — Ovgust shouted, fluttering on the floor. The hands on the slippery tile were moving in different directions, — what the hell?!

He began to hysterically untie the belt of his heavy, sagging robe. It's nothing, he'll just cover himself with it, and then ask for something else to replace it! Hearing the curtain slide, Ovgust became utterly agitated, vividly imagining how he must look at that moment. In his haste, he lost his balance, tripping over his own wet robe with a foot.

— Wait a moment? But you... – the young alpha froze, eyes bulging at the sight of Ovgust's pretty, round buttocks gleaming as he sprawled on all fours across his own robe.