The executive elevator descended in a heavy, pressurized silence, the digital floor counter ticking down from 102 in a rhythmic blur of red light.
Marcus held Luca by the elbow, his grip firm but strangely lingering. As the shaken intern leaned into him, Marcus found himself looking down at the crown of the boy's head, then at the sharp, elegant line of his jaw. Up close, even with the pallor of sickness and the messy hair, Luca Vane was… distracting.
Marcus had spent years in the orbit of the world's most elite Alphas and Omegas. He had seen supermodels, heiresses, and starlets walk through Malcolm Ford's doors. But there was something about this boy—a symmetry to his features, a clarity to his skin that seemed almost porcelain—that made everyone else Marcus had ever known look like a rough draft.
