The silence of the executive suite was broken by the sharp, rhythmic click of high heels against the marble floor.
Marcus entered the office with a deliberate, practiced air of professionalism, though his eyes were alight with a nervous energy. Beside him walked a woman who seemed carved from amber and silk—a Beta of striking, symmetrical beauty, her hair a cascade of polished mahogany and her eyes a cool, detached emerald. She had been vetted, paid a king's ransom, and briefed on the intensity of the man behind the heavy doors of the resting suite.
As they crossed the main office, Marcus didn't spare a glance for the small figure hunched over the mountain of audit folders.
Luca didn't look up either. He kept his head down, his pen moving in a rhythmic, strenuous scratch across the blueprints. But beneath the messy fringe of his hair, his silver eyes narrowed. He felt the shift in the air—the pheromonal charge of the woman and the sharp, clinical intent radiating from Marcus.
