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.
He's more beautiful than any woman I've ever vetted for the Boss, Marcus thought, a sudden, sharp pang of interest tightening his chest. Marcus had always preferred men, but he usually went for the polished, corporate types. This boy, with his oversized sweater and his problems, felt like a challenge of a different sort. He felt like a rare, fragile antique that someone had accidentally left out in the rain.
"Are you feeling any better, Luca?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping into a softer, more intimate register. "The air is clearer down here. The Boss's… energy doesn't reach the lobby."
Luca let out a soft, rhythmic breath, his eyes half-closed behind his glasses. "A little. Thank you, Marcus. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me."
Marcus smiled, his eyes tracing the curve of Luca's mouth. "You're a long way from home, kid. A boy like you… I'm surprised you don't have someone waiting for you. A girlfriend, maybe? Someone to look after you when you've had a day like this?"
Luca internally recoiled at the suggestive tilt of Marcus's head, but he didn't pull away. This was an opening. He needed a pipeline of information about Malcolm Ford that didn't come from a sterile file or a grainy surveillance feed. He needed the gossip of a loyal assistant.
"No," Luca whispered, his voice small and weary. "No girlfriend. I've got too much on my plate—studies, my uncle, the bills. I haven't had a moment to even think about dating. It's a luxury I can't afford."
Marcus hummed, a sympathetic sound. "A shame. A face like yours shouldn't be going to waste in a library."
Luca shifted his weight, looking up at Marcus with innocent curiosity. "What about the Boss? He's so… intense. And so handsome. Does he have someone? A wife? A partner who handles that… who handles him?"
Marcus let out a short, cynical laugh as the elevator hit the 40th floor. "The Boss? No. Not a soul. People call him 'The Heartless' for a reason, Luca. I've seen the most beautiful women in the country—women who could start wars with a smile—throw themselves at him. They've begged just to spend a single night in his penthouse. They've offered him everything."
"And?" Luca pressed, his eyes wide.
"And he sends them home before the champagne even gets cold," Marcus sighed. "He has no interest. None. He treats seduction like a bug in his software—something to be patched out and ignored. He lives for the company, he's never been interested in anyone."
Marcus looked at the elevator doors, then back at Luca, his expression turning thoughtful. "Sometimes I think he just hasn't found 'the one' yet. Or maybe 'the one' doesn't exist in the version of reality he lives in. He's looking for something the world hasn't produced yet."
Then, Marcus's eyes sharpened. He tightened his grip on Luca's arm, his gaze becoming protective and slightly territorial. "Why do you ask, Luca? You aren't… interested in him, are you?"
Luca flinched. He shook his head vigorously, a pink flush creeping up his neck. "Me? Oh, no! No, Marcus. I… I don't even like men. He just terrified me. I couldn't imagine anyone being able to stand by a man like that. He's like a mountain made of ice."
Marcus relaxed visibly, a small, relieved smirk playing on his lips. "Good. Keep it that way. You're a smart kid. Don't even let the thought cross your mind. Even if you did like men, the Boss… well, he doesn't do men. Not ever. He's strictly into the traditional Alpha-Female dynamic, and even then, he barely tolerates it. A man—even an Omega man—wouldn't even register on his radar. You'd be invisible to him."
Invisible? Dahmer thought, his internal voice cold and sharp as a razor. I'm the only thing in his blood right now.
"I understand," Luca said aloud, his voice humble. "He's way out of my league anyway. I'm just a student."
"Exactly," Marcus said as the elevator doors finally slid open to the bustling, bright lobby. "You stay in your lane, and I'll make sure you survive these two weeks. I might even take you out for a proper drink once you're feeling better. To celebrate your first day."
"I'd like that, Marcus," Luca said, his smile sweet and devastatingly detached.
Marcus walked him all the way to the curb, where a sleek black taxi was waiting to take the poor intern back to 3rd Street. He watched as Luca climbed into the back seat, looking small and fragile against the tinted glass.
As the car pulled away, Marcus stood on the sidewalk for a long moment, adjusting his tie. He felt a strange, restless energy—the kind he usually felt after a high-stakes deal. He was already planning how to get Luca alone again.
Inside the car, the moment the doors locked, Luca's posture snapped back into iron. He pulled off his glasses and wiped the sweat from his brow with a silk handkerchief he pulled from a hidden pocket.
"He doesn't do men," Dahmer murmured to the empty car, his eyes reflecting the passing streetlights like a wolf's. "He's heartless. He's looking for something the world hasn't produced."
"Well, Malcolm," he whispered. "The world just produced me. And I'm going to be the most expensive 'one' you've ever met."