I’m alone in the office.
I walk over to the desk where Blue probably works. It looks empty, but that’s just an illusion. There’s a thin seam running along the surface, probably where a laptop slides out from underneath.
The chair is very comfortable, a typical executive seat. I imagine Blue practically disappearing in it with his small frame.
Then I walk to the window and look out over the city. My gaze drifts across the neighboring skyscrapers, the DevApp building being the closest one, and a bit farther away, Ferro Development, owned by Ennio Ferro. Then my eyes settle on the ocean visible about a mile away. Its deep blue surface catches my attention for a moment, and without really knowing why, I start thinking about Marcel’s eyes.
They always reminded me of the sky over the ocean… hiding some secrets, and then my thoughts cut off. What were they hiding? Nothing good, that’s for sure.
I squeeze my own eyes shut, pushing away thoughts of Marcel, suppressing the hunger he used to stir in me. I was in love with him for a year and a half, and now what do I feel? Pain and bitterness. Mostly anger. Yeah, definitely a lot of anger.
The door opens behind me. Simon steps in, holding it open for Blue Lowen, who walks in with a transparent tablet in his hand.
I catch a fragment of their conversation.
"Fine, set them for tomorrow at 10:30. And cancel the meeting with Mr. Carson. The matter is already taken care of."
"Of course, I’ll do it right away," Simon replies before closing the door behind him.
Blue walks straight to his desk, completely ignoring my very obvious presence by the window.
He sets the tablet down and presses something on the side of the desk. A thin laptop with a transparent screen slides out. He sits down and starts typing an email, still ignoring me completely.
What an asshole.
And he’s my new boss.
I turn back toward the window, focusing on the city again while irritation slowly creeps in.
The room is now filled with Blue’s scent, detergent from his dark gray, perfectly tailored suit, and I can even pick up his shampoo, something cool and minty with a hint of eucalyptus.
My sense of smell as an alpha is sharp enough to catch every nuance. I can even detect the leather of his shoes and the faint trace of tea he must have been drinking.
Slowly, I turn just enough to watch him while he types. His slender fingers move over the keyboard, fast and smooth, almost effortless. Words flow without pauses, corrections, or backtracking. It surprises me that he doesn’t dictate his emails. Who even writes them manually anymore? Most people don’t bother, but clearly Blue is different.
I notice how delicate his fingers are, his nails neatly trimmed, unpainted but polished and well cared for.
I also catch his profile.
Damn, he really does look a lot like Marcel.
What the fuck? Fate has a seriously twisted sense of humor. He has the same refined, clean, beautifully shaped nose, and those full, sweet lips.
A slight shiver runs through me. I remember reading about imprint theory. The more someone resembles your True Mate, the more attractive they seem.
Is it possible Blue is my High Mate? That would be funny. Almost twisted.
Unfortunately, I don’t detect any trace of anything that could be recognized with certainty as his Allure scent.
But that would be something if, because of his similarities to Marcel, I grew some weird attraction toward him, haha…
Eventually, Blue finishes his email, closes the laptop, and slides it back under the desk. He picks up his transparent tablet and stands, and only then does he turn toward me.
Our eyes meet, and he says,
"You’re late. I was expecting you two hours ago."
What a warm welcome, I think, but I don’t say it out loud. I just shrug slightly.
