She clearly wasn't her, but he'd gone out of his way to locate where she worked, and all for what? The inevitable disappointnt of her rejection.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a counter thought crept in, reminding him once again of the powers he possessed, but this ti, its advantages.
With a single intense gaze, he could bend her to his will, extracting every detail he desired while leaving her unaware of the depth of the information he had acquired.
No, not that way. His damned righteous thoughts! It was the sa thing that led to the death of Cassandra in the first place, and now, here he was, judging with that sa ntality.
How had he, a cold-hearted vampire, commonly known without the existence of one in the first place, get from being a ruthless prince of the underworld – to this? Amidst his contemplation, a na resurfaced in his thoughts like a flickering light in the darkness –
redith.
"Ah yes, how did I forget?" He whispered to himself, chuckling softly, breaking the tension of his spiraling thoughts with a glimr of amusent.
From the distance, his gaze fixed upon a towering structure adorned with the imposing letters 'ABS,' it beca apparent that he had finally arrived at the elusive destination he had been tirelessly searching for.
The tower stood tall among the surrounding shorter buildings, its prominence signaling the place he sought.
Bringing his car to a halt, he fixated his gaze upon the entrance of the building. Its glass doors and transparent walls allowed him to observe the bustling activity within without straining his enhanced vision.
Despite the evident liveliness, there was no sign of the woman he had encountered monts ago.
She's likely elsewhere in the office. He speculated within himself. With that thought in mind, he unfastened his seatbelt and gracefully erged from the vehicle. He adjusted his sleeves and collar, closed the car door and stole one last glimpse of his reflection on the glass window.
I look conspicuous.
Atlas had once comnted on his resemblance to an Earl from the dieval era. Although not his exact words, Marcus had taken note of his observation and embarked on a proper shopping spree with Atlas's assistance.
His attire now consisted of a precisely tailored black dress shirt that hugged his leanly muscled form, and sleek Prada pants, exuding a tiless sophistication. However, despite his efforts, he stood as a stark contrast to the average man.
Well, I'll be in and out in no ti. He thought to himself with one last sigh and began to take long strides towards the entrance.
***
As Marcus crossed the threshold into the building, a subtle shift in the atmosphere greeted him. There was an evident mob of lingering gazes of the won within the vicinity, their eyes drawn to him with a mix of curiosity, fascination, and desire.
It was a familiar occurrence, one he had grown accustod to over the nurous years of his life. Yet, in this setting, a question gnawed at the back of his mind – what set him apart from the sea of n that also populated the room?
Neglecting their attention with a composed deanor, he navigated through the bustling space. Won whispered among themselves, stealing glances in his direction, as if trying to decipher the enigma he embodied. He paid them little heed, focusing instead on his purpose.
Approaching the sleek front desk, he was greeted by a receptionist, whose attempt at a flirtatious smile fell flat, revealing more of a chilling undertone than warmth. The woman, in her late forties, wore a tightly pulled back bun that accentuated the lines on her face.
Her heavily mascaraed eyelashes fluttered in an exaggerated manner as she attempted to maintain eye contact with him, there was a hopeless hint of desperation beneath her fa??ade.
His discerning nature saw through the charade, recognizing the emptiness behind the superficial flirtation.
Maintaining an air of polite indifference, he addressed the receptionist with a calm and asured tone, "Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon sir, welco to ABS Headquarters, how may I be of help?" Her words ca in hushed tones, barely audible to ordinary ears, he imagined. But thanks to his heightened hearing abilities, he was able to catch every word.
In response, he leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a husky tone, matching the energy she struggled to convey. He could sense a subtle change in her breathing as she closed the distance between them. Her willingness to assist him seed to go beyond professionalism.
"I'm in need of an apartnt. Can you point
in the right direction to find one here?"
"Yes, sir. Please, follow ," she replied, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
Her mannerisms intrigued Marcus mostly because he hadn't exerted any supernatural charm or used his powers on her. It seed that the receptionist was naturally drawn to his presence, perhaps responding to his charisma or the air of mystery that surrounded him.
If this behavior was commonplace, he thought, it might indicate a problem with the managent and their approach to professionalism and boundaries – not that he cared, it was no business of his.
It would've been disconcerting to another, but it wasn't to him, mostly because he'd lived all his days with such reactions. Most ti, he never really needed to try hard but there were tis that called for desperate asures. This is not one of them.
The receptionist led him down a corridor, passing by rows of cubicles where busy agents were engrossed in their work. The office had a modern aesthetic, with sleek furniture and large windows that let in an abundance of natural light.
The sound of ringing phones and the low hum of conversation filled the air.
Finally, they reached a door adorned with a sign that read 'SM'.
The woman gestured toward it and spoke in a hushed tone, attempting to maintain her professionalism despite her palpable attraction towards him.
"You can go right in, the person inside will attend to you."
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