An Alpha’s Interest

The city was always restless. Even late at night, skyscrapers shimmered like constellations, streets hummed with muted traffic, and somewhere far below the polished windows of CC Group’s headquarters, laughter rose from restaurants and clubs that never closed.

But inside the building’s top floor, silence reigned.

Lin Yicheng sat with flawless posture at the long glass table, the white of his shirt immaculate under the warm conference lights. His mask was in place, covering the delicate curve of his mouth and nose, the simple design lending him an air of untouchable distance.

Across from him, Gu Chengyao leaned back in his chair, one hand on the table, the other tapping rhythmically against the polished surface as he studied the man before him.

The meeting had lasted almost two hours. Assistants came and went with papers, contracts, and carefully worded clarifications. But Chengyao’s attention had been fixed on Yicheng for most of that time.

Something about the Omega unsettled him.

It wasn’t the beauty—though Yicheng was striking in his refined, understated way. It wasn’t even the calm confidence in his voice, the kind of tone one didn’t expect from most Omegas in high society.

No, it was something deeper. A sense of familiarity that Chengyao couldn’t shake.

Why do I feel like I’ve met him before?

When the final document was signed and assistants finally departed, the silence that remained was thick, almost intimate. Yicheng busied himself gathering his notes, his movements graceful yet restrained.

“Director Lin,” Chengyao’s voice broke the quiet.

Yicheng paused, his hand still on the folder. “…Yes, President Gu?”

For a long moment, Chengyao said nothing, only watching him. Then his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Why do you always wear that mask?”

The question struck sharper than Yicheng had expected.

His fingers tightened on the folder, but outwardly he remained composed. He lifted his gaze slowly, meeting Chengyao’s dark eyes.

“I wear it because of a lingering condition,” he answered evenly. “It helps me breathe more easily.”

Chengyao’s brow furrowed faintly. “A condition?”

“Since childhood,” Yicheng continued, his voice calm, perfectly practiced. “The mask protects me from allergens and dust. Doctors advised it.” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes curving politely. “I’m sure President Gu understands.”

For a moment, Chengyao only studied him. Yicheng felt the Alpha’s gaze press against him like weight, searching for cracks in his answer.

Finally, Chengyao leaned back in his chair.

“I see. It’s a pity,” he said, voice smooth but laced with something else. “It hides your expressions.”

Yicheng’s heart skipped, but he only lowered his eyes. “…Perhaps some things are better hidden.”

When Yicheng made to leave, Chengyao spoke again.

“Are you free for lunch?”

Yicheng froze. He had expected questions, even suspicion. But not this.

He turned back slowly. “…Lunch?”

Chengyao’s lips curved faintly, though his eyes remained sharp.

“Unless you prefer to keep our relationship strictly business.”

The deliberate choice of words sent a shiver down Yicheng’s spine. Our relationship…

Inside, he was a storm. To be invited like this—it was dangerous. He should refuse. Every second spent alone with Chengyao risked exposing the truth.

But deep in his chest, the boy who had once hidden behind willow branches and watched Chengyao with wide, longing eyes whispered: Say yes. Don’t run this time.

Yicheng inclined his head. “…If President Gu insists, I will oblige.”

Chengyao’s gaze lingered on him, something unreadable flickering in the Alpha’s eyes. “Good.”

The restaurant Chengyao chose was one of the most exclusive in the city—quiet, elegant, with secluded booths that guaranteed privacy. No reporters could intrude, no curious eyes would linger.

They sat by the window where sunlight spilled like gold across crystal and porcelain.

Chengyao poured the wine himself, ignoring the startled flicker in Yicheng’s eyes.

“President Gu—”

“Call me Chengyao,” he interrupted softly.

Yicheng hesitated. “…That would be improper.”

“Improper?” Chengyao arched a brow, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass. “We are business partners. Equals, in some sense. Unless you prefer distance.”

The words were casual, but the weight behind them was undeniable.

Yicheng forced composure, though his fingers curled tightly under the table. “Chengyao, then.”

The Alpha’s eyes warmed, just slightly. “…Better.”

Their meal stretched long, more conversation than food. Chengyao asked him about art, about his favorite places in the city, about whether he enjoyed quiet or noise.

Yicheng deflected with careful elegance, offering just enough to satisfy without revealing too much. But each question pressed deeper, like Chengyao was mapping his soul piece by piece.

Finally, Chengyao set his chopsticks down and leaned forward slightly.

“Director Lin,” he said slowly, “most Omegas I’ve known spend their lives seeking protection. They build their existence around the Alpha who claims them. But you…”

Yicheng’s breath caught.

“You shine on your own,” Chengyao continued, his voice lower now, intimate. “Calm. Independent. Almost untouchable.” His gaze sharpened, locking onto Yicheng’s eyes. “It makes me wonder… how much brighter you’d be with the right Alpha beside you.”

The words struck like thunder.

Yicheng’s hand trembled, nearly dropping his chopsticks. He lowered his eyes quickly, praying the mask hid the flush on his cheeks. His heart was a wildfire, torn between joy and despair.

This is what I wanted. His attention. His desire. But… not like this. Not built on a lie.

Aloud, he whispered, “President Gu flatters me. I… am content as I am.”

Chengyao tilted his head, studying him for a long, silent moment. Then he smiled faintly, a rare curve of his lips.

“Perhaps. But contentment isn’t the same as happiness.”

When the meal ended, Chengyao escorted him outside. Yicheng tried to refuse the courtesy, but the Alpha simply said, “It’s only right I walk you to your car.”

Standing by the sleek black vehicle, Chengyao’s gaze lingered on him again. There was something in those dark eyes—calm, restrained, but undeniably intent.

“Until next time, Director Lin,” Chengyao said. The words were polite, but the way he said them carried promise.

Yicheng bowed slightly before slipping into the car.

As the door closed, his composure cracked. He pressed a hand over his chest, feeling the violent tremor of his heart.

He believes I am an Omega. He desires me because of that belief.

His eyes burned, though he refused to let the tears fall.

What will he do, Chengyao… when you learn the truth?

That night, Chengyao stood by his office window, a glass of untouched wine in his hand.

The city lights reflected in his eyes, but his thoughts were elsewhere—on the Omega with the mask, with eyes that seemed to hide oceans.

For the first time in years, Gu Chengyao’s carefully controlled heart stirred with interest. Not just interest—possession.

He had chosen.

And Gu Chengyao was not a man who let go once he chose.

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