"So wait, run that by me again?"

Gio rolled his eyes, wincing at the gritty feel. Heading across the dingy break room, he poured his fifth coffee of the day. "The head of the financial department is a guy I've slept with," he said, careful to stick to the summary. It didn't help keep the details from flashing through his mind, but he was tired enough that he couldn't have gotten it up with a crane.

"You slept with your boss?" Curtis sounded like he'd just woken up.

Envy so strong that it felt like heartburn twisted Gio's guts. That piece of shit car was trying to kill him. It had been after midnight by the time he'd gotten back to his apartment. Downing his coffee, he grimaced. Maybe it actually was heartburn.

"He wasn't my boss," he hissed into his ancient cell phone, his lips up against the microphone. There was no one else in the break room, but he wasn't taking any chances. "And he's still not my boss."

"Your boss six times removed is still your damned boss, Romero," Curtis grumbled. "Okay, let me think about this. Is he causing issues?"

Gio rubbed his forehead. "Not exactly."

Curtis snorted. "Explain to me what that means."

"It means I don't know yet." Leaning his head back, he tried to shake the tension out of his neck and shoulders. "He's... nice."

"Nice."

"Yeah, nice. He tried to fix my car last night." Gio would have felt worse about how cranky he'd been, but he'd blown his food budget for the week on the fluid and hoses to get the damned car running. He didn't have the energy left for shame.

"That piece of shit? He must be a saint. You think he's getting attached?"

"That's what I'm worried about." A slow-moving herd of dead-eyed corporate zombies shuffled into the break room, and Gio glanced at the clock on the wall. "Lunch time."

"So go outside and pretend you're having a smoke. This is a real problem, Romero," Curtis snapped.

"Oh, I'm aware. How's your hangover?" Gio asked as he headed for the elevators. There was a smoker's patio down on level three that was deserted during the lunch rush.

"Fuck you, man. I was up till dawn helping the gang squad with surveillance."

"Sorry, you're breaking up." Gio blew into the receiver until the line crackled. "I'm in an elevator."

"Asshole," Curtis said, but there was no heat to it. Gio almost felt bad for the guy, but he was living off break room coffee and a stale granola bar he'd found in the back of a cabinet.

The air outside was warm, and it felt good against his cheeks. The breeze swept away the smell of cigarette smoke that rose from the trash cans and furniture and left the air crisp. Leaning against the railing, Gio stared down at the busy intersection below.

"I gotta ask, man. Do you think the mission is compromised?" Curtis said after a moment.

"No." Gio didn't even have to think about his answer.

"Thank fucking God. You have no idea how much paperwork you just saved me."

Gio rolled his eyes. "Prick."

"Hey," Curtis said, ignoring the insult. "This could be a blessing in disguise. This guy is high up in the food chain, right? If you get close to him, you'll have access to the executive block."

Incredulous, Gio pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. "Did you," he said a moment later, "just seriously suggest that I sleep with this guy for access?"

"That is against regulations, and I would never do that," Curtis said, the flat recitation at odds with his snide tone. "But I'm saying, maybe you have dinner with the guy and see how it goes. It never hurts to have the boss on your side."

"And if I get fired for fraternization?" Gio snapped.

"Then we'll figure something out, but look..." There was a long pause, papers shuffling. "You've been on this job for almost four months now, and we've got nothing. Taking a little risk now isn't going to endanger anything. You'll be out of here in eight weeks, and this guy can go back to banging his secretary."

"He's not that kind of guy." The words were out before he could stop them, and Gio ground his teeth. "I mean," he said carefully, "he's not the kind to go out with an employee."

"So make it worth his while," Curtis said, the kind of slime normally associated with slugs and used car salesmen coating his voice.

"Fuck off. I'm not whoring myself out for information that isn't even there." He slammed his fist down on the railing and stood up. "I've gotta get back to work."

Hanging up on Curtis's protests, he took a few moments to breathe the fresh air and think about California and the smell of the sea. He'd take time off after this. Go home and see his folks. Maybe he'd get lucky and Papa would kill him for being gone so long.

He dragged his feet as long as he could before heading back to his cubicle, but the room was still deserted when he threw himself down in his chair. Slumping over his keyboard, he rubbed his burning eyes until he could feel the grain on his fingerprints imprinted on them. It wasn't an improvement, but it did make him feel slightly more awake.

"Hot job." A stack of papers landed on his desk with a bang. Cleo, the replacement for the still-absent Frank, wove her way through the desks, dropping work without glancing up.

"Goody," Gio muttered, grabbing the stack by its cheerful green rubber band. He could already feel his brain cells screaming in protest. Or maybe it was the coffee.

Halfway through the stack, he blinked, and the clock jumped forward an hour. Shaking himself, he tried to figure out if anyone had noticed, then wondered why he cared. The guy two seats down spent the whole shift snoring, and the management didn't seem to care. Gio tossed the papers into his tray to work on tomorrow and loaded up solitaire.

Between the nap and taking it easy, he felt almost human by the time he shuffled out of the building. The day was nice, not too hot, and he could almost forget that he had no idea what he was going to have for dinner. Damn Curtis and his goddamned budgetary requirements. The least he could have done is set Gio up with a credit card.

Taking the long way to keep the sun warm on his shoulders, Gio didn't notice the legs sticking out from under his car until he was right on top of them. They were nice legs, wrapped in stained jeans that showed off the thick muscles of the thighs. The car blocked him from seeing anything else, and he was absolutely not disappointed by that fact.

He didn't need to see a face to know what was going on here. His blood boiled as he cursed Marcus in his head. The man couldn't take no for an answer, could he? He would have gotten around to fixing the damned car, eventually. He didn't need Richie Rich to hire him a mechanic.

"Excuse me, but what the fuck are you doing with my car?" he asked, less calm than he was aiming for. The body twisted as the guy squirmed out from under the car, accenting a very nice package and displaying flashes of tanned skin where a dirty t-shirt rode up. Dragging his eyes away, Gio focused on his ever-present annoyance.

"You did a good job with the hoses. I'm impressed." Marcus, dirty and grease smeared, rolled to his feet.

Gio gaped at him, shock and fury battling in his head, an ache that spanned from temple to temple. "You... You... Son of a..." He snapped his mouth shut with a painful click and pulled his phone out. "I'm calling security."

Marcus winced. "I wasn't comfortable with you driving around in a wreck waiting to happen. I'm sorry. I thought I'd be done before you came out, but there was an issue with one of the belts."

"I could have handled this," Gio shouted, his knuckles aching with the desire to throw a punch. He'd given up asking if his actions were in keeping with his cover. Who cared? He was going to beat some sense into this alpha if it killed him.

Screw Curtis and his fucking plans. Gio wasn't going to let this slide.

"I know."

Glaring up at the alpha, Gio examined every wrinkle and line. He looked and sounded sincere, but that was no excuse. "Just because I am an omega does not mean I need some big, strong alpha to change my oil and check my tires. I know how to fix my damn car." He'd kept the junk heap running for four months now, after all.

Rubbing a greasy hand over his face and leaving a streak of black in his mustache, Marcus groaned. "I just didn't think you should have to. I know how much you make, and unless you're a secret millionaire, repairing this car would mean eating ramen for the next six months." He glanced through his fingers, dark eyes still so fucking cheerful. "You're not, are you?"

Gio looked away, squinting in the glare of sunlight off the skyscraper. Marcus was a mess, coated in dirt and grime, but he looked like he'd won the lottery. Gio couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy like that. Just... happy.

"Not what?" he asked after a moment, exhausted all of a sudden.

"A secret millionaire?" Marcus teased, leaning down to grab a couple of tools.

"No." The sun was disappearing behind the other buildings, and Gio already missed the warmth sinking into his skin. "You think I'd work here if I didn't need the paycheck?" He sounded more than tired, even to his own ears. There was a hollow ring of defeat in every syllable.

"Well, on the one hand, I would have been horribly embarrassed if you were," Marcus said, his voice gentle. "On the other, it seems callous to be happy about something like that." He was standing close, but not touching, one hand ready to steady Gio if he needed it.

"Hoisted on your own catch twenty-two," Gio said, shuffling around him to yank the car door open. It swung open with a silent glide, and he wanted to be less impressed than he was. He threw his bag into the passenger seat and turned back to Marcus.

The alpha was cleaning up, a sliver of dark eyes the only sign that he was watching. He didn't say a word as he put the last of his tools into a suitcase-sized toolbox that Gio hadn't noticed until then.

"Thanks," Gio said, the words torn from him. "I didn't need your help, and I'm calling security the next time you do something like this, but I appreciate the thought. Now back off," he growled.

Marcus didn't laugh, but the sides of his eyes crinkled. "I'm sensing that you're trying to tell me something," he said. There was no playfulness in his voice, though, and he nodded. "Just start her up and make sure I didn't forget to connect anything, and I'll get out of your hair."

Instead of the relief that he was suspecting, Gio felt a twinge of regret. He'd been right about Marcus. He was a nice guy, typical alpha tendency to ignore anyone else's wishes aside, and it was a pity that Giorgio Romero couldn't take him home to meet his family. Giorgio Romero wouldn't exist in two and a half more months.

He turned the key in the ignition, and it roared to life immediately, no clunks, clangs, bangs or sputters. He stared at the dash as the many warning lights flickered and went out. No more 'check engine' or 'service needed' glowing in his face all the time. This car sounded like it was ready for Route 66.

Opening his mouth, he couldn't think of anything to say, so he shut it again. The door closed just as silently, with a satisfying click as the latch engaged, and the seatbelt rolled out with the perfect tension. Gio waited for Marcus to roll his equipment out of the way, then he pulled out of his parking spot and headed home.

He didn't regret leaving the alpha behind. He didn't.