Eye for Adrian

Eyes for Adrian – Part Two Chapter Two: The Dinner

By evening, the house had shifted into a kind of quiet frenzy. The staff moved like a well-trained orchestra every movement rehearsed, every detail fine-tuned for the performance ahead. And make no mistake, that’s what tonight was: a performance.

Adrian hadn’t told me much. Only that we were attending a “small gathering” in the city and that I should “wear something that commands attention, but not pity.”

Cryptic as always.

The gown laid out on my bed was deep emerald silk, the kind that shimmered differently depending on the light. Off-the-shoulder, fitted at the waist, with a skirt that flared just enough to whisper of elegance without inviting frivolity. On top of it sat a black velvet box containing a diamond choker that caught the fading sunlight like shards of ice.

I didn’t ask who chose it. In this house, there were no accidents.

When Adrian came to collect me, his face gave away nothing but his hand lingered at the crook of my arm longer than usual as we descended the stairs. In the car, his cane rested beside him, unused; he seemed to navigate his blindness with an ease that made you forget it existed—until you remembered the note.

We arrived at a towering glass building downtown, the city lights glinting off its mirrored surface. Inside, the air hummed with soft jazz, murmured conversations, and the clink of crystal.

It wasn’t a small gathering. This was power disguised as hospitality men in tailored suits, women in gowns that dripped wealth, each handshake weighted with unspoken transactions.

Adrian’s grip on my arm tightened slightly. “Describe the room,” he murmured.

I hesitated. The note’s words whispered through my head: You were brought here to be his eyes.

“There are about thirty people,” I said softly. “Most are gathered near the central table champagne, hors d’oeuvres, silver trays. There’s a woman in red by the piano she’s watching you.”

He smirked faintly. “Describe her.”

“Tall, early forties, hair in a chignon. She’s pretending not to notice you noticing her.”

Adrian’s thumb brushed my wrist. “Good.”

The night unfolded in fragments introductions I didn’t understand, coded exchanges over glasses of wine, and the subtle choreography of people who lived by influence. Adrian moved through it like a conductor, using me to fill in the details he couldn’t see.

Then, halfway through the evening, I noticed him.

A man in a charcoal suit, standing at the far end of the room, watching me. Not Adrian me. His eyes were sharp, assessing, and when I met them, he tilted his glass in a gesture that was almost…familiar.

The moment I looked away, a folded napkin appeared on the tray of a passing waiter, delivered to my hand without a word.

Inside, in the same slanted handwriting as before:

Ever,

If you want answers, leave through the side garden in ten minutes. Come alone.

My heart pounded. I glanced at Adrian. His face was calm, his attention on the conversation at hand but his grip on my arm was firmer now, almost as if he could sense the note in my hand without touching it.

Ten minutes. Alone.

The silk and gold cage was starting to feel smaller.