Eye for Adrian

Eyes for Adrian – Part Two Chapter Three – The Garden

The ballroom was a world of gold and glass chandeliers dripping crystals that fractured the light into a thousand tiny suns, music winding like smoke through the air, and conversations that felt rehearsed, like everyone was reciting lines from the same play.

Adrian was in his element. He sat beside me, one hand lightly resting on the curve of my chair, speaking in that low, composed voice of his to a man I only vaguely recognized from a business magazine. His sightless eyes never roamed, yet somehow I felt watched not with vision, but with presence. He felt my every movement, my every breath, as though my body was a string tied to his fingers.

I could hardly focus on the music or the glittering crowd because of the note in my clutch that single folded piece of paper that had been slipped into my hand by someone I didn’t see. Ten minutes. That’s all it said.

Ten minutes for what? Ten minutes until what?

The message pulsed in my head like a countdown clock, each second a loud tick against my ribcage.

Adrian’s voice wove into my awareness again. “… and you’ll find the returns far exceed the projections. Of course, timing is critical in these matters.”

His fingertips brushed the back of my chair a barely-there touch that somehow felt like a warning.

I smiled politely at the two men, then leaned closer to Adrian. “I think I need some fresh air,” I said softly.

He turned his head slightly, as if measuring something in my tone. “You’re pale,” he observed.

“I’ll be fine. Just a few minutes.”

There was a pause, long enough for me to feel it. Then he inclined his head. “Don’t be long, Ever.”

It wasn’t a request.

I rose, my legs shaky in the silk dress, and slipped between guests, my heart thudding in time with the soft clink of champagne glasses.

The garden doors were heavy oak, but they opened easily into the cool night. The air outside was thick with the scent of roses and earth a relief after the warm perfume-heavy atmosphere of the ballroom. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron hooks, casting honey-colored light across gravel paths.

I followed the curve of the path away from the doors, my heels crunching softly. My skin prickled as I walked farther into the shadows, every instinct telling me to turn back.

Then I saw him leaning against a low stone wall at the edge of the garden, just as though he belonged there. Tall, in a charcoal suit that caught the moonlight on its fine threads. His face was partly shadowed, but his eyes sharp, alert found mine instantly.

“You came,” he said, his voice pitched low, urgent.

I hesitated several steps away from him. “Who are you?”

“Someone who doesn’t have long,” he replied. “Call me Daniel.”

The name itched at the edges of my memory. Had I overheard it once in the mansion? In the clipped tone Adrian used when on the phone, when I knew I wasn’t supposed to listen?

“You left this,” I said, holding up the note between two fingers.

“Yes.” His gaze swept the garden not nervous, but alert, as though every movement mattered. “You’re in danger, Ever.”

I almost laughed a short, bitter sound. “I married a man who buys and sells lives like property. Danger is my address now.”

Daniel stepped closer. “You think this is a marriage? It’s not. It’s an assignment. You’re here because you see things. Because you notice details Adrian can’t. You’re his eyes in a way no one else can be. But it’s not for business. It’s for something darker.”

My throat tightened. “What are you talking about?”

He glanced over my shoulder, then lowered his voice to a near whisper. “He’s not just rich, Ever. He’s connected. And you… you’re part of something called Project Ever.”

The words hit me like cold water. “Project Ever?”

Daniel didn’t answer directly. “Listen to me. There are people watching you. Not just him. Others. If you want to survive, you need to be careful who you trust.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” I said.

His gaze sharpened. “Good. Then don’t start now. Not even with me.”

Footsteps crunched on the gravel near the garden entrance. Adrian’s voice smooth, composed, and far too close cut through the night.

“Ever?”

Daniel was gone before I could answer.