CHAPTER TWO — HIS EYES FOLLOWED HER
1333 Words
Adella didn’t sleep that night.
She tried she really did but every time she closed her eyes, the alley replayed in her mind. The shadows. The violence. The calm danger in his movements. And most of all… the way he looked at her, as if he had known her far longer than a single fleeting moment.
The sunrise filtered into her loft in soft gold lines, warming her floorboards and highlighting the scattered sketches she’d left behind. Birds chirped on her balcony railing. Old Lucentha slowly woke, the sounds of the city drifting up the hill footsteps, voices, the chime of the morning bells.
But none of it touched her.
Her thoughts were still with him.
“Adella,” she whispered, mimicking the way he said her name slow, deep, like he was tasting it. “Who are you?”
Her chest tightened in a way she didn’t want to admit.
This was dangerous. He was dangerous. And she was letting her mind wander where it shouldn’t.
She ran her fingers through her hair, exhaling shakily. She needed to focus. She had work to finish. Clients waiting. Deadlines approaching. Life didn’t stop because she’d done something reckless.
She set her sketchbook on the table, flipping it open.
And froze.
Her sketches the ones she’d drawn yesterday felt different now. The lines too soft, the shading too gentle. Nothing in the book matched the violent, electric feeling that now lived under her skin.
Then she turned the page.
Her heart stopped.
It was him.
She had drawn him.
In charcoal, in darkness, in detail she didn’t remember creating his jawline, the shadow under his lip, the dangerous slant of his eyes. It was unfinished, just a rough outline, yet unmistakable.
Her hand trembled as she touched the page.
“When did I…?”
She didn’t recall drawing this. That frightened her more than anything. That she had carried his image inside her long enough for her fingers to sketch him without thought.
A heavy knock suddenly hit her door.
Adella jumped.
Her breath caught, fear tightening her spine. She wasn’t expecting anyone. And knocks like that firm, deliberate never meant anything good.
She swallowed and approached the door slowly.
“Who is it?”
“Delivery,” a man’s voice answered.
She opened it cautiously.
A young man in a courier jacket handed her a small, neatly wrapped parcel. No return address. Just her name written in elegant handwriting across the top.
Her pulse sharpened.
“Who sent this?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Guy said it was from a friend of yours.”
A friend? She didn’t have friends in Lucentha. Not any she trusted, anyway.
She tipped the courier, closed the door, and stared at the box for a long moment before finally opening it.
Inside was a single item:
A black fountain pen. Sleek. Expensive. Heavy in her palm. The kind used by collectors. And underneath it, a small card with a handwritten note:
Ink is safer than blood. K.
Her breath hitched.
K.
It wasn’t his full name, but it was enough. Enough to know it came from him. Enough to know he had found her. Enough to confirm what she feared last night in the alley:
He knew exactly who she was.
And he wasn’t staying away.
Her fingers tightened around the note.
“What are you doing?” she whispered to herself. “Why me? Why now?”
There were no answers. Just the quiet hum of morning and the pen sitting in her palm like a whisper of his touch.
She set the pen down carefully, trying to ignore the fluttering heat in her stomach. She should be scared. She was scared but she wasn’t only scared.
She was curious.
She hated that.
Across the city, in the Aurelia Quarter, Kian Rafe Valerio stood near the floor to ceiling windows of his penthouse, watching the sun rise over Lucentha’s shimmering coastline. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing the strong lines of his chest, a faint bruise forming on his jaw from the alley fight.
He barely felt it.
His mind was somewhere else.
More precisely on someone else.
Adella Moretti.
Her name slid through his mind like smoke. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment, picturing her as she had looked last night wide eyed, trembling, stubbornly brave in a situation she should have run from.
He admired that recklessness more than he should.
It wasn’t often that anyone surprised him. It wasn’t often he felt anything at all beyond control, calculation, necessity.
But she… she had sparked something he couldn’t ignore.
He opened his eyes, jaw clenching.
He shouldn’t have given her the pen. It wasn’t part of the plan. It wasn’t necessary. It was impulsive something he wasn’t known for.
But when she stood in that alley with her sketchbook pressed to her chest like a shield, something about the image struck him so deeply he couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t shake it.
He had been watching her for weeks. Following her patterns, her walks, her routines initially for the job he’d taken. A job he regretted more every day. He hadn’t meant to get close. He hadn’t meant to be seen.
But last night changed everything.
He touched the small device clipped to his belt a receiver tuned to the encrypted channels his team used.
“Report,” he said curtly.
A crackle. Then a voice. “No sightings of Cassian yet. But he’s back in Lucentha. That part is confirmed.”
Kian’s muscles tightened.
“And Adella?” he asked, voice low.
Another pause. “Nothing unusual. She’s at her loft. Looks like she got your package.”
He turned away from the window, unable to stop the faint pull in his chest.
“Good. Keep clear unless I say otherwise.”
“Copy.”
The line cut off.
Kian ran a hand over his jaw. He shouldn’t feel satisfaction. He shouldn’t feel anything at all toward her not when the situation was already spiraling far beyond what he intended.
But he did.
He felt a pull so intense it bordered on dangerous.
“Adella,” he murmured under his breath. “What are you doing to me?”
Later that afternoon, Adella tried to distract herself by working at a small café in Old Lucentha. The place was warm, filled with soft music, steaming cups of coffee, and the quiet murmur of conversation. She chose a seat by the window, her sketchbook open in front of her.
But her mind wasn’t on her work.
It was on him.
She kept replaying the way he moved, the sound of his voice, the terrifying calm in his eyes. No man had ever looked at her like that. No stranger should have looked at her like that.
And yet… she wanted to see him again.
The thought made heat rise beneath her skin.
A shadow passed across her table.
She looked up.
Her breath stopped.
He stood outside the café window.
Kian.
Dressed all in black. Hands in his pockets. Expression unreadable. But his eyes those dark, consuming eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that threw her off balance.
Her fingers froze over her sketchbook.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t smile.
Just watched her, like he could see straight through her.
Her pulse hammered so loudly she felt it in her ears.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
Leaving her breathless, shaken, and undeniably affected.
Adella closed her sketchbook with trembling hands.
This wasn’t normal.
This wasn’t coincidence.
This wasn’t safe.
But even as fear curled through her stomach, another feeling rose with it one she couldn’t deny even if she tried.
Something inside her wanted him to look again.
Wanted him to come back.
Wanted the flames he carried with him.
And in that moment, as the café noise faded around her, Adella realized the truth:
She wasn’t just drawn to him.
She was already burning.
- Writer
