Blind to Everyone But Her

Chapter 6 – The First Jealousy

The afternoon sun cast golden streaks across the estate as Leah carried a basket of freshly picked olives back toward the house. Her hands were steady, but her mind wandered to the earlier hours, to the quiet confessions and fleeting intimacy in the study. She hadn’t expected him to let anyone in, and yet, the thought of Eli’s attention lingering in her mind both thrilled and unnerved her.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the low hum of the car pulling into the driveway.

Eli’s cane tapped behind her, slow and deliberate. “Leah.”

She turned quickly, startled. “Yes?”

“There is someone here to see me,” he said, calm but measured. “Stay where you are.”

Leah’s stomach knotted. She knew his rules, his control, but something in the tone made her pulse quicken. She nodded, keeping her distance as a tall woman stepped gracefully out of the car. The scent of perfume floated toward them, floral and sharp.

Leah felt a flash of something unfamiliar—unease, perhaps? She reminded herself: she had no right to judge anyone. She was just the assistant.

Eli’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Do not speak unless spoken to.”

The woman’s voice was smooth, practiced. “Eli, it’s been a while.” She stepped closer, reaching for his arm in a casual, almost intimate gesture.

Leah’s chest tightened. Something inside her flared, a warning she didn’t quite understand. Her fingers curled around the basket, knuckles white.

Eli’s head tilted slightly—just enough for Leah to know he sensed the interaction fully. “Do not touch me,” he said, voice calm but dangerously firm.

The woman froze. “I—just greeting you,” she said, retreating a step.

Eli didn’t respond immediately. He stepped forward, and even without sight, Leah could sense the shift in his energy—tighter, sharper, heavier. Every movement he made seemed to pull the air toward him, claiming it, owning it.

Leah felt it, too. Her pulse raced. She wanted to step closer to him, to be a part of his circle of control, and yet she wanted to hide.

The woman’s lips pressed together, tension flashing across her features. “I’ll come back later,” she said and left, her heels clicking away like a warning shot.

Eli’s voice broke the silence. “You understand, Leah?”

Leah swallowed. “I… I do.”

“You are not to leave my side,” he said softly, almost intimate. “Not for anyone. Not for anything. Understand?”

Her chest tightened further. The possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable, yet it wasn’t cruel—it was a claim, a boundary, a warning.

“I understand,” she said again, her voice steadier this time.

Eli exhaled, a low, almost imperceptible sound. “Good. Because once I claim something… I do not let it go.”

Leah’s fingers tightened around the basket. The warning was clear. The stakes of being near him were higher than she realized. And yet… she felt an undeniable pull toward him, toward the danger he embodied, toward the man who could see everything—even without sight.

The sun dipped lower behind the olive trees, casting long shadows across the estate. Leah watched Eli walk ahead, cane tapping, and for the first time, she wondered—not if she could survive this place—but if she wanted to.

Because some part of her knew that leaving wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.