MARRIED TO MY EX FATHER IN LAW

SHE'S WATCHING ME

I know she's watching me.

Have known for three days now. Catch glimpses of her in doorways, behind bookcases, around corners. Not hiding exactly. Just... observing.

Like I'm some kind of puzzle she's trying to figure out.

It should annoy me. Should make me uncomfortable. But instead, it makes me hyperaware. Of every word I say. Every move I make. Like I'm performing for an audience of one.

Which is ridiculous. I'm fifty years old. The Capo of one of London's most powerful families. I don't perform for anyone.

But here I am, standing in my own goddamn hallway, adjusting my tie because I know Lola might be watching from the library.

Pathetic.

I force myself to walk toward my office without looking. Without checking if she's there.

Make it three steps before I glance sideways.

She's there. Sitting in the window seat with a book, but her eyes are on me. Dark and curious and so f*****g beautiful it makes my chest tight.

Our eyes meet.

For a second, maybe two, maybe an hour, I can't tell—we just stare at each other. And something passes between us. Something electric. Something that makes the air feel charged.

Recognition. Curiosity. Want.

Fuck.

I look away first. Have to. Because if I don't, I'm going to do something stupid like walk over there and ask what she sees when she looks at me. If she likes what she sees. If she thinks about me the way I've started thinking about her.

Which would be a disaster.

"Boss?" Daniel's voice from behind me. "You alright?"

"Fine." I keep walking. Don't look back. "What do you need?"

"Meeting with the captains in ten. You wanted status reports?"

Right. The meeting. The one I called because Vincent said we were getting sloppy. The one I should be focused on instead of wondering why Lola watches me and what it means.

"I'll be there."

I escape into my office. Close the door. Lean against it for a second like a teenager hiding from a crush.

Get it together. She's your wife on paper. Your responsibility. That's all.

Except it doesn't feel like that's all anymore.

The meeting is in the conference room. Eight of my captains, plus Michael, Daniel, Lilo, and Bryan. All the key players in my organization.

I need to focus. Need to be the Capo these men follow. Not some distracted i***t who can't stop thinking about a woman half my age.

"Alright." I take my seat at the head of the table. "Status reports. South London operations first. Bryan?"

Bryan stands, pulls up charts on the screen. "Revenue is down eight percent from last quarter. Mostly due to the shipping delays Daniel mentioned. But we've got new routes in place. Should stabilize by next month."

"What's causing the delays?"

"Customs has been more aggressive. Random checks at the docks. We think someone tipped them off about our shipment schedules."

I look at Michael. "Someone from inside?"

"Possibly. Or could be bad luck. Customs goes through phases where they c***k down." Michael doesn't look concerned. "Either way, the new routes avoid the problem areas."

"Good. Keep me informed of any more issues. No surprises."

We move through the rest of the reports. Territory disputes. Product quality. Client relationships. Everything running smoothly except for the shipping problems.

Which bothers me more than it should.

"One more thing," I say when we're finishing up. "Security around the mansion. Ezra, update?"

Ezra stands. Professional as always. "We've doubled patrols since Ethan's incident. All entry points monitored 24/7. I've personally reviewed every guard's background. No concerns."

"Cameras?"

"Upgraded last week. Full coverage. Blind spots eliminated."

"Good." I look around the table. "Everyone here needs to understand something. My wife is under my protection. That means she's under your protection. If anything happens to her, if anyone gets near her, I will hold you all responsible. Clear?"

"Clear, boss," they chorus.

The meeting ends. Everyone files out except Daniel, who hangs back.

"You okay?" he asks when we're alone.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because you're acting weird. Distracted. You've checked your phone six times during that meeting."

I look down. My phone is in my hand. I don't remember picking it up.

Fuck.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about the Dmitri situation."

"Liar." Daniel sits on the edge of the table. "This is about Lola."

"It's not..."

"Boss. I've known you for fifteen years. I can tell when you're lying."

I shove my phone in my pocket. Walk to the window. Look out at the grounds where I can see security making their rounds.

"She watches me," I hear myself say. "Lola. She's been watching me for days."

"And?"

"And nothing. It's just... I don't know what it means."

"Maybe it means she's curious about you. Trying to figure you out."

"Why?"

"Because you married her? Because you're letting her live in your house? Because you're not like Ethan and she's trying to understand the difference?" Daniel's voice is patient. "Or maybe she's just bored and you're more interesting than the books in the library."

"It's distracting."

"So stop noticing."

"I can't."

The words hang in the air. Admission of something I shouldn't be admitting.

"Ocean." Daniel's voice is careful now. "You know this is complicated, right? She's traumatized. Healing. Getting feelings confused with gratitude..."

"I don't have feelings." The denial comes automatic. "I'm aware of her. That's all. She's my wife. My responsibility. Of course I'm aware."

"Aware is one thing. This is..." Daniel trails off. "Just be careful. For both your sakes."

He leaves. I stay at the window, staring out at nothing.

Be careful. Good advice. Except it's too late for that.

Because somewhere between saving her life and now, Lola stopped being just a responsibility.

And I don't know what to do about it.

That night, I can't sleep.

Unusual for me. I've trained myself to sleep anywhere, anytime. Military habit from my younger days. Close your eyes, rest, wake up ready to fight.

But tonight, my mind won't shut off.

I keep seeing Lola's eyes. The way she looked at me in the hallway. Curious. Maybe something more than curious.

What does she see when she looks at me?

A savior? A captor? A stranger she's stuck with?

Or something else?

I give up on sleep around one AM. Throw on sweats and a t-shirt. Head downstairs.

Maybe whiskey will help. Or work. Or anything that's not lying in bed thinking about a woman I can't have.

I'm halfway down the stairs when I hear it.

Music.

Soft, drifting from the conservatory. Piano music.

I follow the sound.

Lola is sitting at the piano I forgot we even had. Her fingers moving over the keys, pulling out a melody that's sad and beautiful and makes something in my chest ache.

She's wearing pajamas. Hair loose. No makeup. Just... herself.

And she's stunning.

I should leave. Should give her privacy. She probably thinks she's alone.

But I can't make myself move.

She finishes the piece. Her hands still on the keys. Then she senses me there. Turns.

Our eyes meet again.

And this time, I don't look away.

Can't look away.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't think anyone would hear. I can stop..."

"Don't." My voice comes out rough. "Don't stop. It's beautiful."

"I haven't played in years. Since before... before Ethan."

"Why not?"

"He said it was pointless. That I was wasting time. That I wasn't any good anyway." She looks at the keys. "So I stopped."

Rage flares hot and instant. Another thing Ethan took from her. Another piece of her he crushed because he could.

"He was wrong," I say. "You're incredible."

She looks up at me. Something vulnerable in her expression. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

We stare at each other across the conservatory. The space between us feels charged. Dangerous.

I should leave. Should say goodnight and go back upstairs and forget this moment.

But my feet carry me forward instead. Closer. Until I'm standing next to the piano.

"Play something else," I say.

"What?"

"Play something else. Please. I want to hear more."

Her breath catches. For a second, I think she'll refuse. Send me away. Tell me this is too much, too intimate, too close.

Instead, she turns back to the piano.

Starts playing.

And I stand there in the dark conservatory at one in the morning, listening to my wife make music, and I realize something terrifying.

This isn't just awareness. Isn't just responsibility.

This is the beginning of something I can't control.

Something that's going to change everything.

And I don't know if I should fight it or surrender to it.

All I know is when Lola's fingers dance across those keys, when she loses herself in the music, when she's not afraid or broken but just... herself...

I can't look away.

Don't want to look away.

And that's the most dangerous thing of all.