If I Could Hate You

Chapter 16: Eyes on Her

I stood by the window of my office, the late afternoon sun spilling across Manhattan’s skyline, though I barely saw it. My thoughts were too clouded, weighed down by the image of Sophia’s face when she had frozen in fear, the way her body had folded into mine without hesitation, the way I had felt like the only anchor keeping her from drowning. It had been days since then, but the memory replayed relentlessly, sharper than the skyscrapers before me.

I could not let it happen again.

“Reynolds,” I said quietly, my voice cutting through the silence of the room.

My head of security stepped forward. Reynolds was a man built for shadows, tall with close cropped hair and an expression that rarely changed. His loyalty had been proven countless times.

“Yes, sir?”

“I want eyes on Sophia Bennett. At all times. Wherever she goes, whoever she meets, I want to know. She has gotten too close to things she does not even understand, and I am not willing to take another chance.”

Reynolds hesitated. A flicker of unease crossed his face before he asked carefully, “Do you want me to inform her, sir? To let her know we are watching her back?”

“No.” The word came out colder than I had intended. I turned from the window and met his gaze. “If she knows, she will refuse. She is… stubborn. The kind of woman who would rather walk through fire than admit she needs help. She would fight me every step of the way.”

I almost smirked at the thought because it was true. Sophia had that fire in her eyes, the sort that made her dangerous. It was infuriating and intoxicating all at once.

Reynolds gave a curt nod. “Understood. I will assign one of my best men. Discreet.”

“Good. Do not let her realize she is being followed, though I imagine it will not take long before she does. She is sharp, sharper than most.”

“Yes, sir.”

When he left, I sat at my desk and tried to steady my breathing. I had crossed another line, one of many lately. I was supposed to keep my distance, yet every action I took drew me closer to her. The control I prided myself on was slipping, thread by thread, and I hated how much I did not care.

My phone buzzed. Alya.

Her name on the screen pulled me back to reality. My fiancée. The woman I was supposed to marry. The perfect image, the daughter of another old money family, the flawless match for the FitzGerald heir. I pressed the answer button and leaned back in my chair, forcing my voice into something steady.

“Michael?” Her voice came through soft and melodic, rehearsed like every note of her existence. “I heard what happened. Are you alright? Please tell me you are safe.”

“I am fine,” I replied quickly. “It was nothing I could not handle.”

“Nothing you could not handle?” Her tone tightened, laced with worry. “Michael, I read about the scene, about the blood, the chaos. What if something had happened to you?”

Her concern was real enough on the surface, though I wondered how much of it was about me and how much was about the possibility of losing her golden ticket into the FitzGerald empire.

“You do not need to worry,” I said.

“Maybe I should come to the city,” she offered suddenly. “Stay with you for a while. I would feel better being near you.”

“No.” The answer shot out before I could soften it.

There was silence for a beat. Then, with quiet confusion, she asked, “Why not?”

Because I cannot have you near me when the only face I see is Sophia’s. Because the thought of Sophia and you in the same room makes my chest twist with guilt I cannot carry. Because your presence would be one more reminder of the cage I built for myself.

But none of those truths could leave my mouth.

“It is not safe,” I said instead, leaning forward, elbows braced on the desk. “Bringing you here would only put you in danger. I will not take that risk.”

“I see,” she murmured. “And what about the woman in the pictures?”

My grip tightened around the phone.

“She is just a worker of mine,” I replied too fast, too sharp.

“Just a worker?” Alya repeated softly. “The photographs did not look like that. The way she was in your arms, the way you held her… Michael, it did not seem professional.”

“She was in shock,” I said firmly, cutting her words like a blade. “She had just seen the aftermath of something bloody, something traumatic. Do not twist it into something it was not.”

I hated the defensive edge in my voice. I hated that I was lying to cover feelings I could not admit even to myself.

There was a pause. Then she said, “Alright. If you say so.”

But her doubt lingered in the air between us, heavy and obvious.

“I have to go,” I said before she could dig deeper. “There are matters I need to handle. I will call you later.”

“You said that last time,” she replied quietly, with a faint trace of accusation. “The last time you actually called me was weeks ago.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I will call.”

She was silent for a moment, then added almost absently, “I love you.”

The words should have carried weight, should have stirred something inside me. Instead they floated across the line shallow, practiced, empty. She loved the name Fitzgerald more than the man who bore it. And I… I could not even echo the lie back to her.

“Stay safe,” I said, my tone clipped.

I ended the call before her silence could settle in.

My phone slipped from my hand onto the desk as I leaned back and closed my eyes. The truth gnawed at me with merciless persistence. Every part of me had been trained for control, for loyalty, for duty. Yet the only image filling my mind was not Alya, not the empire I was meant to inherit, but Sophia.

The way her voice cracked when she was vulnerable. The way her hands trembled but still pushed forward with courage. The way her presence burned in my chest like something dangerous and inevitable.

She was not mine. She could never be mine. She was chaos, a storm that threatened to undo everything I was supposed to be. And yet she was also the only thing that felt real.

I stared at the Manhattan skyline once more. The city stretched endlessly, a jungle of glass and steel, but all I could think of was one woman.

And that terrified me more than anything else.