Under His Jurisdiction

CHAPTER FOUR

Nyx

By midday, I start convincing myself I imagined it all.

The looks.

The tension.

The way Alexander seems to know when I’m about to enter a room.

It’s easier to believe that than to accept the alternative—that a man like him is paying attention to someone like me.

I sit in the living room pretending to read, the book untouched in my hands. The house has filled with quiet movement. Staff. Family. People drifting in and out with holiday errands and murmured conversations.

Normal.

Safe.

And yet, my body stays alert.

I feel it before I see him.

Alexander enters without announcement, coat already off, presence settling into the room like gravity. Conversations soften without anyone consciously meaning to. People make space for him instinctively.

Power doesn’t demand attention.

It receives it.

He doesn’t look at me.

Which somehow makes me more aware of him.

“Nyx,” my friend says, dropping onto the couch beside me. “Come with me to the mall later? I need last-minute gifts.”

“Sure,” I say, grateful for an excuse to leave the house.

Her eyes flick past me. Then back. Curious.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been… tense since last night.”

I stiffen. “I’m just tired.”

She hums, unconvinced. “Funny. Dad said the same thing about you.”

My stomach flips. “He did?”

She nods. “This morning. He asked if you were settling in okay. Said you didn’t sleep.”

I swallow. “That’s… observant of him.”

She laughs. “That’s Dad. He notices everything.”

I force a smile, unease curling in my chest.

That’s not comforting.

Later, as I grab my coat, I feel it again—that subtle awareness, like pressure against my skin. I look up.

Alexander stands near the doorway, phone in hand. His gaze lifts briefly, meets mine, then moves away.

But I catch it.

Not curiosity.

Assessment.

“Going out?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer. Too quickly.

“With who?”

The question is casual. The implication is not.

“With your daughter.”

A pause.

“Be back before dark,” he says.

It shouldn’t feel like a command.

It does.

My friend doesn’t seem to notice anything strange, already chatting about stores and sales as we step outside. The cold air clears my head a little, but not enough.

“Can I ask you something?” I say as we walk.

“Sure.”

“Is your dad always so… involved?”

She laughs again. “He’s protective. Comes with the territory. Powerful men tend to think they’re responsible for everything.”

I think of the way he watches. The way he speaks like conclusions instead of questions.

“What about me?” I ask quietly. “Does he… talk about me?”

She glances at me, surprised. “Not much. Just said you seem like someone who doesn’t ask for help even when she needs it.”

My steps slow.

“That’s a strange thing to say about someone he just met.”

She shrugs. “Dad reads people. It’s what makes him good at what he does.”

Or dangerous, I think.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of crowds and noise, but even away from the house, I feel tethered to it. To him. Like distance doesn’t mean absence.

When we return, dusk has settled.

Alexander’s car is already in the driveway.

Inside, he’s in his study, door partially open. Light spills out, warm and low. I pass by quietly, not wanting to interrupt.

“Nyx,” he says.

I stop.

“Yes?”

“You’re late,” he adds calmly.

I check my phone. “It’s not dark yet.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. Not a smile.

“Good,” he says. “Then my concern was unnecessary.”

Concern.

I nod, unsure what to say.

As I turn to leave, his voice stops me again.

“You don’t like being noticed,” he says.

“No,” I admit.

“Yet you react strongly when you are.”

I face him. “What do you want from me?”

He studies me for a long moment. Too long.

“For now?” he says quietly. “Nothing.”

That should reassure me.

It doesn’t.

Because the way he looks at me suggests he’s simply waiting for the moment when nothing is no longer an option.