Under His Jurisdiction

CHAPTER THREE

Nyx

I don’t sleep.

Not really.

I drift in and out of something shallow, my mind replaying the way Alexander looked up at the window like he already knew I was there. Like my presence wasn’t a discovery, but a confirmation.

By morning, my body feels tight with restless energy.

I shower longer than necessary, letting the heat fog the mirror, trying to scrub off the awareness clinging to me. It doesn’t work. I still feel watched—even alone.

Downstairs, the house is quiet.

Too quiet.

I pad into the kitchen in socks and an oversized sweater, intent on coffee and distance. Alexander is already there.

Of course he is.

He stands at the counter, reading something on his tablet, tie perfectly knotted, suit immaculate. He looks like a man prepared for battle, not breakfast.

“Morning,” he says without looking at me.

The sound of his voice sends an unexpected shiver down my spine.

“Morning,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the coffee machine.

We exist in the same space without touching it. A strange, charged silence stretches between us. He doesn’t crowd me. Doesn’t acknowledge me beyond that single word.

And somehow, that restraint feels deliberate.

I pour my coffee. My hand trembles slightly. I hate that he notices.

“You didn’t sleep well,” he says.

I freeze. “What?”

He finally looks at me then, eyes sharp but unreadable. “Your footsteps were restless.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “This is your house. It makes noise.”

“Yes,” he agrees calmly. “But you were pacing.”

I lift my chin. “Do you always analyze your guests?”

“Only when they’re uncomfortable.”

That should annoy me. Instead, it unsettles me how easily he reads me.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“I’m sure you believe that,” he replies.

I turn toward him. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Speaking like you know me.”

A pause.

“Observation doesn’t require intimacy,” he says. “Only attention.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

I take my coffee and move toward the door, needing space. As I pass him, he steps aside without being asked. Controlled. Polite.

But his presence fills the room long after I leave it.

In the hallway, my heart beats faster than it should.

This isn’t attraction, I tell myself.

It’s discomfort.

It’s proximity.

It’s me projecting.

But I’ve never had someone see me this clearly without touching me at all.

And that feels far more dangerous.