BOUND BY HIS SHADOW

His Watchful Eye

The office felt brighter the next morning, but Grace couldn’t shake the tightness in her chest. She’d barely slept. Every creak of her apartment walls, every passing car outside, had sent her pulse skittering.

She had told herself she wouldn’t look out the window first thing when she woke up. But of course she had—and there it was. The black sedan. Still there.

Her hands had trembled all through breakfast.

Now, at her desk, she forced herself into the rhythm of typing emails, reviewing research, cross-checking figures Naomi handed down with surgical precision. She wanted to believe work would be her sanctuary. If she kept her head down, if she buried herself in numbers and deadlines, maybe she could pretend last night had been a dream.

But it wasn’t. Because Ethan Cross never let anything go.

“Grace.” Naomi’s voice snapped her attention up. Her supervisor stood with arms folded, a faint frown denting her forehead. “There’s someone waiting for you in the lobby.”

Grace blinked. “Someone?”

Naomi’s lips pressed thin. “Tall. Dark suit. Very… insistent.”

Her stomach dropped. She didn’t need a name. She knew.

And she was right.

The moment she stepped into the lobby, Ethan was there—like an immovable wall in his tailored jacket, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a coffee cup he pressed into hers as though she had no choice but to accept it.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said simply.

Grace’s jaw tightened. “Because I don’t want to live my life glued to your check-ins.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with quiet intensity. “I didn’t ask for your life. I asked if you slept.”

Her throat went dry. She wanted to say yes, perfectly, but the dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed her.

Ethan’s gaze flicked over her face, unreadable. Then he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “There was movement last night. Someone’s watching the building.”

The coffee cup nearly slipped from her hands. “You’re joking.”

His jaw flexed. “I don’t joke, Grace.”

The words were soft, but they locked around her like a chain.

She stepped back, the heat of his nearness suffocating. “I can’t do this. I can’t live with you breathing down my neck every second.”

He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he said, almost gently, “You’d rather face him alone?”

The question sliced through her like ice.

For one second—just one—her bravado faltered. She remembered the sedan, the way her skin prickled under unseen eyes, the crawling dread that had lived in her bones since college.

Ethan didn’t press the advantage. He didn’t need to. The silence stretched, heavy with the truth neither of them wanted to say out loud.

Finally, she shoved the coffee back into his hand. “I have work.”

She walked away, shoulders stiff, heart hammering. She could feel his gaze following her until the glass doors closed behind her.

The day dragged. Grace’s concentration cracked more than once, her mind splintering between spreadsheets and the constant itch of paranoia. Every time she glanced at the street, she half-expected to see that same sedan waiting.

By five, she was exhausted. She told herself she wouldn’t accept another ride, wouldn’t let Ethan keep smothering her. But when she stepped outside, his car was already there at the curb.

She froze.

He was leaning against the hood, dark hair ruffled by the breeze, his tie loosened like he had all the time in the world. His eyes found hers instantly, sharp, assessing.

“You’re not walking home,” he said, as if the decision was already made.

Grace’s lips parted to argue—but then, from the corner of her vision, she saw it. The black sedan again. Parked half a block away, engine idling.

Her knees weakened. She hated the way fear coiled in her gut, hated even more how her legs moved toward Ethan before she could stop them.

He opened the passenger door for her, his hand brushing her elbow as he guided her inside. The gesture was careful, almost tender—but his voice was iron when he said, “I told you. I’ll keep you safe. Even if you hate me for it.”

She sank into the seat, her chest tight. Because deep down, beneath the anger, beneath the resentment, part of her believed him.

And that terrified her most of all.