EYES THAT FOLLOWED
710 Words
It had been three days since the wine incident.
Three long, crawling days — and still, Caroline couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
Not in a creepy, shadow-in-the-dark kind of way.
No.
This was different.
It was in the way silence suddenly stretched longer when she entered a room. How people at her job — even the rude-ass manager that used to yell — now stared at her with a new kind of... respect. Or maybe fear.
She didn’t know which scared her more.
That night had changed something. She knew it the second she walked home with trembling legs, her shoes soaked from the rain. She replayed every second in her head: the wine spill, the silence, his question, the way he drank that last glass with no expression — like he could’ve killed her... but didn’t.
"Next time, spill it on my enemies."
Those words haunted her.
What the hell did that even mean?
She hadn’t seen him since. No sign of the cold-eyed devil in a black suit. No calls, no threats, no demands. But deep down, a voice whispered that it wasn’t over.
Not even close.
---
Caroline was wiping down a dusty counter in the backroom of the same shitty bar she worked part-time when it happened.
“Caroline,” a voice called, hesitant and unsure. It was Rita, one of the newer girls.
She turned. “Yeah?”
“There’s... a guy out front. Asking for you.”
Caroline’s stomach dipped.
Her heart did this stupid jump and crash thing, like it knew something her brain hadn’t caught up to yet.
“A guy?” she echoed. “What kind of guy?”
Rita shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Tall. Expensive-looking. Like... scary fine.”
Caroline cursed softly under her breath and wiped her hands on her apron. “What did he say?”
“He just said to tell you that... ‘The boss wants to see you.’” Rita stared at her like that meant something huge.
And it did.
Her heart was now thudding in her throat. She walked — slowly, stiffly — to the front of the bar.
There, standing by the doorway like he owned the air itself, was a man she didn’t know.
But it didn’t matter.
One look at the dark suit, the watch on his wrist, the way his eyes scanned the room without blinking — and she knew. He belonged to him.
He stepped forward the moment he saw her. “Caroline?”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.
“Mr. Reuben wants a word.”
Not a meeting. Not a request. Just a word.
---
The car waiting outside wasn’t just sleek — it was criminally silent, tinted so dark she couldn’t see herself in the reflection. The man opened the door for her.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked.
He raised a brow. “Would you say no?”
She didn’t answer.
She slid in.
---
The drive was quiet. Too quiet.
By the time they stopped, she knew she wasn’t being taken to any club or office.
This was a private estate.
Massive iron gates. White stone steps. Security like shadows.
The driver opened the door.
“Inside. He’s waiting.”
---
Caroline stepped through the front doors and into a world of marble and menace.
Then she saw him.
Reuben.
Standing by the window, black-on-black suit, hands in his pockets. His grey eyes were fixed on the outside world — or maybe just lost in his own head.
He didn’t turn when he spoke.
“You’ve been on my mind.”
She stiffened.
He finally turned, gaze dropping to her lips, then back to her eyes.
“You walk into my life, insult me in front of everyone, spill wine on my shirt…” He stepped closer. “And then disappear like nothing happened.”
Caroline crossed her arms. “I figured you’d prefer it that way.”
“I don’t.” His voice dropped an octave. “I like things I can see. Things I can control.”
She swallowed hard. “Well, I’m not a thing.”
He smiled.
God. That smile.
Wicked. Beautiful. Like it belonged in sin.
“Not yet.”
- Writer
