Unseen Eyes
978 Words
Eva woke to sunlight slipping through the balcony glass, warm and soft against her skin. But her chest felt heavy. Her heart still raced from the kiss that haunted her dreams, and her lips tingled like they remembered too much.
She turned in bed slowly, half-expecting to find a note on the nightstand. A message. A sign.
There was nothing.
Just silence.
And that silence said too much.
She forced herself out of bed and moved through her morning like a ghost. Shower. Hair. Light makeup. She slipped into a soft ivory blouse and a pencil skirt — neutral, composed — like armor for a battle she couldn’t name.
Standing in front of the mirror, she met her own eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You’re ready.”
Ready for work. Ready to see Andre.
Ready to pretend nothing ever happened.
---
Lancaster Industries – Morning
Andre wasn’t in his office.
Eva paused at her desk, eyes drifting to the closed door like she could will it to open. She knew what had happened on that balcony wasn’t in her head. The way his fingers trembled when they brushed her face. The urgency in his kiss. The way his breath caught like he needed her and hated it all at once.
And yet… today, he’d disappeared behind silence.
No message. No call. No look.
As if he could switch himself off and reboot into the man he used to be.
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced down, expecting Leah. Maybe a work notification.
But instead:
Unknown Number:
Nice dress today. Bet your fake husband loves it.
Her heart stopped.
Cold chills rushed down her spine. She looked around the office quickly — no one was watching her, no one out of place.
But her pulse was pounding.
She locked the screen and shoved her phone in her bag.
Who was watching her? And why?
---
Later – Andre’s POV
Andre sat in the boardroom alone, his hand resting on his phone, though he hadn’t looked at it in over an hour.
The kiss. Her scent. The feel of her lips beneath his. It all lived in his mind now like a storm behind a locked door.
He should’ve never touched her.
But he had. And now nothing felt the same.
His world — once silent and cold — now pulsed with a kind of ache he didn’t know how to control. And Eva? She had become the only warmth he couldn’t ignore.
Which was exactly why he had to.
He stood abruptly, grabbed his phone, and headed for the elevator.
And there she was.
Already inside.
Her eyes flicked up, tired but defiant. She didn’t smile. She didn’t greet him. She didn’t need to. Her silence was louder than any word.
He stepped in beside her, the doors sliding shut behind them.
Silence.
Her perfume filled the space. Soft. Familiar. Addictive.
He stole a glance.
She stared ahead, jaw tight.
Then her voice broke through the tension like glass.
“You regret it, don’t you?”
His throat tightened. “Eva—”
“You kissed me,” she whispered, not turning. “Then disappeared. Like it meant nothing.”
“It didn’t mean nothing,” he said quickly, his voice low.
She finally looked at him. “Then why are you running from it?”
Before he could answer, the elevator pinged. The doors opened.
He stepped out first.
Didn’t look back.
Left her standing there.
Alone.
---
That Night – Penthouse
The penthouse was dim when Eva returned.
She didn’t take off her heels right away. She didn’t change. She just stood in the middle of the living room, staring at nothing, the ache in her chest growing heavier with each breath.
She didn’t understand him.
And that was the most dangerous part.
One moment he was fire — warm, consuming, alive.
The next, he was ice. Unreachable.
She moved into the kitchen, needing something — anything — to ground her. She poured a glass of water with shaking hands.
And that’s when she saw it.
An envelope.
Thick. Plain. Her name written across it in bold, black ink.
Her stomach dropped.
She picked it up slowly and peeled it open.
Photos.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
Dozens of them. Printed clearly. Watching her from the shadows of her own life.
Her at the office. At the cafe near Lancaster Tower. Stepping into her car. Entering the penthouse. And one…
Her heart stopped.
One was from the night on the balcony.
Andre’s arms around her. Lips inches from hers. Frozen in time.
She fumbled for the small folded note at the bottom.
> You’re not safe with him. You never were.
If you want the truth about Andre Lancaster, meet me tomorrow.
Alone.
No security. No husband.
Or the next photo goes public.
Eva’s fingers trembled. The envelope slipped from her hands, scattering the photos across the marble counter.
She staggered back a step, gripping the edge of the island to stay upright.
Someone was watching her.
Someone knew.
And they were warning her — or threatening her.
She didn’t know which was worse.
She knelt to gather the photos, stuffing them back into the envelope, and rushed to her bedroom.
Her hands shook as she shoved the envelope beneath her bed.
A knock on the door made her jump.
It was Andre.
She quickly composed herself before answering. “Yes?”
He stood in the hallway, one hand in his pocket. “Everything alright?”
She nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He stared at her a beat too long.
Then nodded. “Sleep well.”
He turned and walked away.
She closed the door, locked it softly behind her, and leaned against it.
For the first time since stepping into his world… she wasn’t sure who to trust.
Not even him.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD