The sky in California looked beautiful today, but She could not concentrate on it.
She was too focused on the sensation of *being watched*.
It had started earlier that morning, when she went to the park to clear her head. She'd sat at her usual bench with her sunglasses on and her notebook opened on her laps. She was sketching half-hearted piano notes she couldn't seem to hear anymore. That was when she felt it—the prickle along her spine, like fingers trailing down her back.
"I've been feeling too much things lately, someone is always staring." She thought.
She turned. No one.
But the second time he turned, she saw him.
A tall man wearing a dark coat and sunglasses, his beard trimmed rocking a Lean and powerful build. He stood by the food truck, didn't even pretend to be doing anything. Just stood there watching her closely.
Her heartbeat had kicked up in panic, but also something else. A jolt of curiosity and amusement.
Then a blink later, he was gone.
No footsteps. No noise. Just… gone.
Now, Mia was back sitting alone in the balcony of Isaiah's penthouse. Erica was out with her influencer friends, Jace was at practice, and Bianca had locked herself in her studio again.
Which was good.
She needed air. And time to process the eyes that had burned into her.
Her fingers brushed her ribs again, over the fresh tattoo.
Verità.
Was this part of it? The truth creeping in?
A buzzing sound from her phone pulled her from her thoughts.
An unknown number appeared on her screen.
She wondered who it might be as she answered the call. "Hello?"
Silence.
"Mia," a voice finally rasped voice spoke, sounding low and masculine.
Her stomach flipped.
"Who is this?" she asked, stepping inside the balcony doors, suddenly aware of her surrounding.
Then the line clicked dead.
"What the fuck?" she whispered, locking the balcony door.
Downstairs, a knock echoed from the front door.
Her breath caught.
No one should be here around this time.
Another knock. Then a voice: "Mia?"
Jace.
She exhaled. Relief, but laced with… bitterness.
She opened the door
He stepped in, wearing a tight black shirt with his basketball bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes dropped to her body immediately—black tank top, no bra, silk shorts. Her hair still damp from the shower.
"Damn," he muttered, not even trying to hide the heat in his gaze.
She folded her arms. "What do you want?"
"I saw you today," he said, dropping his bag. "At the park."
She froze. "You were watching me?"
"I was on my way to the gym," he said quickly. "But then I saw "him"."
Mia's pulse surged. "Who?"
Jace stepped closer, expression hard now. "Some tall guy in black. He was staring at you like he *knew* you. But when I walked up to him, he disappeared before I could say shit."
She felt goosebumps rising on her skin.
So it wasn't in her head.
"You recognize him?" she asked.
He hesitated. "No. But I didn't like the vibe."
Mia walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass. Her hands shook just enough to spill a bit of water down her chest.
Jace watched it, eyes darkening.
"Why do you care?" she asked flatly. "Aren't you supposed to be with Erica tonight?"
He laughed bitterly. "Erica cares more about her fake life than feelings. And you…
He stepped forward.
"You've got fire in you, Mia. You always have. You're not like her."
Her jaw clenched.
"Don't," she warned.
But he was already too close. "Why not? You feel it too, don't you?"
"No, I don't" she denied.
"Yes, you do." His fingers brushed her arm. "You've been driving me fucking insane for years. You think I don't see the way you look at me?"
"I used to," she said coldly, stepping back. "But I've grown up."
His jaw tightened.
"You're scared," he muttered. "That's all. You'd rather stay invisible than risk wanting something real."
"Real?" she snapped. "You're with my stepsister, Jace."
"She's not you."
"And you are a fucking coward," she hissed. "You disgust me right now. Leave." She said pointing at the door.
He stared at her, then laughed bitterly. "One day you'll stop pretending."
And then he left.
Mia stood in silence.
Her phone buzzed again.
1 New Message.
Unknown Number: Nice legs.
Her blood ran cold.
She looked toward the window.
And there he was.
On the rooftop of the opposite building.
The man in black
He stood there watching her.
She didn't scream. She didn't move.
Because something inside her found the whole situation entertaining.
So, she walked to the window.
Staring right back at him.
The man raised a single hand.
And pointed at her.
Then at his chest.
Then vanished again into the night.
---