Chapter 4 Watchful eyes

Chapter Four

The next morning felt surreal. Waking up knowing Nico was still in my apartment, and worse, that he had no plans to leave was unsettling. I wasn't used to sharing my space with anyone, especially someone as overbearing as him.

The faint aroma of coffee wafted through the air, and I reluctantly climbed out of bed, padding into the kitchen. Nico stood there, pouring coffee into two mugs, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He looked perfectly at home, which only irritated me more.

"Morning," he said without looking up, his voice calm and controlled as always.

"Morning," I replied, my tone clipped. I pulled out a chair and sat at the small dining table, watching him with wary eyes.

"Cream? Sugar?" he asked, holding up the tiny ceramic containers I rarely used.

"Just black," I muttered.

He carried both mugs over and placed one in front of me before sitting across from me. His movements were smooth, precise, like everything he did was part of some unspoken plan.

"Why are you still here, Nico?" I asked, cutting straight to the point.

He raised an eyebrow, sipping his coffee. "I thought we talked about this."

"No," I said, setting my mug down with a soft thud. "You talked. I didn't agree to anything."

"You didn't stop me, either," he pointed out, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

I glared at him, frustration bubbling in my chest. "That's not the same thing."

Nico leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "Look, Ava, I know this isn't what you signed up for, but the situation is what it is. We're married, and that makes you a part of my world, whether you like it or not."

"That's the problem," I shot back. "I don't know what your world is, Nico. All I know is that it's dangerous, and now I'm caught in the middle of it."

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. For a moment, I thought he might actually open up, but instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek black envelope.

"What's this?" I asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Your first lesson," he said, sliding it across the table.

I hesitated before picking it up and pulling out a stack of photos. My breath hitched as I flipped through them.

The first photo was of me at the grocery store, pushing a cart and looking distracted. The next was of me walking to the post office, and another showed me sitting in a café.

Someone had been following me.

"Who took these?" I demanded, my voice trembling.

"Does it matter?" Nico asked, his tone too calm for my liking.

"Yes, it matters!" I snapped, shoving the photos back into the envelope. "I have a right to know who's stalking me."

"They're not stalking you," he said, his voice sharp. "They're watching you. And there's a difference."

I stared at him, anger and fear swirling in my chest. "What's the difference, Nico?"

He leaned forward, his expression deadly serious. "The difference is that they're not interested in you. They're interested in me, and they're using you to get to me."

The weight of his words settled over me like a heavy blanket. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I set the envelope back on the table. "What do they want?"

"Leverage," he said simply. "To control me, hurt me, or destroy me. And if they can't do that directly, they'll go after the people I care about."

"But you don't even care about me," I said, my voice shaking.

Nico's eyes softened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. "That's where you're wrong, Ava."

The rest of the day passed fast. Nico stayed in the apartment, making calls and working on his laptop while I tried to go about my usual routine. But no matter what I did, cleaning, sending out resumes, scrolling through social media, I couldn't shake the images in that envelope.

Someone had been following me, photographing me, tracking my every move. And Nico was right: they weren't after me. They were after him.

By late afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore. The walls of my apartment felt like they were closing in, suffocating me with the weight of everything I didn't understand. I needed air, space, something to clear my head.

"I'm going out," I announced, grabbing my coat.

Nico looked up from his laptop, his expression immediately guarded. "Where?"

"I don't know," I said, waving a hand. "For a walk. Just to get out of here."

His gaze narrowed. "Not alone."

I stopped, turning to face him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, standing and crossing his arms. "You're not going out alone."

I laughed, though there was no humor in it. "I'm not a child, Nico. I don't need a babysitter."

"No, but you do need protection," he said, his voice low and firm.

"I'll be fine," I insisted, pulling on my coat. "I'll stay in public places, keep my phone on, whatever you want. Just let me breathe, okay?"

He didn't look convinced, but after a long pause, he sighed and nodded. "Fine. But keep your phone on, and don't go far."

"Got it, Dad," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I stepped out the door.

The cold air stung my cheeks as I wandered through the streets, my breath forming small clouds in front of me. For a while, the simple act of walking helped clear my mind. But the farther I went, the more the unease crept back in.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Every time I glanced over my shoulder, the streets seemed empty. But the sensation of eyes on me persisted, sending shivers down my spine.

By the time I returned to the apartment, my heart was racing, and I was desperate to lock the door behind me.

Nico was waiting, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. "You're late."

"I didn't know I had a curfew," I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady.

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Something happened. What was it?"

I hesitated, debating whether to tell him about the feeling I couldn't shake. But his piercing gaze left no room for lies.

"I felt... watched," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nico's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "Did you see anyone?"

"No," I said quickly. "But it was just a feeling. Maybe I'm being paranoid."

"Or maybe you're not," he muttered, pulling out his phone.

I watched as he stepped into the kitchen, speaking in low, urgent tones to whoever was on the other end. When he returned, his expression was grim.

"You're not leaving alone again," he said firmly.

"Nico-"

"I mean it, Ava," he interrupted, his voice sharp. "If the Russos are watching you, we can't take any chances."

I sank onto the couch, my hands trembling. "What do they want from me?"

"Nothing," he said simply. "They want me. But they'll use you to get to me."