A warning in his eyes

Lydia didn’t sleep that night.

Jake Romano’s presence beside her in class had shaken her more than she’d let anyone see. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that smirk. Heard his voice—low, commanding. Felt his stare, like it could strip her down to her bones.

She barely touched her dinner. Her father noticed, of course, but he didn’t press. He rarely did anymore. Years of being the Romano family’s driver had taught him when to stay quiet.

The next morning, she left early, hoping to slip into class unnoticed.

But he was already there.

Jake sat at her usual desk, one arm draped over the chair like he owned it—and maybe he did. Not the desk, but the school, the city. The power clung to him like smoke, thick and undeniable.

He didn’t move when she approached. Just stared at her with a lazy smile.

“You’re early,” she said carefully.

“I like your spot.”

“It’s not mine,” she replied, placing her bag two seats down. “You can have it.”

He raised a brow. “Running already?”

She didn’t reply.

Jake leaned forward, his voice velvet and menace. “You’re not like the rest of them.”

She stared ahead. “I don’t want to be.”

“I know.” He sounded amused. “That’s why you caught my eye.”

Lydia’s stomach twisted. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Whatever you think this is. I'm not part of your world.”

Jake’s eyes darkened. “But you live in my house, don’t you?”

Her breath caught. The reminder cut deeper than she expected.

“My father works for yours. I don’t,” she said quietly.

He leaned back, but his gaze never left her. “That’s a thin line, Lydia.”

The teacher walked in, and the tension dissolved—but it lingered like perfume. She could feel Jake's eyes on her for the rest of the class. Watching. Measuring. Claiming.

---

During lunch, Lydia slipped outside, away from the elite crowd and their designer gossip.

She found peace under an old oak tree, hidden behind the library. Her fingers flipped through a book she couldn’t focus on.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” a voice said.

She looked up.

Christy Simmons stood there, arms crossed, her blond curls and flawless makeup perfect as always. Her expression? Anything but.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please,” Christy scoffed. “Jake never looks at anyone twice. You show up in your secondhand skirt and suddenly he’s sitting next to you?”

Lydia rose slowly. “That’s not my choice.”

“Exactly,” Christy said sharply. “And here’s a tip—when Jake Romano chooses someone, he doesn’t let go. Even if it ruins them.”

The words hung heavy between them. Then Christy walked off, heels clicking against stone.

Lydia stood frozen.