Chapter 46: Watching Too Closely

ELIZA’S POV

I didn’t stop walking until I turned the corner.

Only then did I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

My chest felt tight.

Too tight.

His words kept replaying in my head.

You’re not as subtle as you think.

What did that mean?

Did he suspect something?

No.

That didn’t make sense.

If he suspected anything serious, he wouldn’t be calm about it.

He wouldn’t just… warn me.

Unless—

I shook my head quickly.

No.

I was overthinking.

Again.

This was getting ridiculous.

I forced myself to keep moving, heading back toward the stairs, my steps slower now, more controlled.

Everything was still fine.

Nothing had happened.

He ate.

Nothing happened.

Which meant—

My stomach tightened slightly.

Which meant I had missed my chance.

Again.

Frustration simmered quietly beneath my calm exterior.

That had been the closest I’d gotten.

And I’d hesitated.

I’d stopped.

I clenched my jaw slightly.

I didn’t like that.

Didn’t like what it said about me.

I descended the stairs slowly, my mind still running in circles.

Focus.

I needed to focus.

This wasn’t supposed to be difficult.

It wasn’t supposed to be complicated.

It was supposed to be simple.

And yet everything involving Vinton Crost seemed to refuse simplicity.

Of course it did.

Because nothing about him was simple.

His voice.

His calm.

His eyes.

The way he kept watching me like he could see—

“Miss Eliza?”

I blinked.

Miriam stood at the bottom of the stairs, wiping her hands nervously on her apron.

“Yes?”

“Did he eat?” she asked.

I hesitated.

Just briefly.

Then nodded.

“Yes.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Good. He’s been skipping meals lately.”

Something in my chest shifted faintly.

I pushed it aside.

“He ate,” I repeated.

She smiled faintly.

“Thank you, miss.”

I nodded and walked past her toward the kitchen, but her words lingered.

He’s been skipping meals lately.

Why?

Work?

Stress?

Or—

No.

That wasn’t my concern.

It shouldn’t be.

I stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and taking a slow sip.

Cold.

Grounding.

Helpful.

I leaned against the counter, trying to steady my thoughts.

I needed another opportunity.

Another plan.

Something cleaner.

Something more controlled.

Because whatever was happening right now wasn’t working.

Not with him.

Not with—

“Liza!”

Tilly’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up just as she ran into the kitchen, her small footsteps quick and light.

“Yes?”

She stopped in front of me, looking up with bright curiosity.

“Daddy looks angry.”

My stomach tightened.

“What?”

She nodded seriously.

“He passed me in the hallway. He didn’t smile.”

I frowned slightly.

That… wasn’t unusual.

But something about the way she said it made me pause.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” I said gently.

She shook her head.

“No. He looked like when he’s thinking.”

I blinked.

“And that’s different?”

“Yes.”

Children.

They noticed too much.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” I said softly.

She nodded, though she didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Okay.”

She lingered for a second, then added quietly,

“You were with him, right?”

My fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

“Yes.”

“Did you make him angry?”

The question caught me off guard.

“What?”

She shrugged.

“Sometimes people look like that after talking.”

I exhaled softly.

“I don’t think so.”

She nodded again, then ran off, already distracted by something else.

I remained where I was.

Still.

Her words settled heavily in my chest.

Did I make him angry?

I replayed the conversation in my head.

The fork.

The hesitation.

His warning.

His tone.

Maybe.

Maybe I had.

But why would that bother me?

It shouldn’t.

It didn’t matter.

And yet—

I pushed away from the counter.

This was pointless.

I needed to stop thinking about him.

Stop replaying every word.

Stop—

Footsteps approached.

Slow.

Measured.

Familiar.

My breath caught slightly before I could stop it.

I didn’t turn immediately.

But I knew.

Of course I knew.

Vinton stepped into the kitchen.

The air shifted instantly.

It always did when he entered a room.

Quiet.

Controlled.

Heavy.

I turned slowly.

He looked… composed.

As always.

But Tilly had been right.

There was something different in his expression.

Something thoughtful.

Something… sharper.

His gaze landed on me immediately.

Of course it did.

It lingered.

Too long.

Too quiet.

“You left quickly,” he said.

“I had things to do.”

“Of course.”

Silence followed.

Neither of us moved.

The kitchen suddenly felt smaller.

Too quiet.

Too aware.

“You didn’t finish your food,” I said, nodding toward nothing in particular.

His brow lifted faintly.

“You’re still concerned about that?”

“No.”

“You keep bringing it up.”

I exhaled softly.

“You’re difficult to ignore.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Another silence.

Then—

“You hesitated.”

There it was again.

I sighed.

“You’re still on that?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not that important.”

“It is.”

“Why?”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Because you don’t hesitate with anyone else.”

My stomach tightened.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“You’re assuming.”

“I’m observing.”

I shook my head.

“You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

Then he stepped closer.

Just slightly.

But enough.

“You were about to do something,” he said quietly.

“I was feeding you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I swallowed.

“Then what did you mean?”

His voice lowered.

“You changed your mind halfway through.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I looked away.

“I told you already.”

“You lied.”

I exhaled sharply.

“You’re very persistent.”

“So are you.”

Silence again.

Then—

“You’re watching me too closely,” I muttered.

His answer came softly.

“Yes.”

My heart skipped.

“Why?”

His gaze held mine.

Steady.

Dangerous.

“Because I think you’re hiding something.”

My stomach dropped.

For a split second—

Fear flickered.

Sharp.

Unexpected.

I forced my expression to remain calm.

“You’re imagining things.”

“Maybe.”

But he didn’t sound convinced.

And the way he was looking at me—

Too calm.

Too thoughtful.

Too observant—

Made one thing painfully clear.

Vinton Crost was starting to pay attention.

And that was the last thing I needed.