Eyes That Find Me
Emma's Pov
What was I even thinking?
Why did I ask him if he had feelings for me? And why—why did it sting when he said no?
For the past three days, that moment has been looping in my mind like a film stuck on rewind. His voice. His expression. The way he looked at me—calm, almost indifferent. I told myself it didn't matter. That I didn't feel that way about him. That I couldn't.
But then why did I feel... disappointed?
I don't even know if I like him. Maybe I never did. Maybe I was just curious—or maybe I wanted to matter to someone like him. Someone so distant and untouchable.
Aubrey Ardel. The name carries weight. One of the most celebrated young violinists in the city. His father, Arthur Ardel, is a titan in both business and music. He built a legacy, yet refuses to let Aubrey stand on it. He wants his son to rise on his own, without people whispering that it was all bought, not earned.
Their family is... complicated. On the surface, they look perfect—elegant, poised, untouchable. But then there's Alex Ardel. Aubrey's older brother. Dead by suicide. No one ever says why. Maybe no one truly knows.
To me, it just seemed like another tragic story from a rich, broken family. But somehow, that thought feels unfair now. There's something about Aubrey—something deeper, something buried.
And maybe that's what's bothering me. I don't know how I feel. I don't know if I wanted his affection or just his attention.
All I know is... his "no" felt heavier than I expected.
My head was pounding from all the thinking. Thoughts collided like waves crashing against each other, never settling. I was confused—more than I wanted to admit—but this wasn't the time to be distracted. I had come here with a purpose, a mission. I needed to stay focused.
And yet, for the past few days, I found myself doing the same thing: watching the café door.
Waiting.
Waiting for the bell to chime, for the soft whoosh of the door opening, and for him to walk in.
Emerald eyes that always seemed to be searching. Hair—black, wavy, and impossibly soft-looking—that made me want to reach out and ruffle it just to see how he'd react. The way his voice lit up when he talked about art, like each word painted a story on an invisible canvas. His smile, rare but warm. The way his gaze found mine across the room and—
"Earth to Emma!"
I jolted as June waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me back into reality.
Emmett stood behind her, arms crossed, giving me that look—half concern, half are you seriously zoning out again?
"God, you've been staring at nothing for like five minutes," June muttered. "Do you even hear us when we talk anymore?"
"I—sorry," I mumbled, pressing my fingers to my temples. "Headache. Just zoning out, I guess."
June raised a brow. "Zoning out or daydreaming about a certain green-eyed violinist?"
My eyes snapped to hers. "June!"
"What? You've been acting weird since that conversation," she said, smirking. "And you think we didn't notice how your head turns every time the doorbell rings?"
I went quiet. My silence said more than I wanted it to.
Emmett cleared his throat, stepping forward with a more serious tone. "We weren't trying to pry. We just need your call on these."
He held out a folder—one I recognized immediately. The papers inside weren't just ordinary files. They were confidential. Sensitive. Dangerous in the wrong hands.
Right. The mission.
I shook off the lingering warmth in my chest and took the folder. "Yeah. Of course. Let me see."
But as I opened it, my eyes drifted again. I wasn't sure what scared me more—how often I thought of him... or the possibility that he might already be slipping away.
"I still need you to follow him, June," I said, keeping my voice low.
June leaned against the edge of the counter, arms crossed, her eyes flicking to the front of the café as if someone might be listening. "You're sure about that? He's been quiet. No suspicious moves, no strange contacts. Nothing."
"I know," I sighed, thumbing through the folder in front of me. "But something about him feels... off. I can't explain it. Just keep watching. We're missing something."
June didn't respond right away. Her gaze searched my face, reading into everything I wasn't saying. "You've barely slept, Em. Maybe—just maybe—you're seeing ghosts where there are none."
"Or maybe I'm the only one looking hard enough," I said, sharper than I intended. I instantly regretted it.
She nodded slowly, pushing off the counter. "Alright. I'll keep at it. Just don't burn yourself out."
I watched her walk away and disappear through the back door, the bell above it giving a muted jingle. She was rarely seen around the café these days—not because she was hiding, but because she'd been tailing a man we suspected had links to our case. The problem was, we weren't sure if he was a dead end... or the key to everything.
And honestly? I hated this part. The waiting. The uncertainty. The watching and doubting everyone.
Coming to New York from Saudi Arabia wasn't the culture shock people thought it would be. Not really. It wasn't the skyscrapers, the chaos, or the noise.
It was the distance.
The overwhelming sense of not belonging.
It was missing the way sunlight filtered through my bedroom curtains back home. Missing my father's steady voice in the morning, my little brother's clumsy footsteps racing down the hall, my sister's endless questions and the sound of her laughter echoing through the house.
Being this far from home made my chest tight in ways I couldn't explain. And yet, I had to be here. For the mission. For the truth.
Even if it meant losing pieces of myself along the way.
June slipped out through the back door of the café, the soft jingle of the bell fading behind her.
Emmett didn't follow.
He stayed rooted to the floor across from me, arms crossed over his chest, eyes watching me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. The air inside felt still, muted, like the city noise had dulled just for this moment.
"You know," he said, voice calm but pointed, "it's not good to get entangled with someone we don't really know."
I didn't look up right away. I kept my eyes on the stack of papers in front of me, flipping a page I wasn't really reading. "Isn't everyone a stranger unless you take the time to know them?" I muttered.
Emmett let out a dry laugh, but it lacked humor. "Sure. But not when we're only here for a few months, and not when our mission depends on staying detached."
I froze mid-sentence and set the pen down with a soft clack. My fingers curled slightly around the edge of the table.
"What exactly are you trying to imply?" I asked, glancing up at him, a flicker of irritation in my voice.
He didn't budge. His eyes were sharp, calm—like he was walking a tightrope between concern and confrontation.
"I'm saying be careful," he replied. "That's all."
"No," I said, folding my arms. "That's not all. You think I'm distracted. Say it."
He exhaled through his nose, shifting his stance slightly. "I think you're too smart to be reckless, but I also know how loneliness feels in a place that doesn't feel like home. And I see the way your eyes follow him when the door opens."
I flinched, barely.
Emmett stepped a little closer, voice low and level. "We're not here to settle down, Em. We're here to do a job. Don't let someone else's charm make you forget that."
I stared at him for a beat too long before tearing my gaze away, feeling something unspoken sink like a stone in my chest.
"I haven't forgotten," I said, quieter this time.
"Good," he murmured, before backing off and leaving me to the silence of the café, the smell of roasted coffee beans, and the weight of thoughts I couldn't shake.