A maid diligently wiped the bloodstains from the floor. The shadows cast by the curtains seemed to elongate and contort, as if they held their own secrets.
Amid the solemn task, the maid's senses pricked with awareness as she detected approaching footsteps. An uneasy shiver traveled down her spine, and she turned her gaze toward the doorway.
There, she saw a woman—a presence unexpected at that hour. The maid's voice quavered as she stammered, "Ma'am... you! At this time?"
The woman, with an air of quiet confidence, offered the maid a sweet smile. Her grace and poise in that moment seemed incongruous with the chaos that had unfolded in this very room not long ago.
"Where is he?" she inquired, her voice carrying an undercurrent of urgency beneath the sweetness.
The maid, caught off guard, hesitated momentarily. She gestured toward the bathroom, the place where the enigmatic Francisco had retreated after the night's tumultuous events.
A knowing smile graced the woman's lips as she received the maid's response. She moved with purpose, crossing the room in the direction of the bathroom.
Left to her own devices, the maid, ever diligent, proceeded to gather Francisco's ruined and bloodstained clothes from the floor. Her movements were swift, and the garments were handled with a mixture of discretion and determination. She carried them out of the room, leaving the chamber too quickly.
**
The serenity of Francisco's bath was abruptly disrupted as the door to the bathroom eased open, revealing a figure shrouded in shadows. Moving with the calculated grace of a predator, she closed in on the man luxuriating in the water.
Just as she extended their hands towards Francisco, poised for their clandestine act, an acute sense of vigilance stirred within him. In the blink of an eye, his eyes sprang open, and his instincts surged to life. He acted with swift precision, capturing her hands in his firm grasp.
"Aww!" The exclamation, part frustration and part surprise, escaped the lips of the thwarted woman.
As their gazes locked in an intense standoff, the intruder's identity was revealed. It was Emily, a woman whose presence in this unexpected encounter was enigmatic, to say the least.
When Francisco's intense gaze fell upon Emily, he was met with an audacious smile and a flirtatious wink.
"Did I interrupt you, babe?" Emily inquired, her voice dripping with innuendo.
Emily, with her striking beauty and an allure that could captivate any soul, had long graced the pages of fashion magazines as a celebrated model. Her ebony eyes, raven-black hair, and alluring figure possessed the kind of allure that could captivate any man. Her beauty was both mesmerizing and provocative, leaving a trail of longing in its wake.
Emily's role was that of the mistress of Francisco, but to the outside world, she was portrayed as his girlfriend.
With a harsh push, Francisco distanced himself from Emily, a frigid detachment veiling his eyes. His voice, cold as the heart of winter, cut through the charged air as he demanded, "Why are you in this place? I didn't call you."
Emily's smile, as enigmatic as the secrets she held, graced her lips as she rose from the edge of the bathtub. Her movements, bathed in sensuality, were deliberate as she pulled down her dress, allowing it to cascade to the floor. The room bore witness to her naked beauty.
Her nude figure stood before Francisco, her allure intensified by the dim, sensuous lighting of the bathroom.
Her alluring bosom, adorned with taut buds that defied the constraints of modesty, caught the ambient light and shimmered with a beguiling glow.
With an air of confidence, she leaned seductively toward Francisco, her voice laced with a subtle undertone of desire.
"I am here to accompany my king," she purred, her words laden with innuendo and an unspoken invitation.
Francisco, immersed in the shadows of his own thoughts, released a heavy sigh and lowered his eyes. He remained silent, a stoic figure in the midst of a seductive dance, his intentions veiled.
Undeterred by his silence, Emily interpreted it as an affirmation. Her fingers, gentle and tantalizing, brushed against his shoulder, leaving a trail of heat and anticipation in their wake.
"Don't you have a show tonight?" Francisco asked.
Leaning down near his ear, Emily's voice was a seductive whisper, tinged with longing and urgency. "I had," she confessed, "But I was unable to resist coming here after learning that my king had returned home."
Her slender fingers, each bearing the mark of her allure, slid from his shoulders to explore the contours of his muscular and irresistibly sexy chest.
He turned his head to meet her gaze. "I don't feel like talking to you right now," he declared, his voice carrying a note of cold detachment.
As Francisco rose from the bath, water cascaded in a sparkling display of droplets, casting shimmering reflections in the dimly lit room.
Emily, her smile infused with a hint of seduction, took a step back to appreciate the vision of his body glistening with droplets of water. Her desire, once restrained, had now become an irresistible force propelling her towards him.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Emily approached Francisco with deliberate intention. She embraced him from behind, pressing her bosom against his damp back. Her actions were a deliberate, sensuous claim, an invitation into the world they inhabited.
She whispered softly, her voice carrying an undercurrent of longing, "Don't push me away, Francis. I will happily stay below your feet if you offer me a small space."
Francisco's expression remained enigmatic, his face a canvas of restraint. Yet he offered no verbal response to her entreaty. Emily, however, was undeterred by his silence.
Emily walked in front of him and knelt down, her raven eyes locked on his blue eyes. She looked at him intently as he slightly bit her lower lip. She spotted his bulge.
She did not care about his stern look and carefully put it in her mouth. She started giving him a deep breath.
“I hope I’ve made everything clear, Mr. Kevin,” Dimitri said firmly.Kevin sat on the sofa, tapping his fingers on the armrest. He had listened to every word. He had warned Francisco before—but the boy hadn’t listened. Kevin had held back, giving him time to come around. To realize the weight of his choices.But it seemed Francisco had taken his warnings lightly.Kevin let out a long breath. “Dimitri,” he said, his voice calm but heavy, “I don’t believe Francisco will do anything that breaks the rules.”Dimitri rolled his eyes at the other end of the line, clearly unimpressed.“But…” Kevin paused, his tone shifting.“If things spiral, I’ll do what I have to.”Dimitri’s eyes narrowed. His voice dropped to a cold, steady tone.“I hope you remember what you just said.”There was silence for a moment. Kevin’s jaw tightened.Without another word, he ended the call.“Alfred!” Kevin’s voice was low and heavy, laced with disappointment.Alfred entered the room at once, sensing the shift in mo
The next morning, Hazel woke wrapped in a blanket. She sat up slowly, staying still for a while, her thoughts drifting back to the night before.She took a deep breath and looked out the glass window. The sun was bright, the sky clear. A beautiful day.She got up and quickly freshened up.As she stepped out, she spotted Francisco near the door, talking to one of his men. She crossed her arms, watching him.“Are you busy?” she asked.Francisco turned at her voice. He gave a brief order to his man, then walked toward the stairs.“Yes,” he said. “I have something important to take care of.”Hazel raised an eyebrow. “I see.”“Do you need anything?” he asked.She shook her head but started walking down the stairs. When she reached him, she stopped right in front of him.“No,” she said. “Just come home quickly. I’m bored.”Francisco smiled. That simple request made his chest feel light. He nodded and was about to turn away when Hazel grabbed his tie and gently tugged him closer.“You’re lea
Hazel suddenly felt Francisco’s hands leave her breasts.Without thinking, she turned to face him.She didn’t know why she did it.Why did it bother her when he stopped?Why did she want more?Her eyes lifted to meet his.Francisco stood there, soaked, breathless, and impossibly handsome.Hazel stared at him, heat rising in her chest.For a moment, it hit her—she could do anything with this man.Yes, this man.The man she once couldn’t stand.Now, she could command him.Bend him.Break him.“Kneel,” she said, voice firm.Francisco blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t respond right away, but he didn’t resist either. After a long second, he obeyed—dropping to his knees in front of her.He looked up.Hazel stared down, water running between them.It felt like she had tamed a dog.Not just any dog—A wild, untamed dog.And now, he was hers.The way he looked at her—submissive, waiting—it was clear... Hazel took control.Water dripped steadily around them, the only sound in the room.She r
Hazel lay on the edge of the bed, naked and breathless. Her chest rose and fell as she stared up at Francisco, who stood in front of her, also gasping. He rolled on a condom, his eyes locked on hers.His body was strong, sculpted—and she couldn’t look away.Francisco leaned in slowly, brushing his thumb across her lips. Hazel closed her eyes at the warmth of his touch.He kissed her—softly, deeply.Hazel kissed him back, matching his pace. The kiss stretched out, unhurried, full of quiet tension. When he finally pulled away, he stayed close, his forehead nearly touching hers.“If it hurts,” he whispered, “just tell me.”Hazel said nothing. She only wet her lips with her tongue, her breath still shaky.That silence was enough. He kissed her again, slower this time, trailing his lips down her neck.Then he gently pushed himself inside her.Hazel gasped, clinging to his hair, her fingers curling in. A quiet moan escaped her lips as he began to move—slow and carefully.It wasn’t like him.
It had been four days, and Francisco’s men still hadn’t found Ron.Nothing.Not a trace.No word.Ron had been one of his most trusted men.Even Martin had no clue. Wherever Rafael was keeping him, it was off the grid.Francisco sat on the porch, deep in thought. His eyes were heavy, jaw tight. He leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee, fingers grazing his chin.Hazel noticed him sitting there, alone.Though he tried to seem normal around her, she could see right through it. His face gave it away—the weight, the tension.She walked toward him.Francisco heard her footsteps and slowly lowered his hand.“You seem tense,” Hazel said gently.Francisco gave her a faint smile.“Maybe…”He leaned back in the chair, exhaling. “Seems that bastard won’t let me breathe.”At the mention of Rafael, Hazel shifted her gaze, avoiding his eyes.She walked to the railing and rested her elbow on it, her cheek pressed into her hand. She stared at the yard, unmoving, lost in thought.Francisco turned h
Hazel asked in a low, uncertain voice, “Is everything okay?”Francisco didn’t answer right away. He stayed quiet, as if searching for the words.After a long pause, he finally spoke.“Yeah... just tired.”“Sometimes I just want to disappear. Leave everything behind.”“Somewhere no one can find me. Just you and me.”“No chaos. No pressure. Nothing.”Hazel gently moved her fingers through his hair, listening. His words felt heavy, almost like a confession.Without thinking much, she asked, “Do you feel bad... doing those things?”Silence!Francisco didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened.“It doesn’t matter what you feel,” he finally said. “You just do what the world demands from you.”“That’s the world I grew up in.”He lifted his head from her lap and looked into her eyes.Hazel slowly lowered her gaze, but their eyes met halfway.His voice dropped, raw and unsure.“Hazel, can I tell you everything I want?”Hazel’s heart skipped a beat.This wasn’t the Francisco she was used to.H