At the long, elegant dining table, Hazel and Francisco sat at opposite ends, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them. The only sound in the grand room was the faint clinking of cutlery against porcelain.
Lily, quiet and careful, moved between them as she served the meal. Her expression was neutral, but the tension in her movements hinted at unease.
Once her task was done, she quietly exited, leaving the two alone in the vast dining room.
Francisco looked up from his plate. His eyes settled on Hazel, who wore a pink knee-length cocktail dress... one he had chosen himself.
The dress hugged her figure perfectly, each detail tailored to his taste.
His gaze slowly drifted downward, fixating on her cleavage. He exhaled, a slow, audible breath.
Placing both hands on the table, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. His eyes moved from her lips to her fingers.
Hazel, sensing his stare, finally looked up from her plate. Her expression was firm, eyes sharp and unflinching.
"Are you done looking at me?" she asked, her tone cutting and direct.
Francisco didn't flinch. His fingers traced along his chin as he continued to watch her.
"I wish I could," he said softly.
Hazel raised an eyebrow, her expression demanding more.
"But your dress becomes beautiful," Francisco added, tilting his head slightly.
Hazel frowned, confused at first, then caught on. Her brows knitted tighter.
"I know the dress is good," she said coolly.
"But because of that, you don't have to look at it in that shameless way."
"You can buy another one for your girlfriend."
Francisco chuckled, unfazed. He picked up his fork again, speaking in his usual calm tone.
"I said the dress became beautiful," he replied, "I didn't say the dress was beautiful."
That was enough.
Hazel shoved her chair back and stood. Her fists clenched at her sides.
Francisco watched her, chewing slowly.
"Is this your manner?" he asked casually, not looking up from his plate.
"I'm full. I can't eat anymore," Hazel said flatly.
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her steps quick and firm as she climbed the stairs. Francisco watched her go.
Francisco leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on Hazel as she ascended the stairs. Just then, Lily approached.
"Master," she said softly.
Francisco glanced at her. "Lily, don't forget... she's not a normal girl."
He spoke calmly, but the warning was clear.
"You should be more careful. If I hadn't come at the right time, she could've been heavy on you."
Lily nodded, taking in the gravity of his words.
Upstairs, Hazel sat on the bed with her back pressed against the cupboard, a magazine open in her hands.
Her thoughts were miles away.
The dread of nightfall weighed on her... of having to share a room, a bed, with the man who had taken Rafael's life.
Her heart wavered between two unbearable choices... endure Francisco's presence, or risk her parents' safety.
As the door creaked open, Hazel didn't move. She already knew it was him.
She heard the soft clink of his wristwatch landing on the side table. His footsteps followed... calm, deliberate.
Still, she didn't look up.
She felt his stare before she saw it.
Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his.
Francisco stood beside her, his shirt half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. His presence was unshakable... commanding, quietly dangerous. Hazel looked away again.
She took a breath, steadying herself. Then she placed the magazine aside and laid her hands on her knees, her voice clear and firm.
"You told me you would give me a chance to talk to my parents."
Francisco didn't flinch. "But did you behave properly?" he asked, his tone casual, almost smug.
'I knew it.'
Hazel's chest tightened. She bit her lip hard, trying to hold back the frustration. Her fists clenched, trembling slightly in her lap.
Hazel took a deep breath and locked eyes with Francisco.
"Do whatever with me," she said, her voice calm despite the storm raging inside her.
"You brought me here for sex, right?"
"I'll comply, but I need to know if they're okay or not."
She held her ground, eyes unblinking, her will unbroken... willing to endure anything for her parents.
Francisco stepped in, breaching her space with a slow, deliberate touch. His fingers wove through her hair, his smirk curling with twisted satisfaction as he drank in her submission.
Hazel didn't flinch, her body rigid, eyes turned away from his.
He climbed onto the bed.
Leaning over her, he let his fingers drift from her hair to her neck, pausing at the bite mark he'd left.
"You want me to do whatever I want, right?" Francisco murmured, voice low and teasing.
His hand tightened around her waist, the other slid around her throat with possessive weight. Hazel stayed still, lips pressed tight, her silence louder than any scream.
Francisco lowered his mouth to her collarbone, trailing his tongue across the mark.
He pressed his face into her chest, kissing the bruised skin where he'd bitten her. His nose brushed inside her cleavage, inhaling deeply.
Then, his voice came out calm and cold as he stayed there, "Don't give them stress, and just be calm."
Pulling back, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and made the call. He placed it on speaker and handed it to Hazel. Her hand trembled as she took it, heart thudding wildly in her chest.
The line rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then her mother's voice crackled through.
"Hello?"
"Mom, it's me," Hazel said, her voice tight with emotion.
"Honey! Where have you been? Are you guys okay? I called your number so many times, but it was switched off. I called Rafael as well…"
"What happened to you guys?"
Hazel's throat tightened. She glanced at Francisco, who watched her with a cold, unreadable stare.
"Mom, I'm fine," Hazel said, forcing her voice to stay steady.
"We were busy, and... don't call Rafael."
"Don't call him? What do you mean?" her mother pressed.
"Are you guys okay? And why is your voice so heavy?"
"Are you okay, love?"
Hazel drew in a slow breath. She looked at Francisco again. His gaze stayed locked on her.
"Mom, everything is fine," she replied, trying to sound casual.
"It's just that we'll be busy. Both Rafael and I. I'll call you when I have time, okay?"
"Yeah, but is this your new number?" her mother asked quickly.
Hazel hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Francisco in a silent question. He gave her a small nod.
"Yes, Mom," she replied.
"Tell Papa I love him. I'll call you later."
Before her mother could ask anything more, Hazel ended the call and handed the phone back to Francisco, her fingers cold and tense.
Francisco stared at the screen for a beat, then exhaled sharply.
"You should not have cut the call before her, Hazel."
Hazel narrowed her eyes.
"Are you trying to say I gave her a hint through it?"
Francisco's smile stayed fixed, but it didn't reach his eyes. He leaned back, tilting his head slightly as if amused.
"You have a lot of mood swing problems."
"Just some minutes ago, you were pleading and telling me to have sex with you. But now you've become a mischievous cat."
Hazel didn't flinch. She sat upright, expression firm.
Francisco stood up from the bed, straightening his shirt. "I reject your proposal, Hazel," he said coldly.
"I'll give the call when I feel like it."
He walked a few steps, then turned back with a mocking smirk.
"And about the sex... I have Emily."