Ruin you from head to toe

Hazel finished her dinner, but Francisco remained behind closed doors. An hour passed, and her curiosity deepened when she spotted a maid making her way towards his room. Hazel's eyebrows arched inquisitively.

Contemplating whether to approach him, Hazel hesitated. If Francisco didn't open the door, how could she initiate a conversation? Deep in thought, she walked towards her room, clutching the book tightly. Upon locking the door, Hazel sighed, feeling a sense of frustration.

"Damn it. I need to do something. But what can I do?"

 She muttered, sinking onto her bed. With a determined breath, she opened the book, hoping its pages might offer solace or distraction.

As Hazel continued reading the book, she stumbled upon a dialogue in Italian, seemingly spoken by a character playing both the hero and the villain, expressing feelings towards a girl. Her fingers traced the sentences, feeling the rhythmic flow of the depth of the meaning.

Suddenly, as if struck by an idea, Hazel stood up, her mind buzzing with thoughts. Without second-guessing herself, she walked out of her room and headed towards Francisco's door. With a determined resolve, she knocked, and to her surprise, the door unlocked almost instantly.

Pushing the door open, Hazel found Francisco amidst a sea of papers, a glass in hand. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

 "Hazel!" he exclaimed.

He looked up, wearing a night suit with an open chest. Hazel's gaze lingered momentarily on his attire before she spoke.

"Sorry to disturb you. I didn't know you were working, Mr. Francisco," she apologized, maintaining a respectful tone.

"You can come," Francisco replied, inviting her inside.

 Hazel hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room.

As Hazel stepped into the room, Francisco's gaze caught the absence of footwear on her feet.

Francisco, tugging his hair back from his eyes, asked, "What happened?"

The room held an undercurrent of tension as Hazel stood before him, having interrupted his solitary night of work.

The truth was that Francisco had intentionally avoided dining with Hazel, driven by a tempest of desire and lack of control. The mere thought of spending more time with Hazel at the dining table threatened to push him beyond the brink.

Yet, fate seemed to have other plans as she walked into his room. He couldn't resist the chance to engage with his prey differently.

"Mr. Francisco, I don't know Italian, but there is a lot of dialogue in it," Hazel explained, her eyes meeting his in a moment of vulnerability.

Francisco, keeping his gaze on her, allowed a subtle smile to play on his lips. He rose from his chair, a predator sensing an opportunity for his prey. The air thickened with tension as he approached Hazel.

She lowered her gaze, her words hesitant.

"I am sorry if I am bothering you. I will ask someone else to help me."

Hazel, expressing her intention to leave, turned to exit, only to be halted by the sudden placement of a masculine hand on the door. She shifted her gaze to find herself caged between Francisco's arms, the door serving as an unyielding barrier.

"Come with me," Francisco's voice resonated, its undertones both commanding and alluring.

"I will teach you."

His hand gestured for her to follow, and Hazel, compelled by a magnetic pull, walked toward the couch and took a seat. Francisco joined her, the book in hand.

As he opened the book, Hazel's eyes involuntarily fell to the table covered with papers and a map. Francisco seemed engrossed in marking something on the map, and Hazel's curiosity heightened.

Was he making his next dealing spots?

Hazel quickly took note of the marked areas on the map and, feeling a sense of unease, voiced her concern, "Mr. Francisco, I am really bothering you."

"Not really," Francisco replied, taking a sip as he dismissed her worry.

"I... I really won't forget your debt," Hazel insisted, her voice tinged with gratitude.

"You owe me."

His gaze, piercing and calculating, shifted to Hazel as he continued, "Really."

"Yes, and thank you," Hazel murmured, lowering her gaze. However, Francisco's stern expression prompted her to look up again.

Francisco closed the book, his stern gaze fixed on Hazel.

"You know I am a business person, Hazel. Do you think only thanks can pay for everything?"

Hazel's heart quickened at his words, realizing that Francisco's expectations went beyond mere gratitude. She steeled herself, understanding that whatever cost lay ahead, she would pay it willingly for the sake of the mission.

"Do you need anything?"

"I... I don't have much money to pay," Hazel admitted hesitantly, her vulnerability exposed.

His eyes never left hers.

"Money?"

Francisco raised one eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Do you think I don't have enough money?"

"No... No, I didn't mean to say it," Hazel quickly clarified, her words carrying a touch of anxiety.

She pressed her lips together, uncertain of how to proceed, and finally asked, "What can I do, Mr. Francisco?"

As Francisco considered her question, his gaze suddenly landed on Hazel's lips, which she was pressing.

A storm of conflicting thoughts brewed in his mind.

I am not a gentleman.

I can mess with you right here, Hazel.

But I don't know why I just want you not to mess with you.

I just desire to ruin you, totally ruin you from head to toe, place my marks everywhere.

No one has stopped me before, the way you are stopping me now.

Whatever I like, I just take it, whether it's mine or not.

 But when it comes to you, I stop myself.

Why?

Why is this happening to me?

 Is it because once you saved my life?

Is it because, without my permission, you kissed me?

In the midst of his internal struggle, Francisco uttered in a heavy and ordering tone, "Sit here."

Hazel's eyes widened in stunned disbelief as Francisco's commanding words hung in the air.

"What?" she asked, her tone filled with surprise and uncertainty.

"Sit here," Francisco repeated, tapping on his lap, a challenge and an invitation intertwined. Hazel gulped slowly, her jaw tightening.

She didn't utter a word, nor did she make a move to comply with Francisco's unexpected request.

"So, you can't do this," Francisco remarked, his voice holding a hint of observation. Hazel's knuckles tightened, a silent determination evident in her stance.

Slowly, she got up from her seat, refusing to succumb to the unexpected demand.

Francisco tilted his head, realizing that Hazel was genuinely intent on maintaining her boundaries.

As the seconds ticked by, Francisco's mind raced with thoughts.

If someone asks her to sleep, will she easily comply?

Tightening his jaw at the unexpected turn of thoughts, Francisco was jolted back to the present as Hazel's trembling and cold hands touched his lap. His gaze shifted to her face, but she kept her eyes down, avoiding his gaze.

"Mr. Francisco!" Hazel exclaimed.

He remained silent, watching her with an inscrutable expression.

"If I just sit like this without sitting on your lap, would it be okay?"

Hazel questioned.

Francisco's expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and amusement crossing his face. He hadn't expected Hazel to make such a statement, but he found himself pleased that she hadn't immediately complied with his unspoken demand. A smirk played on his lips.

Ignoring her question, Francisco abruptly grabbed Hazel's waist and effortlessly pulled her into his lap. Hazel, taken aback by the sudden move, attempted to get up, but Francisco held her in place.

"Mr. Francisco, it's..."

 Hazel began, her words trailing off as he interrupted her.

"Don't you want to hear what is written in the book?" Francisco asked, his tone both commanding and playful.

Their eyes met in a shared glance, and slowly, Hazel nodded in reluctant agreement.

Hazel found herself sitting on Francisco's lap, his arm wrapped around her waist while the other held the book. As he began to read the dialogues from the book, his deep, seductive voice took on the persona of the male lead, and Hazel listened attentively, captivated by the story.

Francisco explained the meanings of the Italian phrases, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to resonate with the male character of the tale.

Hazel, feigning intense interest, leaned on him, seemingly engrossed in his reading.

In truth, her motive was to win his trust. Hazel was well-versed in Italian and proficient in several languages, including reading, writing, and speaking.

The claim of not understanding Italian was a deliberate lie, a strategic move to bring her closer to Francisco.

Her gaze wandered to his long fingers and strong arms, a calculated move to further embed herself in his world. With a deliberate slowness, Hazel closed her eyes, pretending to succumb to the soothing rhythm of his voice as if drifting into a feigned slumber.

The phrases from the book filled the room, Hazel, in her feigned slumber, had slowly leaned onto Francisco's hard chest, seeking warmth in his embrace.

Francisco, immersed in the story he had been reading, abruptly stopped as he felt her weight shift.

Taking a deep breath, he closed the book, his eyes shutting as he processed the unexpected turn of events. The grip of his hand on her waist tightened, his emotions swirling in the charged atmosphere.

"F**k!"

He cursed, the expletive escaping his lips as he pressed them against her scalp. Hazel, seemingly oblivious to the sudden change, continued to sleep, her long lashes gracefully closed.

"Hazel!"

 Francisco called her name, his touch gentle as he lifted her face to meet his gaze. Her long lashes were closed, giving her the appearance of serene sleep.

His thumb traced her lips lightly, and for a brief moment, he simply admired the delicate features of her face.

But looking at her lips for a minute, he pressed his own lips.

"Umm…"

Hazel uttered softly, her voice a mere whisper. Suddenly, she hugged Francisco, burying her face in his hard chest. The unexpected intimacy sent a surge of warmth through him, and for the third time, Francisco felt his heart quicken.

Control over himself slipped away; it seemed he was entangled with Hazel from head to tail.

After sitting there, struggling to regain composure, Francisco finally got up. He moved toward the bed, gently placing Hazel on the soft surface and covering her with a blanket.

Returning to the couch, Francisco attempted to focus on marking his next plan. However, the presence of his beautiful prey sleeping just a few feet away made concentration an elusive feat.

He could feel the bulge of desire, but he had no mood for self-indulgence. Instead, he found himself yearning for Hazel's touch, the thought of her fingers setting his senses ablaze.

"Ah!"

Francisco groaned, succumbing to the frustration that clouded his mind. He got up abruptly and headed to the balcony, seeking a moment of solace in the cool night air.