05

•HAZEL STEWART•

I couldn't believe what I was doing. Me, kneeling in front of this man, my knees pressing into the cold, hard floor of his enormous office. My cheeks burned, a mixture of maybe mortification and something I refused to name heating me from the inside out and resting in the core between my legs. Raffaele Mancini stood over me, larger than life, his shirt and waistcoat fitting his body like a second skin, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he watched me from above.

God, why did he have to look like that? The overhead light cast shadows across his strong jawline, the stubble around his cheeks adding a rugged edge to his flawless appearance. From this angle, he looked impossibly tall, impossibly powerful and impossibly sexy. My eyes betrayed me, flicking to his broad chest, down to the way his long fingers rested casually in his pockets and then to his crotch. My throat felt dry, and my heart hammered in my chest, and I internally struggled to take my eyes away from there. I silently and earnestly prayed that non of my internal struggles and impure thoughts were visible on my face cause the last thing I'd want is for this man to know he has this much power over me in this aspect. Though I somehow feel really eager to know the things he'd do to me if he found out, Oh Hazel.

“You look good down there, Hazel,” he said, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm.

I grit my teeth, forcing my gaze to his polished shoes instead of his maddeningly attractive face and bulging crotch. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I never said I wasn’t,” he replied with a shrug.

His casual confidence made me want to scream. My pride was already in tatters, and the last thing I needed was to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his presence affected me. Still, my mind continuously betrayed me, conjuring thoughts I had no business thinking. His long fingers caressing my cheek instead of my lips. His strong hands gripping—

“Focus, Hazel,” I hissed under my breath.

But then he bent, one knee on the floor in front of me, his movements slow and deliberate. His hand reached out, and before I could stop him, his thumb brushed over my bottom lip. The sensation was electric, sending a shiver down my spine. My breath hitched, and for one terrifying moment, I thought he could hear the erratic pounding of my heart.

“You’ll find,” he murmured, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper, “that obedience has its rewards.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting, swallowing the inappropriate heat that his touch ignited. He straightened, towering over me once more, and shoved his hands back into his pockets. “Someone will show you to your room,” he said, turning on his heel. “Stay on your knees until they arrive.”

The fucking audacity of this man.

I glared at his retreating back, half tempted to jump up and throw something at him. But instead, I stayed frozen, my pride warring with the strange, unwelcome thrill that lingered from his touch. What the hell is wrong with me? I have never been this reckless or this crazy before.

Only ever happened the few times when I was around him.

By the time I was shown to my room, I was still fuming, pacing back and forth in the massive space. The room was far nicer than anything I had ever stayed in, with a king-sized bed draped in expensive linens and a wardrobe large enough to house an army’s worth of clothes. But none of it mattered. I felt trapped without my phone, without my freedom.

I stopped in front of the vanity mirror, taking in my disheveled appearance. My hair was a mess, my cheeks still flushed from earlier. I groaned, dragging my hands down my face.

A soft knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. The door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a neat apron stepped inside. “Miss Hazel, Don Mancini has asked me to tell you to prepare for dinner. There are fresh clothes in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is ready for you.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the edge of the bed. “You can tell Mr. Mancini I’m not hungry.”

The woman’s expression faltered, her smile slipping just slightly. “I’ll let him know,” she said hesitantly before leaving the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, I let out a frustrated sigh and flopped onto the bed. Who did he think he was, ordering me around like this? I wasn’t one of his lackeys or one of those women who probably fell at his feet willingly. No, I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

A few minutes passed, and I began to wonder if the woman would actually pass on my message. Maybe Raffaele would leave me alone. Maybe I could finally get a moment to breathe.

The sound of the door opening again dashed those hopes.

I sat up, my pulse spiking when Raffaele walked in, his presence filling the room like a storm. He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, his gray eyes locking onto mine.

“I heard you’ve decided to disobey me,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

I stood, squaring my shoulders even as my stomach flipped nervously. “I didn’t exactly agree to all of these arrangements to become your puppet, Raffaele. And I’m not planning on taking orders from you either.”

He took a slow step toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. “This isn’t about agreeing, Hazel. You made a deal. And in this house, you’ll follow my rules.”

“I didn’t realize your rules included bathing and eating on command,” I snapped, my annoyance flaring despite the tension in the room.

He stopped just a breath away, his towering frame making the space between us feel suffocating. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back up to my eyes. “This is your first and only warning,” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “I'll be letting you off easy this time. Defy me again, and you’ll face the consequences.”

My heart pounded, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or something else entirely. The air between us felt charged, his proximity making it hard to think straight.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, though my voice wavered slightly.

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, as if he found my resistance amusing. “You should be,” he replied, his tone soft but firm.

Before I could respond, he turned toward the exit , leaving me standing there, my fists clenched at my sides.

Damn him. Damn his arrogance. Damn the way he made my heart race and my thoughts spiral.

I don't know if it was the anger or earlier embarrassment I'd received in his study, or the fact that I couldn't just let him have the upper hand or maybe all of it combined, I somehow found the courage to call out to him before he left the room,

"Raffaele!" He turned to look at me and walked back in the room.

"You want me to have a bath yeah? Okay then, I will."

Without breaking the gaze, I reached for the hem of my shirt and slowly pulled it over my head.