Max dismissed the nonchalance in his tone, a stark contrast to the turmoil that echoed in the room.
As Max walked away, Diana couldn't bear the sight of him in such a state. She hurriedly caught up with him, determined to intervene in the internal conflict that seemed to consume them both.
"But as a doctor, I can't see you in this way," Diana pleaded, her genuine concern cutting through the tense air. Max halted, closing his eyes as if bracing himself for the storm of emotions.
"You want to treat a criminal?"
"It will not be good for your reputation."
Unable to meet his gaze, she let her gaze fall, her heart aching with an unspoken burden.
Suddenly, the sharp sound of a cracking door pierced the silence. Diana's eyes shot up, catching sight of Max leaving the apartment.
Her heart sank, the reality of the situation hitting her with full force. Tears welled up in her eyes as she slid down to the ground, the weight of the moment bearing down on her shoulders.
Did I really do excess with him?
Is this the end for us?
The questions echoed in Diana's mind.
Emily stepped out of the car, her return to Italy marking the end of a show in Paris. Her revealing outfit left little to the imagination, a clear signal that she had come prepared to captivate Francisco's attention.
The alluring sway of her long legs and the pronounced curves of her bosom accentuated by the tight dress made it evident that seduction was on Emily's agenda.
Walking through the hall room, she moved with confidence, each step calculated to draw attention.
As Emily descended the staircase, she encountered a maid who felt compelled to intervene.
The maid, with a respectful tone, cautioned, "Ma'am, if you intend to go to the boss's room, please don't go. He is busy right now."
"Busy?" Emily echoed, her eyebrows arching in curiosity.
Pushing her hair back with a seductive smile, she responded, "Don't worry, if he sees me, he won't be angry."
Her confidence was unwavering, and the playful undertone in her voice hinted at a familiarity with Francisco.
As Emily prepared to ascend the stairs, the maid intercepted her once again, delivering news that struck her like a sudden blow.
"Ms. Emily, please, Boss is with his secretary," the maid informed, a note of caution in her voice.
Emily, momentarily stunned, sought clarification, unable to believe the unexpected revelation.
"What did you say?" she questioned, a hint of disbelief coloring her words.
The maid, unfazed, confirmed, "Yes, Ms."
Emily's throat tightened as she processed the information. Her gaze instinctively lifted to Francisco's bedroom door, and a chill ran down her spine. It was a revelation that cut through her with an unexpected sharpness.
It was her first time hearing that Francisco allowed another woman to be in his room.
He only allowed her to spend the night in his room, though it was not the entire night — just a few precious hours. The revelation that he was now granting the same privilege to another woman ignited a mix of emotions within Emily.
He allows another girl.
The thought echoed in Emily's mind, a stark contrast to the assumptions she had held about her relationship with Francisco.
The revelation hit Emily like a sudden storm, leaving her in a state of disbelief.
Could it be that Francisco's desire for her had reached its end?
Lost in her tumultuous thoughts, Emily was jolted back to reality by the persistent voice of the maid.
"Ms. Emily!"
Tightening her grip, Emily, without uttering a word, left the room. The heaviness in her heart was palpable, and questions swirled in her mind like a tempest.
What does it mean, Francisco?
Who is she that makes you spend the night?
Emily grappled with the uncertainty of the situation. She had been with Francisco for the last two years, willingly accepting every demand he made. Their arrangement had its benefits, but for Emily, the most crucial aspect was her love for him. She had willingly embraced the role of his mistress, but the thought of separation had never crossed her mind.
The next morning, Hazel stirred slowly, her eyes still closed in the haze of sleep. As her hands explored the unfamiliar surroundings, they encountered something hard. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and the first sight that greeted her was a hot, broad chest.
Blinking away the remnants of sleep, Hazel found herself brushing her fingers against the chest. Still in a drowsy state, she wasn't fully aware of her actions. Suddenly, she felt a hand wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to the chest. Surprisingly, she didn't resist, and the touch felt oddly comforting, as if it was a familiar routine.
Closing her eyes once more, Hazel rested her head against the chest, embracing the warmth and comfort it offered. It seemed, in her weariness, she was accustomed to sleeping in this intimate way.
However, as the moments stretched, Hazel cracked open her eyes and, to her sudden realization, found herself entwined with someone she didn't expect. Jumping up from the embrace, she crawled to the edge of the bed, her back facing the unexpected sight that lay before her.
"What are you doing?"
Hazel's stern question cut through the morning air, challenging the unexpected scenario she found herself in.
Despite the formalities that usually accompanied their interactions, Hazel, in her state of surprise, didn't feel the need to address Francisco with a Sir.
Her gaze roamed over his half-naked form, the sculpted muscular abs drawing attention, a visual temptation that could ensnare anyone.
Francisco, seemingly unperturbed, blinked his eyes and casually placed his hand behind his head, a nonchalant gesture that contradicted the intimate situation.
"I am sleeping," he responded, his tone betraying little emotion.
Hazel's eyes narrowed at his reply, not satisfied with the vague answer.
"You are sleeping here with me?"
"Why?"
"As you can see, you were sleeping with me,"
Francisco retorted, his words carrying a hint of amusement. The audacity of his statement left Hazel momentarily taken aback.
Arching her brows, Hazel decided to put some distance between them. Rising from the bed, she turned around. A mirror behind her reflected the image of herself wearing a white silk nightie that gracefully ended at her thigh.
The silk nightie, a sensuous caress against her skin, embodies an allure that transcends mere fabric.
A stunned silence enveloped Hazel as her gaze fell upon herself in the mirror, clad in the white silk nightie that hinted at an intimacy she couldn't recall. The unsettling thought echoed in her mind.
Did something happen last night?
The realization further deepened as Hazel spotted a mark on her collarbone. Her brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and concern, and she couldn't help but voice the pressing question, "What?"
"What happened last night?"
Her tone was firm, demanding answers for the night.
Francisco, slowly getting up from bed, approached Hazel with deliberate steps. Standing right behind her, he met her gaze through the mirror.
Their eyes locked, Hazel's reflection revealing an unmistakable lack of fear.