Beneath his ruthless gaze

The Mansion

Chapter 2

Hazel stood in front of the towering black iron gates, her heart thudding so hard it almost drowned out the sound of the engine as the sleek black car that brought her here drove away.

Eros Blackwood’s mansion looked nothing like a home. It was a fortress. Set on a sprawling estate high in the hills, the building loomed over her like a dark castle, its glass windows reflecting the morning sun like cold steel.

Hazel clutched the strap of her bag. Yesterday, she had been a low-level assistant in his company. Now she was about to serve the most terrifying man she had ever met—up close and personal.

The gates opened without a sound, as if someone had been watching her. Hazel stepped inside, every instinct screaming at her to run, but she kept going. For Lily, she reminded herself. For Lily, she would survive this.

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The front doors were opened by a woman in her late forties, dressed in a crisp black uniform. Her brown hair was tied neatly in a bun, and her sharp eyes swept over Hazel like she was being measured.

“You must be the new maid,” the woman said. Her tone was cool, not unfriendly but certainly not welcoming.

Hazel nodded nervously. “Yes… I’m Hazel Moore.”

The woman gave a short nod. “I’m Mrs. Wren, head of the household staff. Whatever Mr. Blackwood tells you to do, you do it without question. Understood?”

Hazel swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Wren gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Come. I’ll show you to your quarters.”

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The inside of the mansion was breathtaking—and intimidating. High ceilings with black crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, walls adorned with dark, expensive art. It was beautiful, but cold, like the man who owned it.

“Your room is in the west wing,” Mrs. Wren explained as they walked. “Breakfast is at 7 a.m., dinner at 8 p.m. Mr. Blackwood’s schedule is… unpredictable. You’ll be on call whenever he needs you.”

Hazel frowned. “On call?”

Mrs. Wren glanced at her, her expression unreadable. “You’ll learn soon enough. He’s not an easy man, Hazel. Don’t cross him. And never—” she paused, lowering her voice—“never go into his private study unless invited. Is that clear?”

Hazel nodded quickly. “Clear.”

---

Her room was small but comfortable—a simple bed, a wardrobe, and a window overlooking the courtyard. It was far better than she expected.

After Mrs. Wren left, Hazel sat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm her racing mind. She had never felt so out of place in her life.

But she had barely unpacked when a knock sounded on her door.

“Miss Moore,” a deep, familiar voice called.

Hazel froze. Eros.

She jumped up and opened the door. Eros stood there, dressed in a black shirt and tailored trousers that fit him like they were made for his body—broad shoulders, lean muscle, and that aura of danger that clung to him like a second skin.

“Follow me,” he said simply.

Hazel hesitated for a split second, then obeyed.

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He led her through the long hallways until they reached a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows and a grand piano in the corner. A few men stood by the wall, dressed in black suits—bodyguards, Hazel realized. Their sharp gazes swept over her like she was being judged.

Eros stopped and turned to her, his dark eyes locking on hers.

“From now on, you’ll be responsible for my personal quarters. My meals, my clothing, anything I ask for. Mrs. Wren will teach you the basics, but when I give an order, you answer to me. Understand?”

Hazel swallowed hard. “Yes, Mr. Blackwood.”

“Good.” His gaze dropped briefly to her trembling hands, and his lips curved slightly. “You’re nervous. Don’t be. I don’t bite…” He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Unless you give me a reason.”

Hazel’s breath caught in her throat. Was that a joke? Or a warning? She couldn’t tell.

---

The rest of the morning was a blur. Mrs. Wren taught her how to set the table, where the cleaning supplies were, and how the staff rotated duties. But Hazel’s mind kept drifting to the man upstairs—the man she owed everything to, and yet feared more than anyone.

By afternoon, she was called again.

“Mr. Blackwood wants coffee in his study,” one of the other maids told her.

Hazel carried the tray, her hands trembling slightly. She remembered Mrs. Wren’s warning about his study.

Taking a deep breath, Hazel knocked softly before stepping inside.

The study was a stark contrast to the rest of the house—warm wood, shelves lined with books, and a faint smell of leather and whiskey. Eros sat behind a massive desk, his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. He didn’t look up as she entered.

“Put it there,” he said, his voice smooth and commanding.

Hazel set the tray down carefully, but her eyes caught something unusual—papers scattered across the desk, some with strange symbols and what looked like… maps. Her curiosity lingered for a second too long.

“Do you make a habit of staring at things that don’t concern you?”

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find his piercing gaze fixed on her.

“N-no, sir,” she stammered.

Eros leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing. “Good. Because curiosity, Hazel…” he said slowly, his tone darkening, “…can be dangerous.”

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Hazel left the room with her pulse hammering in her chest. She didn’t know what kind of man Eros really was, but there was something in those papers, in that tone of his, that screamed danger.

And yet… when she thought of him, of the way his eyes had lingered on her, her stomach knotted with something else entirely—something she didn’t want to name.

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