Beneath his ruthless gaze

The Billionaire's Rules

Chapter 3

The next morning, Hazel woke to the sound of a bell. It wasn’t loud, but it sent a chill down her spine because she’d been told what it meant.

Eros Blackwood was calling.

She scrambled out of bed, quickly fixing her hair and buttoning the crisp maid uniform Mrs. Wren had left for her. It felt strange to wear the fitted black dress with the white apron, but she didn’t have the luxury to complain.

The mansion’s hallways were silent as she hurried to his quarters. She hesitated before knocking on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” his deep voice called from inside.

Hazel pushed the door open and froze.

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Eros stood by the tall windows, shirtless, his powerful frame bathed in morning light. His back was to her, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing as he adjusted the cufflinks of his trousers. He didn’t look like any billionaire she had ever imagined—he looked like a man who could break you with a single touch.

Hazel forced her gaze down, her cheeks heating. “You… you called for me?”

Eros turned, his dark eyes locking on her. There was something almost amused in his gaze as if he could read every thought she was trying to hide.

“I did,” he said simply. “From now on, you’ll handle my mornings. That means preparing my coffee, ensuring my suits are ready, and keeping this room spotless.”

Hazel nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Also,” he added, walking closer until he stood just a step away, towering over her, “there are rules.”

“Rules?” she asked softly.

“Rule number one,” he said, his voice low but firm, “you do not ask questions about my business. Ever. Rule number two—you don’t go anywhere in this mansion without my permission. And rule number three…” He leaned slightly closer, his gaze intense. “…you do not look at me unless I tell you to.”

Hazel blinked, taken aback. “Look at you?”

“Like that,” he said with a faint smirk. “Like you’re trying to figure me out. I don’t like being figured out, Hazel.”

Hazel swallowed, quickly averting her eyes. “Understood.”

---

The day dragged on with endless tasks. Hazel polished the silverware, dusted the grand library, and tried to ignore the curious stares from the other staff.

One maid, a young blonde named Clara, whispered to her while they were cleaning the dining room. “You must have done something crazy to end up as his personal maid.”

Hazel stiffened. “Why do you say that?”

“Because no one gets that job,” Clara said with a little smirk. “He doesn’t let just anyone near him. And… well, be careful. Mr. Blackwood isn’t like other men. He doesn’t… play nice.”

Hazel’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

Clara’s gaze darted around, as if worried someone would hear. “There are rumors. People say he has ties to the underworld. That he runs more than just a company. Some even say…” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “…he’s part of a mafia syndicate. That’s why no one crosses him.”

Hazel froze. She thought about the papers she’d seen in his study yesterday. Could the rumors be true?

---

That night, Hazel was called again to his study. Her hands trembled as she knocked, memories of Clara’s words fresh in her mind.

Eros was seated at his desk, his dark suit jacket draped over the back of his chair. His tie was undone, his hair slightly mussed, but he still radiated raw authority.

“Coffee,” he ordered without looking up.

Hazel quickly set the cup in front of him. Her gaze accidentally flickered to the papers on his desk—more maps, black-and-white photos of men with tattoos, and a sleek black gun resting beside the files. Her blood ran cold.

“Something catch your eye?” Eros asked suddenly, his tone deceptively calm.

Hazel jumped. “N-no, sir. I wasn’t—”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, finally lifting his gaze to hers. “Come here.”

Her feet felt heavy as she stepped closer to his desk.

Eros leaned back, studying her. “You’re wondering what kind of man I am, aren’t you?”

Hazel hesitated, then nodded slightly.

A dangerous smile curved his lips. “I’m the kind of man who doesn’t forgive easily. You stole from me. And yet, I let you live. Do you know why?”

Hazel shook her head.

“Because I see something in you,” he said slowly, his gaze dark and unreadable. “But don’t mistake my patience for weakness, Hazel. If you cross me again, I won’t hesitate to remind you who I am.”

Hazel’s breath hitched. There was something both terrifying and magnetic about him—something that made her heart race for all the wrong reasons.

---

Later, when she returned to her room, Hazel sat on her bed, staring at her hands. She should hate him. She should fear him. But every time she thought of his dark eyes and the way his voice wrapped around her like velvet, a shiver ran through her.

This was dangerous. Not just his world—but him.

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