Wicked Attraction

Chapter 4

"Do you honestly think I look good in this dress?" Hazel asked, tugging self-consciously at the hem.

"Yes," Sasha said without hesitation. "And I've already told you that. Now get your sexy ass back in there and change—we still have a lot more shopping to do."

Hazel rolled her eyes but obeyed, retreating to the dressing room.

She had to admit, Sasha had excellent taste. Every dress, every pair of jeans, every top Sasha picked somehow fit her perfectly. They highlighted curves Hazel had spent years hiding beneath oversized hoodies and borrowed sweatshirts. It was both flattering and mildly terrifying.

Looking good was one thing.

Actually letting people see her was another.

After what felt like the hundredth outfit change, Hazel finally slipped back into her oversized hoodie. At Sasha's insistence, she'd kept on the biker shorts she'd tried earlier, abandoning her sweatpants after the fifth time of wrestling them on and off.

"Finally," Sasha declared when Hazel emerged.

"Yeah, yeah," Hazel muttered. "Let's just get this over with. I still can't believe you talked me into this."

"You love it."

"I tolerate it."

Sasha simply flipped her hair and strutted toward the next store, her heels clicking confidently against the polished floor.

Hazel followed, shaking her head. She genuinely had no idea how Sasha managed to walk in heels for hours without collapsing. Hazel's feet ached after a normal day in her Jordans.

"Next stop: shoes!" Sasha announced.

Hazel looked down at her sneakers. "What's wrong with my Jordans?"

Sasha stopped dead in her tracks, horrified. "After all the cute outfits we just bought you, you think I'm going to let you wear those with them?"

"I thought that was exactly the plan."

"Nope. Not even close."

She hooked her arm through Hazel's and steered her toward the shoe store.

"We're finding you cute heels, sandals, and maybe a few other essentials."

Hazel sighed dramatically as another eye roll threatened to permanently damage her vision.

This was going to be a very long day.

Three hours later, after what felt like an endless marathon of shopping bags, dressing rooms, and Sasha's relentless enthusiasm, they finally collapsed at the food court.

Hazel had ordered something simple—shrimp fried rice—insisting she didn't want Sasha spending another dime on her. Of course, Sasha had ignored every protest and paid for lunch anyway.

"It's on me," she'd said for what was probably the tenth time. "Stop arguing."

Now they sat surrounded by shopping bags, the evidence of Sasha's mission piled high around their table.

Hazel had just taken her first bite when she noticed the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Conversations around them quieted. Heads turned. Whispers spread.

Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder.

And immediately forgot how to breathe.

Alexander Roman was walking toward them, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans, moving with the effortless confidence of a man who knew exactly the effect he had on a room. Four bodyguards flanked him, their presence impossible to ignore, though somehow Alexander still commanded all the attention.

Hazel swallowed too quickly, nearly choking on her food. She grabbed her water and took a long sip, trying—and failing—to compose herself.

"Girls," Alexander said as he approached, his gaze sweeping over the mountain of shopping bags.

"Dad," Sasha replied casually before returning to her meal as if her father arriving with an entourage in the middle of the mall was perfectly normal.

"I got a call from the bank."

Even though he spoke quietly, his voice carried.

Without taking his eyes off Sasha, he nodded toward the bags. "Put those in her car."

His men moved immediately, gathering the shopping bags and carrying them out. One bodyguard remained nearby, discreetly stepping to another table to give them privacy while staying close enough to intervene if necessary.

Hazel was used to this. Sasha had grown up with security around her, and over the years, Hazel had learned to treat bodyguards as just another part of Sasha's world.

Alexander turned back to his daughter.

"You spent over five thousand dollars."

Hazel nearly inhaled a piece of shrimp.

"Five thousand?" she sputtered, eyes widening. "Sasha, you didn't tell me it cost that much."

She turned to Alexander, mortified. "I—I'm so sorry. I'll pay you back. I didn't know she spent that much."

Sasha barely looked up from her food. "The clothes were for Hazel."

That got Alexander's full attention.

His blue eyes shifted to Hazel, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. His gaze lingered just a second too long, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before he returned his attention to his daughter.

"It's fine," he said.

Then, to Sasha: "Next time, ask first."

"Dad," Sasha groaned. "I'm not a child."

Alexander arched a brow. "You'll always be my child."

He gestured toward the bodyguard standing nearby. "And he's staying with you."

Sasha muttered something under her breath, but she didn't argue further.

After one last glance—one that Hazel absolutely, definitely imagined lingering—Alexander nodded and headed for the exit.

Hazel stared after him until he disappeared into the crowd.

"You seriously spent five thousand dollars on me?" she whispered.

Sasha shrugged as if they were discussing the weather. "Please. I'd spend a lot more on you."

"Haze, my dad makes that before lunch. He'll survive."

That was another difference between them. Sasha had grown up surrounded by wealth, while Hazel had grown up stretching every dollar until it practically begged for mercy.

Yet Sasha had never once made Hazel feel lesser because of it. In fact, that was why she'd hidden all the price tags in the first place. She understood Hazel's discomfort, understood what money meant—or didn't mean—in Hazel's world.

"I still can't believe you did all this," Hazel said softly.

Sasha reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I've got you. Always."

Then her grin turned mischievous.

"Besides, Dad would never say no if he knew it was for you."

Hazel blinked. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Sasha only shrugged and returned to her lunch, clearly signaling the conversation was over.

But Hazel barely noticed.

Her thoughts had already drifted back to Alexander.

The dark jeans that fit him a little too well. The navy shirt stretched across broad shoulders. The slightly damp, tousled black hair that looked as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. Everything about him radiated power, confidence, and an effortless masculinity that left Hazel entirely too aware of her own heartbeat.

There was something magnetic about him—something dangerous and undeniably captivating.

And that, Hazel thought as she forced herself to focus on her food, was precisely the problem.

As they passed through the gates of Sasha's home, Hazel instinctively sat up a little straighter. She had spent more time at Sasha's house than almost anywhere else outside her own home, yet it never failed to leave her awestruck.

Every single time.

The Roman estate stood apart from the others on the block; its sleek gray exterior was both modern and timeless. It wasn't flashy in the way many mansions were.

Even from the car, Hazel could see the sprawling front courtyard, and it looked as immaculate as ever. The lawn was perfectly manicured, the grass trimmed so evenly it almost looked unreal. Along the edges, rows of white, yellow, and pink flowers bloomed in neat, vibrant clusters, their colors softening the home's contemporary lines.

Everything about the property always felt deliberate, from the carefully designed landscaping to the stately architecture.

Hazel had been coming here for years, and still, crossing those gates always felt a little like stepping into another world.

The inside, however, was an entirely different experience.

For all its size and grandeur, the house never felt cold or impersonal. Instead, it radiated warmth—a rare balance of luxury and comfort that made it feel like a true home rather than just an impressive estate.

The walls were painted a soft eggshell white, giving every room an airy, inviting quality. Natural light poured through expansive windows, illuminating polished hardwood floors and elegant furnishings that somehow managed to look both expensive and lived-in.

The house featured six spacious bedrooms, each with its own private ensuite and an enormous walk-in closet. Hazel had often wondered why Alexander needed such a large home when it was usually just him and Sasha.

Well, him, Sasha... and occasionally Hazel.

Over the years, she had practically become part of the household. In fact, Alexander had insisted she have a room of her own. Though, truthfully, it was rarely used. More often than not, Hazel ended up in Sasha's room, the two of them staying up far too late talking, laughing, and sharing the kind of conversations that only best friends could have.

When the car came to a stop beneath the grand covered entryway, two security guards immediately stepped forward to open their doors. Another two moved to the trunk, already retrieving the mountain of shopping bags.

"Hazel's room," Sasha called as she climbed out, directing them where to take the many shopping bags.

The guards nodded without question and headed inside.

Sasha rounded the car and adjusted the strap of her purse. "Just so you know, it's Sunday, which means we're basically on our own for food tonight. The chef has the day off."

"You're still hungry after all that?" Hazel asked with a laugh.

Sasha placed a hand over her heart in mock offense. "I can't believe you'd question my appetite."

Hazel snorted.

Sasha grinned unapologetically. "What can I say? I'm a growing girl."

That sent both of them into another round of laughter as they stepped inside.

The first thing anyone noticed upon entering the Roman estate was the massive crystal chandelier suspended above the foyer. It cascaded from the soaring ceiling like a waterfall of glass and light, scattering tiny prisms across the marble floor whenever the sun hit it just right.

Hazel had no idea how much it actually weighed, but she was fairly certain it weighed more than she did—and possibly more than one of her brothers too.

It was breathtaking, dramatic, and just a little excessive.

In other words, it was the perfect statement piece for the Roman family.

The girls made their way toward the kitchen, another space Hazel was certain Alexander had spent an outrageous amount of money designing.

It was massive.

Every appliance imaginable had its place, all sleek and high-end, blending seamlessly into the modern design. The countertops stretched endlessly, polished to perfection, and the cabinets were custom-built with a clean, sophisticated finish.

The stove alone was enough to make Hazel pause. It featured eight burners, a built-in grill, and looked like something straight out of a professional chef's dream. Honestly, the entire kitchen felt like one of those spaces you only ever saw in glossy magazines or on home design shows—perfectly styled, almost too beautiful to use.

And yet, despite how pristine everything looked, it still carried that same warm, lived-in feeling the rest of the house had.

Hazel trailed her fingers lightly along the cool marble as she walked further in, shaking her head slightly.

"I swear," Hazel muttered under her breath, "this kitchen gets bigger every time I walk into it."

Sasha grinned knowingly, but Hazel barely noticed.

The moment they stepped further inside, her attention locked onto the man that took over her dreams, standing at the stove.

Alexander Roman had apparently decided shirts were optional after the mall.

Hazel's brain immediately short-circuited.

The soft kitchen lighting highlighted every sculpted muscle across his back and shoulders, the faint sheen of sweat along his skin making the entire sight even more unfair. It looked less like a man casually cooking dinner and more like the cover of some ridiculously expensive cologne ad.

Alexander turned at the sound of their footsteps, and a dazzling smile spread across his face.

Hazel nearly forgot her own name.

"Dad," Sasha groaned dramatically, snapping Hazel out of her trance. "Are you trying to burn the house down again?"

Alexander frowned at his daughter before turning back to the pot on the stove.

"I can't believe the disrespect in this house," he muttered. "For your information, I'm an excellent cook."

The confidence in his tone would have been far more convincing if he didn't sound slightly uncertain by the end of the sentence.

Sasha barked out a laugh.

It was a well-known fact that Alexander Roman could not cook to save his life.

Honestly, it was almost impressive how bad he was at it. Hazel had once wondered if all Italians were naturally gifted in the kitchen, but clearly whatever ancestral cooking gene existed had skipped him entirely.

The man could barely boil water.

Hazel still vividly remembered the time Sasha had asked him to heat water for tea.

Somehow, impossibly, the situation had escalated into an actual kitchen fire.

The fire department had arrived.

Twice.

For weeks afterward, the kitchen had smelled faintly of smoke and burnt metal, though Alexander had stubbornly insisted the entire incident was "dramatically exaggerated."

"It was one small flame," he'd argued.

"The stove exploded," Sasha had replied flatly.

Hazel bit back another laugh at the memory as Alexander stirred whatever questionable creation simmered inside the pot.

The truly dangerous part was that he looked entirely too attractive doing something he was objectively terrible at.

Hazel hated that for herself.

Her gaze drifted around the kitchen again, taking in the luxurious home, the warmth of the space, the easy banter between father and daughter. No matter how many times she came here, it always stirred the same strange feeling inside her chest.

This house wasn't hers.

This life wasn't hers.

And yet, somehow, being here always felt painfully close to what home should have been.

Sometimes Hazel caught herself wondering what it would feel like if it actually was hers.

If she belonged here for real.

Then Alexander glanced at her again, those piercing blue eyes lingering just a second too long once more, and Hazel's heart immediately abandoned every coherent thought she'd ever had.

"So," Alexander dragged out dramatically, stirring whatever questionable meal he was attempting to make, "did you girls finish shopping away all my money?"

Despite the complaint, the grin on his face made it obvious he wasn't actually upset.

Sasha leaned against the kitchen island with a smirk. "You know what, Dad? Now that you mention it, I think we have forgotten a couple of things at the mall today." She paused thoughtfully. "Actually, I should probably keep the card a little longer just in case."

Alexander slowly turned his head toward his daughter.

A silent conversation immediately passed between them.

Hazel watched the entire exchange with amusement as Sasha attempted to maintain an innocent expression while Alexander narrowed his eyes knowingly.

Finally, Sasha sighed dramatically and reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out his sleek black card.

"Fine," she muttered.

Alexander stepped closer to retrieve it, but the second he reached for the card, Sasha pulled it away with a grin.

"Absolutely not," he warned.

"Finders keepers."

"Sasha."

She laughed and tried holding onto it, but Alexander easily plucked the card from her fingers. The interaction wasn't harsh or controlling—it was playful, familiar, effortless.

Hazel found herself smiling softly as she watched them.

She had always admired their relationship.

For all of Alexander Roman's intimidating presence, there was a completely different side to him when it came to Sasha. Hazel had seen it countless times over the years. He could be cold, commanding, even terrifying when dealing with business associates, employees, or anyone who crossed him.

But the moment his daughter entered the room, everything about him changed.

His voice softened.

He smiled more.

The tension in his shoulders disappeared almost instantly, replaced by something warmer, gentler.

It was obvious to anyone watching that Sasha was the center of his world.

And honestly, Hazel thought that might be one of the most attractive things about him.

Anyway, we are going to the room. Call us down when you burn the place again, she yelled, already halfway up the stairs, making her way towards Hazel's room.