HIS FRAGILE OBSESSION

Episode 8

The heavy door of Nicholas’s private cabin clicked shut behind them.

Hazel stood near the entrance, her heart beating fast against her ribs. She nervously adjusted her handbag strap, looking around the vast, quiet office.

"Hazel. In here," Nicholas’s deep voice echoed from the far corner of his suite.

Hazel blinked, noticing a concealed double door she hadn't paid attention to before. It was slightly ajar, warm ambient light spilling out onto the polished wooden floor.

Her breath hitched in her throat. His private attached suite...?

A sudden wave of nervous heat washed over her. Why was he calling her into his private room? Just the two of them, isolated from the rest of the corporate world? Stepping carefully, her heels clicking softly against the marble, she pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.

Her jaw nearly dropped.

The room was as grand as a penthouse suite, a massive king-sized bed, sleek dark furniture, soft warm lighting, and a walk-in wardrobe lined with dozens of custom-tailored suits, luxury watches, and designer shoes.

Nicholas stood near the mirrored wardrobe, his suit jacket already removed. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the strong, muscular lines of his throat, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Hazel quickly lowered her gaze, her cheeks burning hot. "S-Sir? You called for me?"

Nicholas turned around slowly, holding two different suit jackets in his hands, one deep charcoal, the other midnight black.

"Which one looks better?" Nicholas asked smoothly, his dark eyes locking onto hers as if asking her opinion was the most natural thing in the world.

Hazel froze, completely taken aback. "Um... Sir, you are a powerful billionaire. Whatever you wear looks effortless."

A subtle, breathtaking smirk touched Nicholas’s sharp lips. He tossed both jackets onto the leather armchair and walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps. The sheer size of his presence made the spacious room feel instantly smaller, suffocatingly close.

"I need to know which one matches you," Nicholas murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, velvet baritone. "It looks better when we step out in matching colors."

Hazel’s heart slammed against her ribs. "Sir... I told you, I can't attend the gala..."

"I don't remember asking for your permission, Hazel," Nicholas interrupted softly, stopping just an inch away from her. "I am your boss, and these are my orders."

Hazel swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat.

"Tell me," Nicholas continued, his dark eyes burning into hers with an intensity that made her knees weak. "If I give you a gift...

would you take it badly?"

"I... I don't know what to say, sir," Hazel whispered, her cheeks flushing crimson.

Without another word, Nicholas turned and opened a private, mirrored section of his wardrobe.

Hazel gasped softly, her eyes widening in pure wonder.

Hanging inside was an exquisitely crafted, deep charcoal black gown. The rich silk fabric shimmered under the warm lights, with delicate lace detailing along the waist and a soft, flowing silhouette. It looked like something straight out of a royal fairytale.

"It's... it's breathtaking," Hazel breathed out, unable to take her eyes off it. "Whose dress is this, sir?"

"Right now? It looks ordinary," Nicholas murmured, stepping right behind her, so his warm breath brushed the sensitive skin behind her ear. "It will only look truly beautiful once you wear it."

Hazel flinched softly at the closeness, a shiver running straight down her spine. "Sir, no... I can't accept something this expensive. I really can't"

Before she could step away, Nicholas reached out. His broad, warm fingers gently wrapped around her right wrist, right over her delicate bruise. His touch was firm yet unbelievably tender, sending a sharp electric charge straight through her body.

"Consider it another order," Nicholas said softly, his dark eyes burning into hers. "You are coming with me tonight. And you are wearing this."

Hazel looked from his intense eyes down to his hand holding her wrist. She knew she had no choice left. A quiet warmth bloomed in her chest despite her lingering fears.

"Okay..." she whispered softly. "I'll wear it."

A faint, satisfied smile graced Nicholas’s lips. He let go of her wrist.

"Don't bother going back to your apartment," Nicholas said, checking his gold wristwatch. "It's already late, and driving back and forth in city traffic will only tire you out. Get ready here. Everything you need is inside."

A faint, satisfied smile graced Nicholas’s lips.

Hazel closed the marble bathroom door behind her and let out a long, shaky breath.

The bathroom felt like a high-end spa. The air carried a faint, luxurious scent of fresh orchids and sweet vanilla. On the marble vanity lay expensive skincare products, crystal hair accessories, and a glowing light mirror.

Taking off her corporate blazer, Hazel stepped into the shower.

Ten minutes later, Hazel stepped out of the marble bathroom, a plush white bathrobe wrapped tightly around her wet, fragrant skin. The scent of sweet vanilla and fresh steam clung to her body as her bare feet stepped onto the soft plush carpet of the bedroom suite.

Taking a deep breath, Hazel stood near the large full-length mirror inside the suite. She unhooked the hanger and slipped into the charcoal black silk gown. The moment the cool silk slid over her skin, it felt like a second skin, hugging her slender waist perfectly before cascading down her hips in a smooth, elegant sweep. The dark charcoal color complemented her fair skin contrastingly, making her look both dangerous and breathtakingly soft.

Sitting down at the vanity table inside the room, she dried her hair into soft, cascading waves that tumbled over her shoulders. She added a touch of glowing makeup, a soft rosy tint to her cheeks, and a deep berry lipstick that made her lips look full and delicate.

She looked in the mirror, barely recognizing the stunning woman staring back at her.

"Hazel? Are you ready?" Nicholas’s deep voice echoed from the main suite outside.

"Almost, sir!" Hazel called out.

She gathered her clutch, but as she picked it up, her eyes caught her right wrist in the mirror. The purplish bruise stood out harshly against her pale skin and the dark dress. Panic flared instantly in her chest. What if someone notices? What if this creates a bad impression of Nicholas on his businessman friends?

Her gaze darted to her handbag on the counter. Inside lay the sleek black box she had received in the lobby earlier.

With shaking hands, she pulled out the pure white silk scarf. It was small, soft, and lightweight, not meant for her neck, but perfect for her wrist. Although she didn't want to wear it, but it was the only way to cover the mark. Carefully, she wrapped the pure white silk around her right wrist, tying it into a tight, elegant cuff wrap. It hid the ugly mark completely, looking like a deliberate, sophisticated fashion accessory against her charcoal gown.

Her look was finally complete - glamorous, dark, and mysterious.

Taking a deep breath, Hazel opened the suite door and stepped out.

Nicholas was standing near his mahogany desk, fully dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, adjusting his cuff links. Hearing the door, he turned around, and completely froze.

The room fell into a dead, breathless silence.

Nicholas stared at her, his dark, impenetrable eyes scanning every inch of her glowing face, her bare shoulders, her soft curves and the deep charcoal gown that mirrored his own attire. For the first time since she met him, the cold, ruthless billionaire looked completely mesmerized, his breath catching in his throat.

Hazel flushed under his intense, heavy gaze, her fingers lightly touching her silk-wrapped wrist. "Sir...? Is... is everything okay? Does it look strange?"

Nicholas didn't answer right away. He moved.

In slow, powerful strides, he closed the distance between them. Before Hazel could step back, his broad, warm hand gently wrapped around her small waist, pulling her an inch closer to his chest. The intoxicating scent of his woodsy cologne wrapped around her senses, making her head spin.

"You look..." Nicholas murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerously low, seductive roughness as his eyes lingered on her lips, "...absolutely breathtaking."

Hazel’s heart hammered violently against her ribs. Her breath hitched as his thumb gently brushed against the side of her cheek, his touch sending a wave of fiery heat straight through her veins.

His eyes briefly flicked down to her right wrist, noticing the elegant white silk wrap covering her bruise, before locking back onto her eyes with a dark, unreadable intensity.

Knock! Knock!

"Mr. Vance, sir?" a senior manager’s voice called out from behind the main office doors. "The private car is ready. It's time to leave for the gala."

The spell shattered.

Nicholas let out a quiet, heavy breath, his hand lingering on her waist for a second longer before slowly letting go. He adjusted his cuff links, his calm, commanding mask slipping back into place.

"Let's go, Hazel," Nicholas said, offering her his arm.

Hazel placed her hand gently over his arm, feeling the solid, protective heat of his body beside her as they walked out toward the

private elevators.

Twenty minutes later, the sleek black Maybach glided smoothly through the bustling city streets.

Inside the tinted interior of the car, the silence was heavy and thick with unsaid emotions. Hazel sat close to the window, watching the bright city lights blur past, her fingers continuously touching the white silk wrapped around her wrist. Beside her, Nicholas sat quietly, his long legs crossed, his dark gaze occasionally flicking toward her anxious face.

The car slowly came to a stop in front of the Grand Regent Hotel.

Outside, a red carpet stretched toward the grand entrance. Dozens of luxury cars were lined up, and the air was filled with the flashing lights of news cameras and the loud chatter of high-society guests.

The driver quickly jogged around and pulled open the rear door on Nicholas’s side.

Nicholas stepped out first. The moment his tall, imposing figure hit the pavement, camera flashes erupted like lightning, reporters calling out his name. He adjusted his dark suit, completely ignoring the noise as he walked around the back of the car to Hazel’s side.

Instead of letting the driver handle it, Nicholas opened the door himself.

He leaned down slightly, extending his broad, warm palm toward her.

Hazel looked at his offered hand, her pulse hammering in her ears. Taking a deep breath, she placed her small hand into his. His fingers instantly closed around hers, warm, strong, and steadying.

Nicholas helped her step out of the car. The moment Hazel’s heels touched the red carpet in her shimmering charcoal gown, the bright camera flashes, the loud shouting of the reporters, and the sea of high-society elites staring at her made her breath catch in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her knees feeling a little weak under the heavy gown.

Noticing the subtle tremble in her posture, Nicholas tilted his head down slightly, offering his bent arm.

Hazel hesitantly looped her arm through his. The moment her hand rested over his arm, Nicholas brought his broad, warm palm over her small hand, gently squeezing her fingers. His touch was firm, steady, and grounding, a quiet promise that she was completely safe beside him.

"Look straight ahead, Haze," Nicholas murmured softly, his deep voice cutting through the chaotic noise around them. "You belong right here."

A sudden wave of warmth washed over her fear. Hazel looked up into his dark, unwavering gaze and gave a quiet, resolute nod. Her grip on his arm tightened just a fraction, drawing strength from his towering presence.

Together, side by side, they turned toward the grand mahogany doors and walked into the gala.