HIS FRAGILE OBSESSION

Chapter 10

"The room is secured, sir. No one knows you're up here."

The security guard’s low whisper faded down the carpeted hallway as the heavy mahogany doors of the penthouse suite closed with a soft, final click.

The silence inside the room was instant - heavy, thick, and suffocating intimate.

Hazel stood near the entrance, her small hands clutching her leather handbag so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The suite was dimly lit by warm floor lamps, with massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows offering a sweeping, panoramic view of the city skyline below.

Nicholas unbuttoned his tailored tuxedo jacket with effortless grace, tossing it onto the dark leather armchair. He unzipped his cufflinks and rolled his crisp white sleeves up to his forearms, exposing the thick veins, fair skin, and muscular flex of his arms.

His dark, impenetrable gaze landed directly on her.

"The bathroom is right through those double doors," Nicholas said, his deep baritone dropping into a quiet, velvet roughness that sent a sudden, fluttering warmth straight to her stomach. "Go take off that stained gown."

Hazel swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry under his heavy gaze. "Thank you, sir."

Hurrying into the vast marble bathroom, she locked the door behind her. Her heart was hammering violently against her ribs. Taking a deep breath, she unzipped the heavy charcoal gown, letting the damp, wine-stained silk slide down her body to her bare feet.

On the vanity hook hung a plush, pure white hotel bathrobe. Having no other choice, she slipped her bare arms into the soft fabric, wrapping it around her body and tying the satin sash tightly around her slender waist.

She looked at her reflection in the glowing vanity mirror. Her dark hair fell over her bare shoulders in wild waves, and the soft white bathrobe hugged her curves, leaving her delicate neck and collarbones completely bare.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Hazel turned the doorknob and stepped back out into the dimly lit bedroom.

"Sir...?" Hazel stammered, her voice soft and hesitant as she kept a nervous distance near the door frame. "The... the clothes... did the driver bring them?"

Nicholas was standing near the center of the room. He had unbuttoned his white shirt at the throat, revealing the strong, tanned lines of his collarbones and chest. Hearing her voice, he turned around slowly.

His dark eyes locked onto her, scanning her with agonizing slowness from her flushed cheeks, down her bare throat, to where the white bathrobe tied at her small waist, all the way down to her bare ankles.

He didn't answer. Instead, he took a slow, heavy step toward her. Then another.

Hazel stepped back instinctively until her spine hit the cool, closed wooden door. "Sir...?"

Nicholas closed the remaining distance in two silent, powerful strides. He slammed his broad, warm palm onto the wooden door frame right beside her head, trapping her completely in his tall shadow. The overwhelming scent of his woodsy cologne, warm skin, and expensive whiskey flooded her senses, making her dizzy.

"Clothes?" Nicholas murmured, leaning down until his voice dropped into a dangerously dark, gravelly whisper near her ear. "Do you really think I need to order other clothes for you, Hazel?"

Hazel’s breath hitched in her throat, her chest rising and falling against the soft fabric of her robe. "Sir?"

"Look at you," Nicholas interrupted softly, his dark eyes burning into hers with raw, unshadowed hunger. "Do you have any idea how intoxicating you look in this white robe? Extremely hot. Infinitely dangerous."

Hazel’s cheeks burned hot, her chest heaving as she panted softly. "You... you shouldn't say things like that and that too to your secretary."

"I haven't been able to take my eyes off you all night in the event," Nicholas whispered, leaning down until his hot breath brushed the sensitive, exposed skin right under her earlobe. "To be honest, in that ballroom, among hundreds of people... all I could think about was getting you."

A sharp, audible gasp escaped Hazel’s lips as his lips lightly grazed her sensitive skin, sending an electric shock straight down her spine. "Mr. Vance..."

Nicholas stopped. His dark eyes softened just a fraction, a quiet, intense warmth replacing the cold glare he usually wore for the rest of the world.

"Mr. Vance?" he growled softly, his broad, calloused fingers reaching up to slowly trail down her flushed cheek, tracing her jawline before resting his thumb directly over the wildly pulsing artery on her neck.

He leaned down until his breath brushed against the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe, his voice dropping into a low, intimate whisper.

"You don't have to call me that when we're alone, Hazel," Nicholas whispered, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an irresistible intensity. "The world calls me Mr. Vance. But you... you can call me Nicholas."

Hazel’s chest heaved, a sudden wave of nervousness crashing over with an intoxicating warmth inside her.

Her breath hitched as she looked up into his deep, hypnotic gaze. A part of her wanted to step back, to push him away, to keep her distance from a man as powerful and intimidating as Nicholas Vance, who was giving her so much attention, treating her like someone precious. It frightened her to feel so small and vulnerable under his immense presence.

And yet, her body was betraying her every instinct.

The heat radiating from his massive chest, the delicious, woodsy scent of his cologne, and the hypnotic rhythm of his thumb gently stroking her neck were completely drugging her senses. Every place his skin touched hers felt like liquid fire, a sweet, addictive pleasure that made her head light and her knees weak. She didn't just feel safe; she felt utterly captivated, completely seduced by the dark, velvet warmth of his touch.

"I... I shouldn't, sir... we shouldn't do this," Hazel whispered, her voice breathy, trembling with a mix of shyness, fear, and undeniable desire. "It doesn't feel right... for a secretary."

Nicholas’s gaze darkened with a quiet, fierce intensity. "I didn't ask my secretary, Hazel," he growled softly, leaning in until their lips were practically brushing, his hot breath fanning across her parted mouth. "I asked you, and you shouldn't call me Mr. Vance then."

The last piece of her control completely melted away under his seductive spell.

"Nicholas..." she breathed out, her voice a heavy, intoxicating sigh. Her small, trembling hands reached up, her fingers slowly winding into the crisp fabric of his shirt near his chest, no longer trying to hold him back, but pulling him closer as she completely surrendered to his heat.

Nicholas leaned down, his dark, hypnotic eyes burning into her parted, soft lips. The agonizing millimeter of distance between them evaporated until their lips were practically brushing, close enough that every shallow, shuddering breath she let out fanned straight against his lips.

His broad, calloused hand slid up to cradle the back of her delicate neck, his long fingers tangling into the soft waves of her hair. The agonizing, electric friction of almost-touching was driving her out. With slow, possessive pressure, his thumb tilted her chin up just a fraction more. Hazel’s eyes fluttered half-closed, her body shivering under the overwhelming wave of raw desire as she subconsciously arched her neck, silently begging him to close the final agonizing gap between their lips.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The sudden, loud rapping against the heavy mahogany door shattered the suffocating, heat-drenched air like breaking glass.

Hazel gasped, her eyes snapping open in panic as she pushed lightly against his broad chest. Nicholas didn't budge an inch. He remained pinned against her, his towering frame locking her in place like an immovable force.

His dark eyes flashed with pure, dangerous frustration. A low, heavy groan rumbled deep in his chest, his jaw clenching so hard that a muscle twitched on his cheek. His breath was fast, hot, and heavy against her flushed face.

Knock! Knock!

"Mr. Vance, sir? It's the driver. I have Ms. Sterling's spare clothes," the security guard's voice echoed through the thick door, completely unaware of the intense heat he had just ruined.

Nicholas closed his eyes for a brief second. His chest rose and fell against hers as he took a slow, deep breath, fighting hard to control the wild, dark pulse raging inside him.

Slowly and reluctantly, his fingers slipped out of her hair. He dragged his thumb one last time over the sensitive skin of her jawline before stepping back, granting Hazel a sudden, cold rush of air without pushing his warm body against hers.

"Stay here," Nicholas commanded, his voice dark, low, and rough with desire.

He walked over to the door, unlatching the lock and opening it just a few inches. The driver stood there in the quiet hallway, holding a neat garment bag and a pair of flat shoes.

"The clothes, sir," the driver said respectfully, handing them over. "Also, head security wanted me to inform you that the paparazzi outside are clearing out, but Mr. Julian requested a brief call with you regarding tomorrow's early morning briefing whenever you're free."

"Okay, I will check that out," Nicholas replied coldly, taking the bag and shutting the door right in the driver's face before another word could be said.

He walked back into the dimly lit bedroom, the heavy fabric of the garment bag rustling as he set it on the edge of the large bed.

Hazel stood near the bathroom, her face burning crimson, her small fingers tightly holding the lapels of her white bathrobe together. The atmosphere in the room was still thick with lingering, unspoken heat.

Nicholas turned around to look at her. His shirt was still unbuttoned at his throat, his dark hair slightly messy, and his eyes burned into hers with an unspoken, heavy desire that made her knees feel weak.

"Your clothes are here," Nicholas said quietly.

His voice was low, smooth, and steady, yet it carried a deep, trembling undercurrent that sent a sweet, intoxicating shiver straight down her spine.

Hazel looked at the bag on the bed, then lifted her eyes to meet his dark, heavy gaze. "Thank you, sir... I'll... I'll go change inside the bathroom."

She took a slow step forward to pick up the garment bag. As her small, trembling fingers brushed against the fabric, Nicholas stood frozen just inches away. His close proximity was intoxicating, the heat radiating off his body and wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

Inside his mind, every possessive, dark instinct was screaming at him to reach out, to snatch the bag out of her hands, and to forbid her from hiding her body behind those clothes. He wanted to pull her back against his chest until she couldn't breathe, to peel that white bathrobe off her bare shoulders right here, right now.

He fought his own restraint, his broad hands clenching into tight fists at his sides as he stood motionless, trying to resist the urge.

"I'll be right back," Hazel whispered softly, her voice shaking slightly under his intense gaze.

She picked up the bag and turned toward the bathroom.

She stepped into the quiet marble bathroom, but the moment her fingers touched the heavy door, a sudden, breathless ache kept her from shutting it. Her heart pounded violently against her chest, her entire body still burning with the memory of his hands.

Outside, Nicholas stared at the closing door.

He took deep, heavy breaths as he tried to control himself. Minute after minute passed in agonizing silence. He fought every urge to run after her, but the distance between them felt torturous, the thought of her soft, bare ankles slipping away from him tore through his sanity.

He couldn't resist any longer. He couldn't stop himself.

Breaking his remaining restraint, Nicholas took three swift, silent strides across the bedroom, placed his broad palm flat against the bathroom door and pushed it wide open…