Chapter 5 5. The Vicious Cycle

Hazel's fingers lingered on the door handle for a split second longer than necessary, the soft click of the latch echoing in the vast office like a final surrender. She turned, her blue eyes meeting his across the room and felt her pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. Michele leaned back in his leather chair. His sharp and predatory eyes traced the sway of her hips as she stepped forward, each movement a reminder of how he'd gripped those cheeks while pounding into her from behind.

"Take a seat, Ms. Thomas," Michele commanded, gesturing to the plush chair opposite his desk.

Hazel hesitated. She straightened her posture to emphasize the professional barrier she desperately wanted to maintain. "Thank you, Mr. Richardson, but I can stand. I'd prefer to review the agenda quickly and get started on my tasks. Efficiency is key, after all." Her tone was crisp, laced with poise, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

Michele's chuckle was deep, resonant, sending a shiver racing down her spine. He didn't break the eye contact, his fingers drumming slowly on the desk, each tap drawing her gaze to the large hands that had pinned her wrists above her head, spreading her legs wide as he devoured her pussy with his tongue. 

"Sit," he repeated, the word firmer now, his eyes darkening with that unyielding authority that made her knees weaken. "We have much to discuss and I insist on comfort or do you plan to challenge me on your first day?"

She swallowed hard, her throat dry, the professional facade cracking under the intensity of his stare. How could she deny him when every fiber of her being screamed to obey, to drop to her knees instead and crawl across the carpet? With a reluctant nod, Hazel lowered herself into the chair.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise slipping out like velvet, laced with a sexy undertone that made her clit throb. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Now, let's get acquainted properly. I like to know my assistants inside and out."

Hazel shifted, her hands clasping in her lap to hide their tremble. "I'm here to work, Mr. Richardson. Whatever you need scheduled or organized, "

"Oh, I know exactly what you need," he interrupted smoothly, pulling a slim file from his drawer and sliding it across the polished wood. But he didn't open it yet, instead fixing her with a knowing look. "Your parents, for instance. Tragic, what happened to them in that car accident fifteen years ago, left you alone at eight, then grew up at orphanage. Onve turned eighteen, you were removed from there as well, after that scraping by on scholarships and part-time jobs to finish your business degree at State University. Top of your class in marketing, yet here you are, starting over after personal setbacks."

Her breath caught, eyes widening in shock as she stared at him. How? The details poured from his lips like he'd lived them. "How do you… It’s none of your concern."

He continued undeterred, his voice steady as if sharing secrets in the dark. "And your life since? Dating Max for three years, building dreams around a wedding that’s not gonna take place ever. Because he shattered it all, didn't he? Cheating with his best friend, Alex. Heartbreaking and now, the notice, five days to vacate your flat, no new place lined up yet. Rent hikes in this city are brutal, especially for someone..."

Hazel's world tilted, her face paling as the words hit like punches. The betrayal burned fresh, walking in on Max and Alex. "This is insane," she whispered, her voice breaking, hands gripping the armrests until her knuckles whitened. Surprise twisted into fury, her chest heaving. "Digging into my life like some creep? You've been stalking me or what?"

Michele watched her reaction with calm satisfaction, his expression unchanging, but a flicker of heat in his eyes betrayed the erotic undercurrent, the way her distress made her lips part, her body arch slightly in the chair, as if offering itself up despite her words. 

"What do you want from me? And why pry this deep into a random employee's life? It's invasive and unethical," she muttered, gritting her teeth.

His smirk returned slowly and sinfully, lips curling to reveal a flash of teeth as he leaned closer, the desk the only barrier between them. "Random? Oh, Hazel, you're far from random. You should know that after last night. The way you wrapped those pretty lips around my cock in that hotel room, sucking me deep until I hit the back of your throat, gagging but begging for more. Your pussy clenching around me as I fucked you senseless, your ass bouncing against my hips while you screamed for more. That wasn't random, that was fate delivering you to me."

She recoiled, taken aback by the raw directness, his words painting the scene in vivid strokes that flooded her with heat. His expression was pure dominance, eyes hooded with lust, jaw set in unapologetic hunger, but she forced steel into her voice. "Stop. Just... come to the point, Mr. Richardson. What is this really about?"

He straightened, the moment of sexy candor shifting back to calculated control, though the air hummed with unresolved tension. Reaching into another drawer, he withdrew a thick folder bound in leather, embossed with the company logo and pushed it toward her. The motion was deliberate, his fingers brushing hers as she took it, sending sparks up her arm straight to her breasts. 

"You need to sign the contract as per company policy for executive assistants. Read it carefully, Ms. Thomas. Because every clause matters."

Hazel's fingers trembled as she flipped it open, scanning the dense legalese. At first, it seemed standard, non-disclosure, loyalty oaths, overtime expectations. But as she delved deeper, her frown deepened, brows knitting together in confusion and rising alarm. Her heart hammered, slithering through the text as she read the entire contract.

"Mr. Richardson?" she said finally, her voice sharp, lifting her head to pin him with narrowed eyes.

He didn't look up immediately, feigning absorption in his laptop screen, fingers tapping keys with deliberate slowness, the muscles in his forearms flexing. "Any doubt, Ms. Thomas?" His tone was casual, almost bored, but the underlying smirk in his voice hinted at the game he was playing, drawing her deeper into his web.