Hazel finished her dinner alone. Francisco never emerged from his room.

An hour passed.

Her curiosity deepened when she noticed a maid walking toward his door with quiet urgency. Hazel arched a brow.

Should I talk to him?

But how? If he doesn’t open the door…

Still thinking, she returned to her room, clutching the book tightly. After locking the door, she let out a sharp sigh and sank onto the bed.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “I need to do something. But what?”

She opened the ...