~Sunshine~

After a few minutes, Francisco shut his eyes and began gagging Emily's mouth. He immediately reached his climax and filled Emily's mouth. After that, he pushed Emily forward, gripping her hair.

She plopped down on the floor, licked her lips, and said, "How rude!"

Francisco cleaned himself up, keeping his distance from Emily. As he reached for a towel, Emily turned on the shower and moved closer to him.

"When will you show affection again?" she asked, her voice filled with longing.

Francisco answered while grabbing the towel, but in an irritating manner, "Go f*** yourself."

He left the bathroom, leaving Emily to stare after him, her desire unfulfilled. She muttered softly, "I'll wait for as long as it takes, Francis."

Francisco put on a robe and made his way to the balcony of his luxurious palace. The night air embraced him as he lit a cigarette, its embers casting a faint, fiery glow on his rugged features. His strong jaw was set in contemplation as he peered out over the sprawling city below.

He inhaled deeply, the smoke filling his lungs, and then exhaled a slow, smoky sigh. Francisco's thoughts were miles away from his opulent surroundings, his mind consumed by the memory of those haunting hazel-green eyes, a girl, that had left an indelible mark on his soul.

In his own private thoughts, 'I was taken aback to see you again. I can't be sure if I'm right or wrong, but I remember those eyes. They were like a rare gem in the midst of chaos. Your hair was shorter back then, but something about you feels unmistakably familiar.'

As Francisco stood on the balcony, lost in his thoughts of that mysterious hazel-eyed girl, he took the cigarette to his lips and took a quick, absentminded drag. The cityscape sprawled out before him, but his focus remained on the enigmatic memories that had resurfaced.

It was then that Emily's voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. She questioned him with playful curiosity, "What are you thinking?"

Francisco took a moment to respond, his gaze still lingering on the distant horizon. "Nothing," he replied tersely.

Emily giggled, a sultry undertone in her laughter. "Are you trying to trick me? Francis, you can fool everyone, but not me."

She made a move to touch him, but he swiftly turned, fixing her with a stern expression. "I don't like it when someone touches me without my permission."

Emily stepped back, retracting her hand, as Francisco's stern words hung in the air. It was a familiar scenario for her, one where he pushed her away whenever she attempted to bridge the emotional gap between them. He kept her at arm's length, and yet she persisted, her resolve unyielding.

Their complicated connection was known to the world, but the nature of their relationship remained shrouded in secrecy. Francisco hadn't openly supported her career, yet her rise to supermodel stardom was inevitably linked to his influence. It was a double-edged sword, with public perception casting her as a woman of power and intrigue due to her association with the enigmatic gangster king.

Emily's unwavering determination to stay in Francisco's life stemmed from her deep-seated desire not to lose him. Their connection, though unconventional and fraught with complexities, was something she couldn't let go of. Perhaps it was the allure of the mysterious, powerful man or the thrill of being close to danger. Whatever it was, Emily was resolute in her pursuit of the enigmatic Francisco.

**

In the shadowy depths of a hidden torture cell, agonizing screams pierced the air, unsettling the serene surroundings of Francisco's mansion. These tormenting cries resonated from a modest cottage nestled in the dense woods behind the grand estate, muffled only by the thick forest that concealed the nefarious activities taking place within.

The little cottage, an obscure and sinister chamber of horrors, bore witness to the ongoing torment. Its walls held secrets that would never be spoken, safeguarding the painful echoes of suffering within. The surrounding woods, with their dense canopy of trees, hid this dark chapter of Francisco's domain from the world.

[Screaming]

Inside the grim interior of the cottage, a stark scene unfolded. Max sat in front of a man, his cold eyes filled with determination. Max was known for his relentless interrogations and his unwavering quest for information.

Two men flanked Max, their menacing presence amplified by the thorny whip blades they wielded. These instruments of torture glistened in the dim light, their malevolent purpose clear. They knew no mercy, only obedience to the orders they received.

A cruel hand seized the hair of the man before them, forcing his tearful gaze upwards to meet his tormentors. It was none other than Bruce, the man at the center of this torment. Bruce's cries of anguish echoed through the cottage, intertwining with the pained whispers of a dark and malevolent interrogation.

In the heart of the woods, away from the prying eyes of the world, a chilling dance of cruelty and coercion unfolded.

Bruce's battered and bruised body bore the marks of unrelenting violence, each wound a testament to the cruelty of his captors. Blood flowed freely from his nose, mingling with the dirt and sweat that covered him.

The scene was chaotic, a cacophony of pain and suffering. Bruce's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, his tormentors driven by a relentless determination to extract the information they sought. The doctor, ever at Francisco's disposal, did his best to tend to Bruce's injured leg. It was a futile attempt to alleviate some of the suffering, as they knew the torment would continue.

Once the doctor had done what he could, Bruce was thrust back into the merciless clutches of his captors. They had a sadistic routine, one that they had perfected through countless acts of brutality. Bruce, weakened and disoriented, could only brace himself for the impending onslaught.

Max, known for his brutality in interrogations, took the lead. With a vicious strike, he aimed for Bruce's already battered face. The impact was savage, causing blood to spurt from Bruce's mouth. Each blow served as a chilling reminder of the power these men wielded and their complete disregard for human suffering.

To be continued.