Francisco, after taking a deep breath, loosened his hands and took deliberate steps toward Hazel. His tone, laced with allure, cut through the charged air as he confronted her, "How dare you talk about a resignation letter?"
Hazel, her exhalation heavy with the weight of the moment, found herself ensnared in Francisco's alluring gaze. She hesitated for a moment, then spoke, "Mr. Francisco, I... I am afraid of rumors. It will affect our image. I hope you can understand what I am trying to say."
Clutching the edge of her nightie, Hazel tried to articulate the concerns that fueled her defiance. Francisco's eyes remained locked on hers.
Hazel!
I remember that night, and I know it was you.
However, before Francisco could delve further into his thoughts, Hazel's pragmatic words cut through the moment.
"Can you open the door?"
Francisco, after listening to Hazel's concerns about rumors, chose to maintain a stoic silence.
A decisive clap from Francisco, almost theatrical, saw the door yielding immediately, opening a path for Hazel's exit.
Undeterred, Francisco lit up a cigarette, the smoke curling around him as he pressed a button summoning a maid.
"Yes, master," the maid acknowledged with a respectful nod.
"Give her something appropriate to wear," Francisco ordered, his gaze still fixed on Hazel, who stood at a distance.
The maid responded promptly, "Yes."
Hazel, feeling the weight of Francisco's gaze, shifted her attention away from him and followed the maid. The scene unfolded with a sense of choreography, a play of power and control.
As Hazel departed, Francisco's eyes trailed along her figure, fixating on her long legs and waist. A deep breath escaped him, his thoughts revealing a possessiveness that transcended the physical.
I will never let you go from me because I finally found you.
**
Hazel found herself in yet another lavish room, adorned with opulent furnishings that echoed the grandeur of Francisco's mansion.
The maid, devoid of any expression, opened a closet, revealing an array of dresses.
Curiosity piqued, Hazel couldn't resist asking, "Who stays here?"
The maid's response, delivered in a robotic manner, provided little insight.
"No one," she replied tersely.
Hazel scrutinized the maid, her gaze traveling from top to bottom. Something about the maid's demeanor struck her as odd, but before she could delve deeper, the girl handed her a dress.
"Then this dress!"
"That's none of your business," the maid retorted, attempting to assist Hazel in changing.
Hazel, with an arched brow, stepped back, refusing the maid's help.
"What are you doing?"
She questioned the maid's intentions.
"I am helping you to dress," the maid stated matter-of-factly, continuing her approach.
Hazel, however, stood her ground, her tone growing stern.
"I can do it."
The maid halted, looking at Hazel in silence. After a brief moment, she retraced her steps towards the door. Just before closing it behind her, she left Hazel with a cryptic message, "Please do it quickly. Master doesn't like to be late."
The girl closed the door, and Hazel took a deep breath, sinking onto the bed. She covered her face with her hands, contemplating her next move.
What should I do now?
For a moment, I thought he had figured me out.
Hazel's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. The unsettling feeling of Francisco's inappropriate touch lingered in her thoughts.
I can't work with him anymore.
But...
Hazel hesitated, her mind torn between her discomfort and the necessity of finishing the job.
With determination, Hazel lowered her hands, clutching the bed-sheet tightly. Her expression shifted, revealing a stronger, more resolute version of herself.
He was touching me so weirdly.
Hazel acknowledged the inappropriate behavior but also acknowledged her own strength.
Despite her reservations, Hazel decided she couldn't let this incident deter her. She stood up and walked toward the mirror. Her face mirrored a mix of solemnity and strength, a departure from the innocent Hazel.
As she moved the nightie's strap from her shoulder, Hazel's gaze fell on the mark Francisco left on her collarbone the previous night.
While looking at her reflection, Hazel decided to pull her hair into a ponytail, a practical choice that emphasized her focus on the task at hand. After a moment, she dressed herself, choosing an outfit that radiated confidence.
Fully dressed and ready to face whatever was awaiting. Hazel assessed herself in the mirror.
I cannot go back until I finish it.
Hazel shifted her gaze with newfound confidence and walked purposefully toward the door.
Hazel observed Francisco from the second floor as he sat down for breakfast. Gathering her confidence, she descended the stairs, determined to address the situation.
Francisco, engrossed in his breakfast, didn't turn his head when he heard Hazel approaching. Instead, he cast a sidelong glance in her direction, acknowledging her presence.
Stopping beside him but maintaining a deliberate distance, Hazel spoke, "Sir, thank you for everything. I need to go home now." Her tone conveyed a hint of irritation.
Francisco continued to eat, showing no immediate response to her words. After finishing one piece of bread, he casually started spreading jelly on another.
"Come here," he finally said, breaking the silence.
Hazel, however, remained rooted in her place, neither responding nor moving closer.
Francisco lifted his gaze, meeting Hazel's eyes. There was a distinct contrast between their expressions. One set of eyes bore a stern, authoritative demeanor, unafraid of challenging her boss, while the other reflected a stubborn resolve.
"Won't you come here, or do I need to do something to bring you here?"
Francisco mused, lightly touching his chin with his finger as he crossed his legs. His gaze remained fixed on Hazel. Feeling the weight of his stare, Hazel lowered her gaze and, after a moment, finally stepped forward.
However, instead of sitting beside him, she chose a chair a little distance away. Francisco, unspoken sternness in his eyes, pressed his lips and focused on his plate.
A maid approached Hazel and began to serve her, following Francisco's unspoken orders. Despite clearly noticing the subtle signals, Hazel maintained her composure, not revealing her acknowledgment of the situation.
"Hazel!"
Francisco's voice broke the silence, prompting Hazel to look at him while she was still chewing her bread. His piercing blue eyes seemed to have an enchanting effect, captivating anyone who fell under his spell.