In the office, Hazel tried her best to avoid any contact with Francisco, determined to maintain a professional distance. Francisco, keenly aware of her efforts, chose not to comment, allowing a silent understanding to settle between them.
As the day progressed and evening approached, Hazel observed Francisco leaving his office earlier than usual. Hazel focused on organizing files within the cabin, ensuring everything was in order before leaving. When the clock signaled the end of the workday, she swiftly gathered her belongings and made her way towards the exit.
Standing outside the office building, Hazel intended to hail a taxi for her commute home. However, her plans took an unexpected turn when she noticed Francisco's car pulling up in front of her. The guard promptly opened the gate, and there sat Francisco in the driver's seat, seemingly lost in thought.
Summoning her courage, Hazel approached the car and leaned in, addressing him politely, "Mr. Francisco!"
He turned his gaze toward her, and Hazel continued, "I can go home tonight."
Francisco shifted his gaze to Hazel, seemingly unfazed by her statement. Instead, he suggested, "I thought I would have dinner with you."
Hazel, caught off guard by the unexpected invitation, managed to maintain her composure and offered an awkward smile as she joined him in the car.
As the vehicle came to a stop in front of Hazel's apartment, both stepped out of the car, heading towards the entrance. Unbeknownst to them, another car lurked in the shadows, a person discreetly observing Hazel's movements.
Once inside her apartment, Hazel gestured towards the living area, her neat and clean space inviting Francisco to make himself comfortable.
She smiled at him and said, "Please, sir, have a seat. I'll do something after changing."
As Hazel left the room to freshen up, Francisco remained seated, his gaze following her departing figure.
Francisco looked around with a calm face; it seemed he was checking her dining room so closely. While taking a look, he came near the window and pulled the curtain to see outside. Then he tucked his sleeves.
Hazel swiftly changed into more casual attire — shorts and a crop top — as she anticipated Francisco's return to the dining room. Her steps quickened as she made her way to the familiar setting, but confusion clouded her expression as she found the room empty. Francisco was nowhere to be seen.
What?
Has he left?
Just as her worry began to escalate, a waft of something savory reached her nose. The aroma hung in the air, leading her toward the source – the kitchen once again. This time, however, it wasn't empty.
Francisco stood by the stove, an apron tied around his waist, and a skillet sizzling with an array of colorful vegetables. The scene was so unexpected that Hazel's confusion deepened.
Hazel, wearing a look of both surprise and confusion, couldn't help but ask, "Mr. Francisco, what are you doing?"
Without diverting his attention from the cooking, Francisco calmly responded, "I am trying to cook."
Hazel's eyes widened at the sight of her boss taking over her kitchen. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to react.
Hazel, feeling a bit flustered by Francisco's unexpected culinary initiative, protested, "But you don't need to do this. You are my guest."
Francisco, with a pan holder in hand and an apron that somehow managed to make him look even more appealing, turned his intense blue eyes toward her. Ignoring her objection, he dipped his index finger into the simmering curry and provocatively presented it to Hazel, commanding, "Taste it."
Caught off guard, Hazel hesitated.
Yet, the unwavering determination in Francisco's gaze hinted that he wouldn't retract his finger until she complied. Gathering her courage, Hazel tentatively touched her tongue to his outstretched index.
With a subtle nod and a nervous smile, she admitted, "Yes, it tastes good."
A smirk played on Francisco's lips, and, in a sudden and bold move, he brought his index finger to his own mouth, sensually sucking on the spot where Hazel's tongue had just grazed.
Hazel, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the unexpected intimacy, swiftly averted her gaze and redirected her attention to the task of hand – cutting onions.
"Yeah, it's not bad," Francisco remarked after tasting the curry.
Hazel, heartened by his positive response, offered a light smile and attempted to lighten the mood, saying, "I didn't know you could cook, Mr. Francisco. It's astounding."
A subtle glint of mystery crossed Francisco's eyes as he responded, "You will be more surprised if you know me more."
Intrigued, Hazel inquired, "What?" eager to unravel the enigma that surrounded her boss.
Francisco locked his gaze onto hers and said, "I am looking forward to tasting your food, Hazel."
Hazel chuckled, "But I am not fond of cooking. I eat whatever I cook."
Francisco, still focused on the culinary task at hand, asked, "Then why don't you take your parents here?"
Hazel sighed, her expression carrying a hint of melancholy.
"My papa has his job, so it would be difficult for him. I thought I would stay here alone."
With a curious arch of his eyebrow, Francisco asked, "You said you shared your apartment with friends. Where are they?"
As Francisco deftly flipped a pancake in the pan, Hazel hesitated for a moment before responding, "They went to their city. So I have been living alone for some days."
Francisco turned off the stove, signaling the completion of their cooking venture. He observed Hazel, who was engrossed in checking the taste of her curry. As she was about to taste the gravy, Francisco, in a surprising move, held her hand, interrupting her action.
Hazel looked at him, eyes widening in astonishment, as Francisco locked his gaze onto hers. Without a word, he took her index finger, coated with the curry, into his mouth.
The unexpected gesture sent a wave of sensations through Hazel — her heart racing, a cold shiver down her spine. She attempted to pull her hand away, but Francisco continued to suck on her finger, his gaze unwavering.
"Mr. Francisco… I," Hazel stammered, her voice barely audible over the unexpected intimacy.
Finally releasing her finger, Francisco calmly remarked, "It tastes good."
Flustered, Hazel managed a hesitation, "Ah… thanks. Let's start eating."
Not dwelling on the moment, Hazel swiftly took the tray, and Francisco, with a mysterious smile, followed her from behind as they headed to the dining area.
After enjoying dinner together, the time had come for Francisco to leave. Standing by the door, he glanced at Hazel while holding his coat. Hazel, expressing her gratitude with a smile, said, "Thank you for dining with me, Mr. Francisco."
"Be careful on the road."
Francisco nodded, and as Hazel bid him good night, he added a piece of advice, "Good night, Hazel."
"And lock the door and windows before you go to sleep."
A smile accompanied his words.
Returning the smile, Hazel slowly closed the door behind her. Unbeknownst to her, Francisco remained standing outside until he heard the distinct sound of the door being securely locked.
As the door closed, a subtle shift occurred in Francisco's demeanor. He retrieved a cigarette, lighting it up in the quiet of the night. The weight of concern weighed on him – bringing Hazel to the party had potentially exposed her to his enemies, and he felt the need to exercise caution to ensure her safety.
In the solitude outside Hazel's apartment, he contemplates the potential risks and ramifications of his choices.
As Francisco approached his car, he noticed something peculiar on another vehicle, causing him to narrow his eyes in suspicion.
Meanwhile, after Francisco's departure, Hazel took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings. Seated on her bed, she contemplated the recent events, realizing the need for increased vigilance.
I need to be more careful.
Just as she moved to lock the window, a sudden intrusion startled her. A man forcefully pushed the Thai glass, leaping into Hazel's space. Expressing her surprise with a sharp exclamation, Hazel found herself grabbed by the shoulders and forcefully pushed onto the bed.
"What the hell?"
Reacting swiftly, Hazel seized the opportunity to defend herself. With a skillful move, she grabbed the intruder's arms and flipped him onto the bed. Straddling the subdued figure, she retrieved a knife from under her pillow and positioned it against the intruder's throat.
Intriguingly, the person was fully concealed in black attire, wearing a black mask. Hazel, gasping, demanded, "Who are you?"
Her eyes widened as she gradually unveiled the person's face, exclaiming.
"You?"