The car ride home from the party was quiet. The atmosphere hung heavy with unspoken tension.
Hazel sat by the window, dressed in a light pink dress that ended just above her knees. Her makeup was soft, her hair loose, and the glow of the passing streetlights played gently across her face. She gazed out, lost in thought.
Francisco, seated beside her, wasn't watching the road... he was watching her. His eyes drifted to her long, crossed legs, the smooth curve of her skin, the way the dress hugged her form. A subtle breath escaped him. He leaned back, eyes closed, trying to gather himself.
Her perfume—sweet and elegant—filled the car, drawing him in deeper. He inhaled again, letting the scent wrap around him.
"Which perfume do you use?" he asked suddenly, his voice low and calm.
Hazel turned to him, surprised. "Ah… it's Amarige," she replied, a bit hesitant.
"It smells incredible," he said, still not opening his eyes.
She looked at him for a moment, puzzled by his tone. But before she could dwell on it, she noticed the car turning off the route to her apartment. Unease settled in her chest.
"Mr. Francisco, I think..." she began, shifting slightly.
"It's okay, Hazel," he interrupted gently, opening his eyes.
Their gazes met. His blue eyes were steady, intense.
"You're coming with me," he said, firm and quiet.
Hazel blinked, confused. "What?"
"You're going with me," he repeated.
She stared at him, trying to process. "No, Mr. Francisco…" she began, her voice soft, uncertain.
"I can't let you stay there alone," Francisco said firmly, concern clear in his voice.
"But, Mr. Francisco… this feels awkward," Hazel replied, her brows knitting with unease.
"Are you worried about your reputation?"
Hazel pressed her lips together, silent but clearly torn.
Francisco noticed her hesitation. "Don't worry. My PA's safety comes first. I'll make sure of it."
Hazel lowered her gaze, quietly processing his words. As she turned to the window, a small smile tugged at her lips.
She had wanted to return to the mansion—and now, Francisco had made it easier.
She let out a soft sigh.
The car pulled up to the mansion. As they stepped out, Hazel took in the grand exterior, her heels clicking softly against the stone steps.
Inside the entrance hall, Francisco paused and addressed a maid. "Take her to the guest room."
"Yes, Master," the maid replied.
"Ma'am, this way, please," the maid said politely, gesturing down the corridor.
Hazel glanced back at Francisco. He was still watching her. Her eyes dropped quickly, her face a quiet mix of nerves and curiosity. Then, she followed the maid.
They reached the guest room, directly opposite Francisco's.
The space was luxurious... soft lights, high ceilings, elegant furniture. It felt unreal.
"Thank you," Hazel said, stepping inside.
"Ma'am, please change and freshen up. I'll prepare your bath."
"It's alright. I can manage..." Hazel began.
"No," the maid interrupted gently but firmly. "We have orders to serve you."
The maid quietly left after preparing the bath. Hazel stepped into the bathroom, wrapped in a soft towel. As the door clicked shut behind her, silence filled the room.
She looked at the bathtub, its surface scattered with rose petals. A sweet, calming scent filled the air.
After a brief pause, Hazel let the towel drop and eased herself into the warm water. A soft sigh slipped from her lips.
"Ahh…"
She leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling. The warmth wrapped around her like a comfort she hadn't known she needed.
Her thoughts turned to the car ride earlier.
Where could the drive be?
Could it be in his bedroom?
She frowned. Even if it was, she couldn't get in... not without his voice or a password. The uncertainty gnawed at her.
She ran her fingers through the water, slowly gliding them over her skin, trying to calm her nerves.
Meanwhile, across the mansion, Francisco stood under a steaming shower, water cascading down his lean frame.
Hazel was staying tonight.
Could he keep control?
The question lingered as he turned off the water and stepped out. He wrapped a robe around himself and moved into his room.
His phone buzzed.
An email.
He checked it, face unreadable. Then, with calm precision, he opened his laptop. The screen lit up his features as he scrolled, one hand rubbing his jaw in thought.
He lit a cigarette. Smoke curled in the air as the room took on a hazy glow.
Francisco turned to a drawer, pulled out a thick book, and flipped to the final pages. Tucked inside was a black pen drive.
He held it between his fingers, eyes locked on it.
Smooth.
Cold.
Silent.
The drive wasn't just storage... it was a secret. A piece of a hidden world, buried behind locked doors and unread files.
Francisco plugged the pen drive into his laptop. He leaned back in his chair, smoke curling from his cigarette as he watched the data transfer. His gaze was calm and focused.
The drive held a single, crucial piece of evidence.
When the transfer finished, Francisco carefully slipped the drive back into its hiding spot inside the book.
His bedroom doubled as his office, lined with two large bookshelves. Each shelf held countless stories—both open and secret.
Meanwhile, Hazel stepped out of the bath, wrapped in a towel. She spotted a dress laid out on the edge of the bed. As she slipped it on, unease settled over her. The dress was far more revealing than she was used to, leaving her feeling uneasy. She sighed, studying herself in the mirror.
What am I supposed to do now?
She glanced at the closet but found no other dresses her size.
Just then, a soft knock came at the door.
"Yes?" Hazel called.
A maid entered. "Ms., do you need anything?"
Hazel smiled faintly. "Actually, yes. This dress is a bit... uncomfortable."
The maid nodded. "I'll find something else for you."
She opened another closet and pulled out a few pairs of shorts and tops.
"Will this do?" she asked, offering the clothes with a kind smile.
Hazel relaxed, slipping into the more comfortable outfit. "Yes, this is much better. But—is all this Ms. Emily's wardrobe? What if she finds out I'm wearing her clothes?"
The maid's voice was even and neutral. "This isn't Ms. Emily's closet. It's Ms. Diana's."
Hazel's interest piqued. "Ms. Diana? Who is she?"
"She's our master's sister," the maid replied.
Hazel paused, curious. "Oh. I haven't met her. Does she live here?"
The maid explained, "She lives here, but in her own apartment."
"So, he has a sister too?" Hazel asked, curious.
The maid simply nodded, leaving Hazel with more questions and a growing urge to understand Francisco's world.
Hazel forced a smile. "Sorry, I thought this was Ms. Emily's room."
The maid replied flatly, "Master doesn't like to bring outside things into his mansion."
"Outside things?" Hazel repeated, surprised by the comparison.
The maid went on, "But she's his girlfriend."
Hazel blinked, caught off guard by the maid's casual tone. "Master changes girlfriends like he changes dresses?"
The maid's words hung in the air, hinting at the complicated nature of Francisco's relationships.
Hazel felt the weight of that revelation, realizing there was more beneath the surface than she'd imagined.
The maid, distant and reserved, added, "Call me if you need anything," then left the room without another word.
It was clear the maid wouldn't share more unless asked directly.