When Francisco relaxed under the spray of a hot shower, the calm in the hotel room was broken by a knock at the door.
Room service entered, one man wheeling in dinner while another followed behind, carrying two bottles of champagne.
The quiet hum of the cart and clinking of glassware filled the space as they set everything up on the table.
Hazel let out a slow breath, clearly annoyed by the sudden intrusion. She rolled her eyes but didn't say a word, watching them with thinly veiled impatience.
The men offered polite nods as they stepped back.
"Have a nice time, Ms.," one said with a courteous smile.
But just as they turned to leave, one of them paused.
"But as Sir did not tell us which flavor he likes, so we served two flavors," he explained.
Hazel's eyes narrowed slightly.
"It's okay. I also don't know his flavor. When he comes, I will tell him, he will inform."
The man nodded and the two exited quietly, closing the door behind them.
Hazel sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on the champagne. She rubbed her temple, anxiety creeping in as silence settled over the room again.
'He orders it too.'
'I don't know how this night will go.'
Her chest rose and fell with a shaky breath. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together tightly. Then her eyes moved to the table.... Francisco's phone lay there.
She stared at it for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her fingers twitched. She knew the risks, knew what he'd said about making him angry. But still, the thought pulled at her.
Her gaze hardened.
She had to try something.
With a quick glance at the closed bathroom door, Hazel gave in to the urge to act. Her hand moved fast but careful as she picked up Francisco's phone. A rush of adrenaline surged through her, her fingers trembling as she brought the screen to life.
The lock screen blinked back at her, demanding a password.
Her heart pounded. Hazel stared at the numbers, thinking hard. A memory stirred... Francisco's birthday. She had overheard it once, tucked away in her mind until now.
She tapped the date in, hope fluttering in her chest.
Invalid.
The screen flashed red. Her hope crumbled.
Biting her lip, she stared at the phone. Her eyes darted back to the bathroom.
The sound of running water stopped.
Hazel froze.
She gripped the phone tighter, holding her breath. The silence stretched.... and then, the door creaked open.
Francisco stepped out, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead. Water dripped from his collarbone, and his presence filled the room like heat. Hazel's breath hitched.
Francisco looked at her.
Just a blink.
Then his gaze dropped to the phone on the table. He said nothing. He walked over, picked up the phone, checked the screen....
Hazel's stomach twisted.
God, please… she begged in silence, don't let him know.
"Come, let's eat," Francisco said finally. His tone was calm, but Hazel felt the current beneath it... tight, quiet tension.
She nodded quickly and stood.
They sat across from each other at the table, the champagne bottles glinting between them. Hazel's eyes flicked to them, then back to Francisco.
"They were asking about your flavor," she said, carefully choosing her words
"I told them you would inform them later."
Francisco frowned.
"Flavor?" he echoed, brows drawing together.
He looked at her.
"I don't know what you guys talked about," Hazel said, voice tight as she avoided his eyes.
Francisco lifted his brows, then reached for a tray on the table. He flipped back a silk cloth to reveal chocolates and neatly lined packets. Hazel glanced over, curiosity edging into a frown.
"Oh, they were talking about this," he said, meeting her gaze.
Her eyes dropped to the tray.
Condoms.
Her brows knitted, confusion turning to heat in her cheeks... then his question landed.
"Which flavors do you prefer, Hazel?"
"Are you out of your mind?" Hazel shoot to her feet, chair scraping back, anger flashing across her face.
Francisco leaned into the chair, arms crossed, unbothered.
"I heard you bought something interesting for me. So I thought you might be in the mood."
Arthur told him everything, Hazel realized, stomach sinking.
"Come here." He extended his hand.
Hazel took a deep breath, hesitating. Then she reached out slowly. As soon as their hands met, Francisco pulled her forward with a firm tug. She stumbled into his lap, steadying herself by placing a hand on his shoulder.
He held her by the waist, his eyes fixed on hers with quiet force.
"Hazel, I am your everything. Just admit it," he said, his tone low but commanding.
Hazel's lips trembled. Her eyes burned. How could she admit that... knowing what he'd done? How could she give herself to the man who had brought her so much pain?
She met his gaze, defiant and steady.
"Is this possible?" she asked, voice quiet but sharp.
"If you were me, what would you do?"
"You would not accept anything."