Recall what?

Dexter silently popped a slice of apple into his mouth, his subtle gesture indicating approval for Natalie's request to stay at the resort for another day. Natalie's face lit up with a bright smile.

She beckoned Damon to follow her, saying "Damon, talk to me" as she led him out of the dining hall. Eliza and Dexter were left alone, the sudden absence of chatter and clinking dishes creating an awkward silence.

Eliza swiftly rose from her seat, intent on making a hasty exit, but Dexter's sharp command stopped her in her tracks.

"Sit down!" he ordered, his voice firm but low.

Dexter crossed his arms, his lazy gaze settling on Eliza with an unnerving intensity, as if daring her to defy him.

Eliza slowly sank back into her seat, her instincts screaming that she was in for an uncomfortable conversation. She picked up her spoon, focusing on the breakfast soup in front of her. The silence between them was palpable as she took small, tentative sips.

Her eyes darted up occasionally, stealing glances at Dexter, who remained still, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed intently on her. The air was thick with unspoken tension, and Eliza's nerves were on edge.

Eliza's face grew increasingly hotter under Dexter's intense gaze, until she finally choked on her food.

Cough...Cough...

Eliza hastily grabbed a glass of water and took a few desperate gulps to clear her throat. As she lifted her head, her eyes locked onto Dexter's, his obsidian gaze piercing and unyielding. Eliza's nerves were stretched taut, her patience wearing thin.

"Sir, do you have something you want to say to me?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside her. The air seemed to vibrate with anticipation as she waited for Dexter's response.

Dexter's expression remained impassive, his voice neutral. "No. Why?"

Eliza's eyes dropped, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Because you keep looking at me. Yesterday... I think I troubled you. I was very drunk and don't remember much. I'm really sorry," she apologized sincerely, her voice laced with remorse.

As Dexter remained silent, Eliza found it increasingly difficult to communicate with him. The awkwardness became too much to bear. "I'm full. Sir, I'll be going now. Goodbye!" she said, her voice a little too bright.

The next moment, she noticed he was following her.

Having no idea of his intention, she ignored him while quickening her pace.

After she entered her bedroom, the man pressed his hand against the door to prevent her from closing it.

When she instinctively looked up, her eyes met his cold gaze. Inexplicably, she became a little fearful of him. "Sir, is there anything else?"

Before she had even realized it, Dexter pushed open the door and slid into her room.

With her brows knotted, Eliza walked into the room after him.

Eliza felt suffocated at his formidable presence; it seemed as if her room had suddenly shrunk. Standing meekly before him, she asked, "Sir, do you have anything to say? Did I do something wrong?"

Dexter subconsciously tightened his hands in his pocket. He fixed his eyes on her as if he was trying to see through her.

"Have you forgotten about what happened yesterday?" Dexter finally asked, his voice low and even.

Eliza's eyes clouded with uncertainty. "Uh, I... I do remember something…"

Dexter's gaze narrowed. "What do you remember?"

Eliza's brow furrowed as she struggled to recall. "I remember that I was very thirsty…." Her voice trailed off, unable to summon any further memories.

Dexter's lips pursed, his expression unreadable. "That's it?"

Eliza's eyes widened, anxiety creeping in. "I normally fall asleep when I'm drunk. Sir, did I do anything else?"

Dexter's silence was oppressive, stretching out for what felt like an eternity. Then, without warning, he moved toward Eliza, his sudden proximity forcing her to take a few hasty steps backward.

Eliza's back pressed against the door, her eyes wide with apprehension as she gazed up at Dexter's looming figure. "Sir..." Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

Dexter's eyes seemed to bore into hers, his voice low and husky. "You couldn't recall it?" Eliza's confusion deepened; recall what?

Before she could ask, Dexter's head dipped, his face inching closer to hers. Their lips were mere inches apart, the air thick with tension. Eliza's heart racing, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Just as suddenly, Dexter's phone shrilled, shattering the charged atmosphere.

Dexter's eyes narrowed in annoyance at the interruption. He stepped away from Eliza to answer the call, his voice low and curt.

Eliza let out a silent sigh of relief as the tension was broken. She realized, however, that the back of her shirt was drenched in sweat. She hastily retreated to a couch on the opposite side of the room, eyeing Dexter warily.

Though engaged in conversation, Dexter cast occasional glances at Eliza, his gaze piercing. "Alright, I got it. I'll head back right now," he said, before ending the call.

His eyes locked onto Eliza's, and he said, "Try to recall until you remember it." With that, he turned and exited the room.

As soon as Dexter vanished from sight, Eliza's rigid posture relaxed, and she slumped into the couch. Her face flushed with a mix of emotions.

What was that guy trying to do to me just now? she wondered, her mind racing. And what is it that I'm supposed to recall?