I am not here for babysitting

Hazel's eyes darted around Francisco's room, contemplating the best way to search for the drive she believed he had safely tucked away. The closet seemed like a logical place.

His room exuded an air of security, adding to Hazel's conviction that the drive must be stored somewhere well-protected. A dilemma lingered in her mind — should she risk opening the closet? The potential reward battled with the fear of invading Francisco's privacy.

Frustrated by the lack of alternatives, Hazel pressed her lips together, determined to find a solution. Her gaze shifted to his table where the laptop and phone sat, tempting her with the possibility of uncovering the elusive drive. She took a deep breath, silently imploring divine intervention.

'God, help me.'

'I want to search his room by hook or by crook.'

With a resolve bordering on audacity, Hazel approached the table, fingers trembling as she considered her next move.

'Just a quick look.'

She muttered to herself, eyes darting between the laptop and phone.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of the door caught her attention. Panic briefly flickered in her eyes as she pivoted, locking eyes with Francisco, who stood at the entrance, clad only in a bathrobe.

Water droplets clung to his dark hair, and rivulets traced the contours of his broad, muscular chest. Time seemed to slow as Hazel's heart raced, caught off guard by his sudden return.

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

He tugged his hair back from his forehead, fixing Hazel with an intense gaze. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Hazel averted her green eyes.

However, the thought of her mission helped her regain composure, and she mustered the courage to meet his gaze once more.

As Hazel looked at Francisco, a spark of realization ignited within her. She saw an opportunity, a way to get closer to her goal. With a subtle smile, she addressed him, "Mr. Francisco, should I wait outside?"

His slow blink and the husky tone of his voice hung in the air.

"Why?"

"Help me with my hair."

Francisco, intrigued, directed his fingers to his own hair and settled on the couch.

With a towel in hand, she approached him, ready to wipe his wet hair. As she gently moved the towel over his locks, Francisco's eyes closed.

His long lashes rested on his cheeks, an alluring feature that momentarily distracted Hazel from her mission.

'I need to advance my plan.'

Hazel's fingers danced lightly over Francisco's head, delivering a massage that he welcomed with closed eyes. Lost in the pleasure of Hazel's skilled touch, he began to drift into a state of relaxation.

Observing Francisco's seemingly deep slumber, Hazel ceased her ministrations. A sense of disappointment washed over her.

'I didn't expect him to fall asleep so quickly. I need to learn more about him.'

As she moved forward, annoyance etched on her face, intent on claiming the pudding, a sudden grip on her hand startled Hazel. Francisco's voice, wide awake, broke the silence.

"Where are you going?" he inquired, eyes open wide, hair tousled.

Caught off guard, Hazel met his gaze.

"I thought you fell asleep," she stammered, slowly placing the pudding back on the table.

Francisco reclined in his chair, crossing his legs as he rested his chin on his palm, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"How can I sleep without tasting my PA's pudding?" he remarked.

Hazel attempted a smile, the knife in her hand poised to cut through the dessert. However, Francisco's unwavering gaze remained fixed on her.

"You look so funny when you try to force yourself to smile," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Hazel tightened her grip on the knife, caught off guard by his comment.

"What are you saying, Mr. Francisco?"

Francisco maintained his smirk but offered no verbal response. Hazel hesitated, then proceeded to cut the pudding, presenting the plate to him with a mix of apprehension and a slight smile.

"I don't know if it will suit your taste or not," Hazel admitted, her eyes meeting his.

Francisco extended his hand and indulged in a bite of Hazel's pudding, his initial expression undergoing a noticeable change. Hazel shot him a sidelong glance, a subtle smile playing on her lips. She knew she had managed what she needed to.

Unexpectedly, Francisco took another bite, leaving Hazel both surprised and intrigued. She maintained her composure, not letting her astonishment show in her face.

'That girl said he didn't like sweets. But I added a lot of sugar, so he could not eat. But it seems he is enjoying it.'

Coughing to break the silence, Hazel asked, "Is it okay, Mr. Francisco?"

"I don't like sweets," he replied with a nonchalant tone.

Hazel raised her eyebrows, not expecting such a candid review from him.

"Oh," she responded, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Then you can put it. I am sorry, I think I messed up."

Francisco took another bite, giving her a sidelong glance.

"Don't worry; I will take the compensation," Francisco declared, a directness in his tone as he finished the pudding.

Hazel, surprised, asked, "What?"

"Yes!"

Francisco affirmed, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Come on, eat with me," he added, claiming the entire pudding.

Hazel, smiling slightly, stammered, "I made it for you only."

"But I won't mind sharing with you," Francisco replied, a spoonful of pudding poised before her lips.

"Come on," he insisted.

Pressing her lips lightly, Hazel hesitated but ultimately dug her own grave with her hands. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth, taking a bite. Her brows arched in surprise; the pudding was too sweet.

"Um!" she managed, making a slightly disgusted face.

"What happened?" Francisco inquired.

Hazel nodded in the negative.

"You don't like your cooking?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

"But I like your pudding," he added, turning the tables with unexpected amusement.

Hazel cast a look at Francisco, her eyes conveying a sense of pity as if apologizing for the culinary mishap, though secretly she harbored no regrets. Francisco, seemingly oblivious, continued to enjoy the remaining pudding.

"I am sorry, Mr. Francisco," Hazel apologized, a hint of remorse in her voice.

"I told them I wanted to make a bird roast. As you mentioned, you like birds."

"But they said they don't have birds."

Hearing Hazel's explanation, Francisco suddenly burst into laughter. Hazel, taken aback, shifted her gaze to him, witnessing the rare sight of him laughing. She quickly averted her eyes, unable to ignore the captivating charm of his smile.

His laughter echoed, and Hazel, still looking away, attempted to compose herself. However, she felt a gentle pressure on her chin, Francisco's fingers guiding her to face him. She turned her head slightly to the left, but his touch persisted, directing her to the right until her eyes met his.

Slowly, Francisco rubbed her chin, his tone lightening.

"I like my bird. But no one knows about it."

"I keep her secret."

"You just do whatever you want," he added, a subtle invitation lingering in his words. Leaning closer, Francisco whispered into Hazel's ears, a revelation that sent a shiver down her spine.

"As for the bird, I like to eat her raw."

Hazel swallowed hard, attempting to push Francisco away, but he had already enveloped her in his arms. His request came unexpectedly, "Sweet things cause me a headache. Give me a massage."

Confused and alarmed, Hazel protested, "What are you doing?"

Her voice rose with unease.

Ignoring her, Francisco effortlessly lifted her in his arms and stood up. Hazel's protestations grew louder, "Stop it!"

Ignoring her pleas, Francisco carried her to his bed. Panic set in as Hazel anticipated something she wasn't ready for. As he placed her on the bed and lowered his head, her shock intensified.

The unexpected turn left Hazel bewildered.

Francisco, lying upside down on the bed, rubbed his head against her belly and replied, "Caress my head."

Hazel hesitated, uncertain about the peculiar situation. "But—"

"Don't make me repeat, Hazel!" Francisco asserted, tightening his grip on her waist.

Taking a deep breath, Hazel leaned against the bed cupboard. Francisco, still in his inverted position, kept his head on her lap.

Resolute, Hazel touched his hair and began caressing it, her expression stern. The unexpected turn of events left her internally shaking her head.

'I am not here for babysitting.'