Trust

The next day, Hazel awoke to find Francisco absent from bed. It struck her that, once again, she had fallen asleep beside him. Hastily fixing her disheveled dress, she scanned the room, catching the distant sounds emanating from the washroom.

'He must be taking a shower.'

A sense of urgency gripped Hazel.

'I need to do something right now so that he doesn't suspect me.'

She thought. Taking a deep breath, she moved toward the closet, her mind racing.

Without a second thought, Hazel opened the closet. She positioned herself strategically, ensuring her actions wouldn't be caught on camera. Swift and decisive, she began her search, digging through drawers and gliding her hands under clothes. Time seemed to compress as Hazel worked with remarkable speed, leaving everything seemingly undisturbed.

Her keen instincts guided her, and she executed each move with precision. Every drawer, every crevice was explored in a calculated manner. Hazel left no trace of her intrusion, orchestrating the search in a way that concealed her actions from prying eyes.

Frustration clouded Hazel's face as she combed through the closet, finding nothing suspicious. The silence was abruptly shattered by the cessation of running water. A sense of urgency surged within Hazel, prompting her to grab a neatly arranged white shirt, a deep blue coat, a tie, and matching pants. She laid them out meticulously on the bed, preparing for Francisco's emergence from the washroom.

The door opened, and Francisco stepped out, catching Hazel's eye. She greeted him with a broad smile, attempting to mask any lingering frustration.

"Good morning, Mr. Francisco."

Francisco, clad only in a towel, met her gaze. Hazel, despite herself, found her eyes wandering from his chest to his navel, captivated by his sculpted physique.

A subtle press of her lips betrayed the admiration she struggled to conceal.

"Your door locks automatically. So I could not open it, sir," she explained, a note of innocence in her tone.

Francisco, moving closer, now donning the towel, took notice of the outfit she had chosen for him. His lips curved into a slight smile as he retrieved the coat.

"You are so well in your duty, Hazel," he acknowledged, the compliment laced with a hint of admiration.

Hazel's gaze lowered, a moment of contemplation passing before she spoke, "I need to change too, so would you please open the lock, sir?"

Francisco, curiously, questioned, "Why?"

"Today you don't have to go with me as well."

A hint of suspicion crept into Hazel's narrowed eyes.

"Then?" she probed.

"Actually, you will stay here because soon I am going to Georgia," Francisco revealed.

The mention of Georgia sent Hazel's heart racing. Deals, negotiations — Georgia, it meant it was serious.

"Georgia?" she echoed, her concern apparent.

"Mr. Francisco, as long as I know, there is no meeting fixed there," Hazel pointed out.

"It happened suddenly," Francisco replied, brushing off the topic with a succinct explanation. Hazel, however, wasn't ready to let it go.

"Mr. Francisco, are you thinking about firing me from your job?" she questioned, her tone carrying a tinge of vulnerability.

"Am I not worth being your PA?"

A sad expression clouded Hazel's face as she awaited his response.

Francisco, his wet hair tugged back, approached Hazel with purpose after hearing her concerns. Coming to a stop in front of her, he gently took a strand of her hair, his voice low as he reassured her, "Why would I do that?"

Hazel, feeling the weight of her own apprehensions, whispered, "Because you are not letting me do any official work."

With a subtle challenge in his tone, Francisco countered, "Who said you are not doing it?"

He pointed out her diverse contributions, from choosing his attire to preparing meals, and now the mention of helping with his hair.

Hazel's gaze dropped, a moment of realization settling in.

'Damn it.'

She thought her inner frustration evident.

Suddenly, Francisco surprised her by touching the strand of her hair with his lips. His intense gaze locked onto Hazel, who, feeling uncomfortable, instinctively stepped back.

Stammering, she managed, "I... I need to go to the washroom."

"Will you please open the door?" Hazel asked, hoping for a reprieve from the unexpected closeness.

Taking a deep breath, Francisco responded, "Remember the number, 2322020."

Hazel, taken aback, registered the seemingly random sequence of numbers.

'He gave me the code. Does that mean he has started to believe me?'

Hazel mused, her mind racing with possibilities. With a quick tap of the code, the door cracked open, allowing her a quick escape from Francisco's room.

She swiftly walked away, hoping to put some distance between herself and the intense gaze that still followed her path.

Hazel's thoughts raced; she needed a plan, something that would keep Francisco from going to Georgia. Tension hung in the air as she pondered her next move.

While pacing around the room, Hazel felt the weight of the task at hand.

"What should I do to make him stay here?" she wondered, her mind churning with possibilities. She considered her options, contemplating how to manipulate the situation to her advantage.

As Hazel moved about, a sense of urgency fueled her actions.

**

Francisco meticulously prepared for his important meeting, the air in the room filled with a sense of purpose. Spritzing on a subtle layer of cologne, he buttoned his sleeves with precision, each movement deliberate and calculated.

Opening a drawer, Francisco retrieved a pen drive from a seemingly ordinary book. This was no ordinary day; it was the day for a crucial discussion about an important meeting. The upcoming mission promised to be challenging, requiring meticulous planning and preparation.

As Francisco examined the contents of the pen drive, his mind delved into the complexities of the task at hand.

The files on the pen drive held the key to his strategy, and he pored over them with unwavering focus.

Papers scattered across the desk, documents marked with critical details, and a laptop open to reveal a digital landscape of plans and schematics. Francisco, the mastermind orchestrating the operation, was a picture of calm determination.