Teeradon delegated tasks to his key assistant and secretary before breaking away to the third floor, heading straight for the narrow staircase that led to the space beneath the rooftop—the exclusive Super VIP members' area.
As he climbed the cramped stairs, Teeradon couldn't help but wonder why computer system problems always seemed to require someone to scale up and inspect cables on metal tracks suspended above the ceiling. This time, though, he was pleased that the 'chief engineer' had gone up himself.
That handsome monkey again... pale face, dark brows, prominent nose, red lips...
Wonder what expression he'd make if he knew who really owns this club...
Before long, the owner of the upscale establishment found himself standing on the catwalk beneath the rooftop, directly above Dusitia's entrance. When he craned his neck upward, he spotted the silhouette of a young man in navy work clothes, head bent in concentration over cables.
Humming while he works, no less. Such a cheerful mood. Does he have any idea a predator is lurking below, ready to devour him?
Hanging like that—isn't he afraid of falling?
Mmm... but that ass is as perfect as ever...
A slow smile spread across Teeradon's face as he gazed up at the firm backside of the young man who'd been spinning his head for over two weeks now. His mind couldn't help but conjure images of the street racer hanging naked beneath the rafters, while he himself lay bare and spread out below, surrounded by wisps of white smoke slowly dissipating to reveal Wittawin's pale face looking down at him with smoldering eyes, red lips parting slowly before licking them and calling his name in a husky whisper.
Can't help it—his looks are exactly my type. Let me indulge in a little fantasy...
"Wittawin!" Teeradon cleared his throat and called out loudly. The young engineer startled violently, whipping around to peer down at the man standing with hands on hips, face tilted upward. Sharp eyes widened in shock, mirrored by Teeradon's own widening gaze, followed by a resounding crash.
Ow...
Pain. Real pain. The world spins suddenly, everything blurs...
Oh no—please don't tell me he dropped a wrench on my head...
Wittawin... why…
Toey walked straight to patient room 1976 and reached for the door handle just as it swung open. A plump nurse emerged, dragging a stainless steel IV stand with saline bags—the pole bent at an odd angle in the middle.
"I'm here to visit Khun Teeradon," Toey announced, then looked down at the mangled equipment. "What happened?"
"The patient, that's what." The nurse shook her head. "Even injured, he had enough strength to snap an IV pole in half. I've never seen anything like it."
He has. Many times. There's only one person capable of this...
Toey smiled, waiting for the nurse to leave before opening the door to visit the 'patient.'
Poor Teeradon—though it's almost funny. Last time he was lucky the wrench only grazed his head. This time it got him full force, knocked him unconscious and straight to the hospital...
The handiwork of that pale-faced guy with dark brows, sharp nose, and red lips. Same one as always...
"I'm going after Wittawin," Teeradon declared the moment he saw his secretary. "I'll sue him for damages—two hundred or three hundred thousand. Charges of intentional bodily harm resulting in serious injury."
"The computer system was fixed by 7 PM," Toey reported matter-of-factly. "Everything was ready in time for the club to open at 10. Excellent work. You won't find another network technician that skilled."
"Good thing my skull didn't crack." Teeradon lifted his hand to probe his head.
"Without someone as capable as Wittawin, guests would still be standing outside the club. Everything would've been chaos." Toey continued singing the engineer's praises.
"Or maybe he deliberately tried to split my head open." Teeradon's eyes narrowed to slits.
"I suggest we cancel the contract with the old company and hire Network Solutions to maintain The Dazzle's systems permanently." The secretary and his boss were still talking past each other.
"Don't authorize payment for the system repair yet. I absolutely refuse to sign that check." The club owner's voice turned stern.
"I heard from Niwat that Wittawin went pale as a ghost rushing down to help. After someone took you to the hospital, he climbed right back up to finish the job."
"He still hasn't bothered to visit or apologize. Not even a phone call to ask how I'm doing." Teeradon shook his head in displeasure.
"You're not seriously hurt."
"Why don't you try getting hit and see how you like it?" Teeradon shot his secretary a withering look.
"At least it was just a leather tool pouch with a few small wrenches and screwdrivers. You brought it on yourself anyway, startling him like that out of nowhere. Good thing Wittawin didn't fall—from that height, he could've broken his neck and died." The secretary scolded his boss.
"Enough, Toey." Teeradon's voice went flat. "Here I am, knocked unconscious and rushed to the hospital, and the guy just keeps working like nothing happened. Not a tremor in his hands, not a moment of panic?"
"He has excellent focus. That's what you call a true professional. Even in such a shocking situation, he continued working efficiently. If he hadn't, the system wouldn't be fixed and how could the club open? The Dazzle would've faced total humiliation—an emergency closure on Thursday night because the lights wouldn't work." The liquor company secretary's words dripped with pointed emphasis.
"Oh, so getting tools dropped on my head means I owe him a debt of gratitude?" Teeradon's voice sharpened, eyes clouding with irritation that the person who should be on his side was defending 'the other party.'
"No—he owes you his life for not falling and breaking his neck." The secretary's tone remained ice-cold, each word a calculated jab.
Pamorn laughed until tears streamed down his face as Wittawin recounted the details of the 'accident' that had befallen Teeradon, unaware that someone stood with arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe behind them.
"His eyes went wide as goose eggs, mouth gaping so wide a whole bird could fly in. His scream was louder than a microphone. Just picturing it makes me want to quit watching comedy series forever." Wittawin's laughter harmonized with Pamorn's.
"Completely different from that guy who came after us at the Phetchaburi intersection, right?"Pamorn couldn't stop laughing.
"He's probably grinding his teeth in bed from anger at us right now now."
"Then he would need to see a dentist afterwards," Phamarun added.
"Wait until you have to go apologize to him—then you won't be laughing." Sarayoot's voice cut through from behind, having heard enough. But his two business partners continued their conversation, still chuckling.
"Making light of it, are we? Khun Teeradon had to stay in the hospital, Win." Sarayoot nudged Pamorn's shoulder, then gave Wittawin's cheek a gentle tap.
"Uncle Yoot," Wittawin dodged away. "I'm not a kid anymore. Stop patting my cheek."
"Do you know what the consequences are?" Sarayoot asked.
"He's not seriously hurt. He's only staying in the hospital because the doctor wants to monitor him. And he has money to burn, so he's just resting there instead of going to Hua Hin for the weekend." Wittawin explained.
"You didn't actually mean to drop that wrench on his head, did you?" Sarayoot's voice went flat. "You've mentioned it several times."
"Of course not. I was just talking. But this time he had bad luck. How was I supposed to know? I'm working quietly by myself and suddenly someone clears their throat and calls my name, startling me."
"His secretary called to schedule a meeting at 10 AM Wednesday. Khun Teeradon cleared his entire schedule, postponed all meetings. Says he'll come to the office early just to wait for the appointment." Sarayut's tone remained level, his expression grave.
"He can work already?" Pamorn was still chuckling softly.
"Probably walking with a cane because he's still dizzy and can't walk straight." Wittawin added with a smirk.
"You need to go apologize to him with a guardian," Pamorn suggested, then laughed even harder.
"What is it with this Teeradon guy? Won't he give up?" Wittawin pouted.
"He's frozen the payment of over ten million baht. The fees for Kunanon Brewery's computer system expansion have been put on hold too." Sarayoot delivered the first piece of bad news.
"Oh no, we're dead." Pamorn, who worried about money more than anything else, slapped his own forehead.
"Is he insane?" Wittawin shot to his feet, his tone deeply displeased.
"He won't sign the check for The Dazzle system repairs either." Sarayut announced the second piece of bad news.
"Sue him then, uncle Yoot." Wittawin's voice turned harsh.
"Come talk with me in the office." Sarayoot sighed softly and turned to walk back into the work room.
"A lawsuit would take years to resolve," Pamorn grimaced. "Nothing would be better than this, Win. For all our sakes."
"Still talking? You were laughing and having fun listening just now." Wittawin raised his hand as if to swat his friend, then exhaled forcefully before following Sarayoot into the office, preparing to hear the sermon and persuasion mixed with coercion that would make him apologize to that psychopath.
This is really bad. What kind of person loves causing trouble above all else? This Teeradon was definitely born to be my nemesis.