Teeradon drove slowly into the parking area, a smile tugging at his lips when he spotted the familiar blue BMW motorcycle already parked there. And not just anywhere—it was parked in an executive spot.
The chairman's parking space, no less. This guy really doesn't fear anyone, does he?
The company's chairman stepped out of his car and walked over to examine the blue motorcycle with an amused expression, his hand gliding over the seat as if trying to capture the lingering warmth of its owner who had once sat on that black leather.
Finally, Wittawin couldn't escape. No matter how much he dodged or how skillfully he rode, he still had to come sit and wait to meet me in my office.
I'm dying to see his face clearly—just how stubborn will he be?
Teeradon walked into the administrative building with obvious good humor, heading to his office on the third floor. His secretary had arrived early as usual and was sitting with his head down, organizing papers on his desk. The moment Teeradon opened the door, Toey looked up and glanced toward his boss's office door—a silent communication that said:The defendant is in the room.
"Are you absolutely sure, Toey? No jokes this time?" Teeradon still felt uncertain, asking with a stern expression.
"Absolutely certain, sir. Khun Sarayoot, the partner who had the honor of being uncle-mediator, did an excellent job of persuasion. The only thing missing was personally escorting him here." Toey replied with equally serious composure, though his heart was pounding with worry that the two men might end up fighting and he'd have to play cleanup crew as usual.
"Good." Teeradon nodded curtly. "I'll give you an extra month's bonus."
"I'd rather have a round-the-world travel ticket," Toey countered, settling into his chair with the air of someone ready to start work, but muttering just loud enough for his boss to hear: "Be nice and you'll get rewarded, be harsh and you'll lose out."
Teeradon glanced at his charming secretary and reached for the door handle, smiling once more at his victory before slowly pushing the door open to meet the 'young speed demon' named Wittawin—someone who had proven remarkably difficult to summon.
Wittawin sat motionless in the chair facing his large desk, his hair cut short and neat. From behind, Teeradon could tell the young man was considerably well-built.
When I saw him riding that motorcycle, he looked lean and wiry... but with a nice ass.
Now let's see clearly whether Wittawin will be to my taste.
The 'defendant' waiting there sensed someone entering and rose, turning slowly to face him.
Teeradon caught his breath as the young man stretched to his full height—nearly matching his own—with fairly broad shoulders, long arms, long legs, and most importantly:
Really does have a nice ass.
"Hello, sir," Wittawin greeted Teeradon, but putting his hands in a Thai's 'wai', catching the young executive off guard—he hadn't expected this 'troublemaker' to greet him so politely.
"So you finally came." Teeradon walked closer, studying the face of this 'handsome little monkey with red lips' whom he'd only glimpsed in passing several times.
Large round eyes, dark eyebrows that curved upward at the tips, a prominent nose, red lips—exactly as he'd first seen him. But now he noticed that Wittawin's cheeks were fair and smooth with a slight rosy flush.
Hah, chubby-cheeked monkey. No wait—red-cheeked monkey is more accurate.
"I came to apologize for displeasing you and not coming when summoned, as well as for cutting in front of your car causing damage, and for dropping my wrench on your head causing injury that required hospitalization." Wittawin spoke slowly and softly in the same measured tone throughout, his face expressionless, reciting the well-prepared sentences.
Uncle Sarayoot definitely coached him on what to say.
"Never mind," Teeradon shrugged. "Since you've apologized, I'm not holding any grudges."
"Thank you." The young man who looked younger than his years bowed his head, then turned to walk away from the desk of Kunanon Brewery's executive.
"Wait a minute," Teeradon stopped him.
"Yes?" The person who had delivered his ceremonial apology and was eager to leave looked up with raised eyebrows.
"I want you to look at something." Teeradon smiled and walked to sit in his large leather chair, pulling up a file on his computer screen.
Wittawin remained standing like a statue in the same spot until Teeradon turned to raise an eyebrow, tilted his head, and pointed at the computer screen, sending a subtle command for the stone-faced young man to come around and see what was on the display.
The young engineer slowly stepped forward and stopped at the corner of the desk.
"Come look closer," Teeradon glanced at him, sending a 'commanding' look for the other man to lean down and view the screen, which now showed a video clip of The Dazzle's giant security staff carrying a fair-skinned, dark-browed young man outside.
Teeradon drew in a slow, deep breath as Wittawin leaned down to look at the computer screen.
That sweet scent... God, I want to bury my nose in his neck.
Wittawin watched the footage for just a few seconds before straightening up and standing silent, offering no comment.
Teeradon sighed and swiveled his chair to face the tall figure standing straight as a soldier. "Is that you?"
"Yes," Wittawin answered briefly.
"How did you get in?" Teeradon leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to await an answer. When the man standing there refused to respond, Teeradon continued: "Do you know that membership to my club costs hundreds of thousands per year and not just anyone can apply? You have to be invited. Once you become a member, there's still an entrance fee each time. And the upper floor you went to is the super VIP section, called Dusitia."
"Are you going to report me to the police for trespassing?" Wittawin asked flatly.
"No," Teeradon shrugged. "I'm not that vindictive."
Wittawin continued standing silently, waiting for Teeradon to continue speaking, trying to control his emotions and not argue with this troublemaker since he'd promised Sarayoot he'd come apologize to end this matter quickly. But he hadn't expected new issues to surface.
Bad luck that Teeradon owns The Dazzle. He shouldn't have gone upstairs that night. Now this guy will probably keep harassing him endlessly. Doesn't he have anything better to do?
"But unfortunately, a guest filed a report," Teeradon shook his head with a deep sigh.
"I didn't do anything. I hadn't even reached the top step when I encountered those two giant security guards. I didn't disturb any of your VIP guests at all." Wittawin spoke at greater length, his eyes flashing immediately.
Those fierce eyes. This isn't going to be easy.
Teeradon smiled thinly, pretending not to listen, but his next statement nearly made Wittawin explode.
"That night, one of the guests lost a bracelet. A diamond bracelet worth quite a bit," Teeradon put on a grave expression.
"I didn't steal anything. I only walked up a few steps," Wittawin's voice turned harsh.
"I didn't say you stole anything. Don't get emotional," Teeradon remained cool, beginning to enjoy provoking this stone-faced person. "But you need to look at this from a mature, reasonable perspective."
"How so?"
"It could have been anyone—a server, security, bartender, or even another guest. And when something like this happens, we have to review the security camera footage." Teeradon paused, then leaned forward, studying the clean, fair face of the young man who was pursing his lips to control his emotions, before continuing: "And we see security carrying out a strangely dressed person who had snuck into the club. Who do you think the police would suspect?"
"They'd suspect me," Wittawin looked directly into Teeradon's eyes with unwavering determination. "You suspect me too. So what are you waiting for? Have me arrested and sent to police, put me through a lie detector test."
Now we're getting somewhere. This could be fun.
Teeradon stood up, shrugged, acting as if he wanted to drop the subject. "No need. It's just a diamond bracelet worth a few million. I can compensate the guest myself."
"If you're going to have the police question me, just call Khun Sarayoot," Wittawin said firmly.
"That's all then. You may go," Teeradon gestured dismissively.
The person who thought he was being dismissed didn't wait for the room's owner to 'tell' him twice—he spun around sharply and strode quickly toward the door, unaware that the one who had 'dismissed' him was watching his retreating figure with gleaming eyes.
This is just the beginning, little speed demon monkey. Our road together is still long indeed.
Teeradon slowly sat back down in his chair, turning to look at the computer screen with a smile as he watched the footage of the person being carried out of the club, trying to fight against the giant security guards.
Look at that—even at that size, he's still so feisty. Really troublesome.
Now this should cure my boredom. Let me take on this red-lipped young warrior who's so wonderfully stubborn. Let's see where he'll rank among all the entertaining toys I've sampled.
***