When they entered the office, Teeradon circled around to sit behind his desk and powered on the computer, then turned to ask Wittawin if he wanted anything to drink. The young engineer shook his head, standing rigidly near the door, refusing to budge even when Teeradon gestured toward the sofa.
"I'm a slow typist. This might take a while," Teeradon said, pecking at the keyboard one finger at a time. "Never had to type anything myself—always had secretaries do it."
Wittawin stood waiting patiently, knowing full well that Teeradon was deliberately stalling. Nearly five minutes crawled by with the club owner showing no signs of finishing the contract. Wittawin, his patience wearing thin, asked curtly, "Almost done?"
"Oh shit! What the hell?" Teeradon slapped the keyboard and exclaimed in mock surprise, eyes wide as he stared at the screen and shook his head.
"It all just disappeared! Come help me out here, Mr. Computer Engineer." Teeradon looked up and called to Wittawin, shaking his head in exaggerated frustration as he lifted the keyboard and slammed it back down on the desk. "All that typing for nothing."
"Well?" Teeradon raised an eyebrow when he saw Wittawin hadn't moved. "If you want that contract, come fix the computer."
Wittawin let out a heavy sigh and walked over to stand beside Teeradon's chair, waiting for the desk's owner to get up. But the other man remained seated until Wittawin had to say, "Move."
"You don't need me to move—you can just reach over me, can't you?" Teeradon played the role of troublemaker perfectly.
"I can't work comfortably like that." Wittawin's voice was steel, his brow furrowed as he glared at Teeradon's impassive face.
"Fine." Teeradon's response was curt. He stood abruptly and stepped away from the chair. Wittawin startled—he hadn't expected the sudden movement and stepped back to give him room, assuming Teeradon would walk past him. Instead, the office owner did something clumsy, stepping backward to go around behind him, causing them to tangle legs and nearly lose their balance.
Wittawin tumbled back against Teeradon's solid frame. His back pressed against the other man's chest, their bodies aligned—back to front, his hips against Teeradon's thighs. Most significantly, Teeradon's left arm wrapped loosely around Wittawin's waist as if to steady him, while Wittawin's right hand, flung back in surprise and fear of falling, was caught and held firmly by the man behind him.
Teeradon felt like he'd been struck by lightning. His body jolted as Wittawin's warmth seeped into him instantly. For a split second, he seized the opportunity to lean forward and nuzzle the clean, fragrant white neck of the 'young monkey' who had been tormenting his thoughts. His sharp nose grazed the smooth skin beneath Wittawin's ear, the electrical surge intensifying, sending waves of heat cascading from his nose down to his stomach, then exploding at his groin before plunging to his toes. His knees nearly buckled.
If Teeradon possessed mind-reading powers, he would have known that Wittawin felt it too...
The slightest touch, yet it shook his very soul...
"Ow," Teeradon groaned softly when Wittawin jerked his arm free and twisted away quickly, his sharp elbow jabbing hard into Teeradon's stomach.
Accident or intentional, Wittawin? That elbow's like a weapon—nearly knocked the wind out of me...
But what I did wasn't an accident. What just happened—Teeradon did that on purpose, you little monkey...
"Just send me the contract along with Pamorn's card later. It's late—I'm going home." Wittawin spoke evenly, standing straight-backed in front of Teeradon's desk, acting as if nothing had happened.
"Not afraid I'll cheat you?" Teeradon smiled faintly.
"With you, I have to take risks." Wittawin's voice was cold as he walked toward the door, but it wouldn't open.
He whipped around to glare at Teeradon.
"What's wrong?" Teeradon raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion.
Wittawin said nothing, just looked at the door, then back at the room's owner with irritated eyes. Teeradon continued his bewildered act and went to twist the door handle, muttering, "What's wrong with this thing?"
"This door's controlled by a computer system, isn't it?" Wittawin asked, his voice sharp as he fixed Teeradon with a suspicious stare.
"Well, It was your company who fixed our computer system. How did you fix it then?" Teeradon shrugged, deflecting blame to the computer engineer.
"When I came in to work on it, it was the electrical system," Wittawin replied.
"Well, the door has an electrical system too."
"I meant the lighting system." Wittawin's voice cracked with frustration. "The systems here are separate. Sound and lighting aren't connected, and the door is yet another system."
"The system must be down." Teeradon sighed and picked up the phone, waiting for someone to answer, but no one did. He walked back to the desk. "Looks like we're stuck in this room for a while."
"Khun Teeradon, what kind of joke are you pulling?" Wittawin's voice grew sharper, suspicion about Teeradon's behavior mounting.
"What joke am I pulling?" Teeradon looked puzzled, discretely touching a small, round button under his desk—knowing that one light press would open the door easily. "You're good with computers. Come fix the system. This machine connects to the network, but I don't know if I can control everything from here."
"Of course you can. Why couldn't you? Your office looks this high-tech—the system must be well-designed. This room could practically be called a control center." Wittawin looked around, thinking to himself:
Probably a love nest too. There might be hidden buttons that make a big bed rise from the floor and mirrored panels slide across the ceiling above it. Someone could lie there and see everything clearly. A playboy of Teeradon's caliber—president of Thailand's national playboy club and filthy rich—would definitely spend money on something like this...
"Please, go ahead." Teeradon stood up from the chair and moved to the corner of the desk, making a show of 'clearing the way' for Wittawin to work comfortably.
Don't let me catch you playing games, or I'll crash the whole system and watch it burn...
Wittawin thought, sat at Teeradon's desk and examined programs that might control the computer systems. The young engineer quickly located the door and lighting systems for the entire club, then found Teeradon's office door and ran a test.
"There's nothing wrong with it," Wittawin said softly, looking up at Teeradon, only to find the club owner now stretched out on the large black sofa.
Wittawin walked over to open the door to be sure, peeking outside where he saw no one, hearing only faint music drifting up from downstairs. Then he walked back to stand looking at Teeradon, part of him wanting to wake him, part wanting to leave him sleeping alone.
Teeradon's sharp, intense features looked peaceful in repose. His eyes showed slight shadows—probably from working hard day and night. His broad chest rose and fell in steady rhythm.
Asleep, Teeradon looked like a harmless young man. Wittawin shook his head slowly, as if reluctant to believe this was the same person who chased after him so ridiculously, the same self-absorbed man who loved to bother him, the same president of the country's liquor giant and owner of the biggest, most luxurious club he'd ever encountered.
"Why are you standing there staring at me so adoringly?" The deep voice spoke softly. Wittawin startled slightly, seeing Teeradon's eyes flutter open, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he looked up to meet Wittawin's gaze with sparkling eyes.
And reluctant to believe this was the same incredibly conceited man...
Wittawin pursed his lips, then turned and walked straight toward Teeradon's office door without a word, leaving the young executive who had just woken from his nap to lift his head and watch him go with a knowing smile.
Almost there. I'm definitely going down—before this month is out, Wittawin...
You better watch yourself...
***