Teeradon lifted his gaze from the security system's TV monitor and turned to watch the 'computer engineer' who had been working in silence for over an hour. Ever since Wittawin had entered the control room to repair the network system, he hadn't spoken a single word—just kept his head down, working as if the owner of The Dazzle club wasn't even in the room.
"How much longer, Wittawin?" Teeradon approached the younger man, his voice soft after enduring more than an hour of standing and sitting in restless silence.
Wittawin shook his head and continued working. Teeradon circled behind him, leaning down until his chin nearly grazed Wittawin's shoulder.
"I'm getting sleepy, Wittawin. If you're not finished, you could always come back tomorrow."
Another head shake. Teeradon's irritation flared. "You're not mute, you know. No one's going to scold you for speaking."
Wittawin maintained his characteristic silence. Teeradon dragged a chair over, positioning himself beside the young engineer's desk, studying that pale face with an amused smile before speaking again.
"You're deliberately working slowly so you can sit here with me longer, aren't you, Wittawin?"
"I don't want to come back here again, so I'm trying to finish everything properly." Wittawin's voice was flat, emotionless.
"If the system breaks down again, you'll have to come. The maintenance contract between your company—Sarayoot's company—and The Dazzle is quite clear about that." Teeradon deliberately emphasized that the computer company had Sarayoot as its owner.
"A slave contract," Wittawin murmured, eyes fixed on the computer screen while his fingers danced across the keyboard with practiced ease.
"I didn't force your uncle to sign that contract," Teeradon stressed Sarayoot's status. "And Pamorn was the one who proposed the contract terms for my consideration."
"You pressured Uncle Sarayoot and deceived Pamorn." Wittawin glanced up at Teeradon briefly before returning to his work.
"Don't go throwing accusations around. I might sue you for defamation. When have I ever done anything that underhanded? I conduct business transparently—everything can be verified." Teeradon glanced at his watch. Fifteen more minutes until ten o'clock. Tonight was relatively quiet; the club was running smoothly under Niwat, his right-hand man's watchful eye.
Tonight, he wanted to flirt with Wittawin. He missed him terribly—longed for both their first time and their most recent encounter. More than three weeks had passed, and the stubborn little monkey still wouldn't let him 'advance' to second base. Wittawin's simple reasoning: 'I'm scared it'll hurt.'
What could possibly hurt that much? Stop teasing and driving me crazy. I promised I'd be gentle, but Wittawin just keeps shaking his head...
But tonight, I'm going to conquer Wittawin for real this time. None of that 'outside' climax like the first time. Everything needs proper 'finish'…
Teeradon followed Wittawin outside the club to the 'special parking spot'—a small space near the back entrance, just wide enough for a motorcycle. This time, Wittawin had chained his bike to an iron pipe beside a post, as if afraid it might be stolen, despite Teeradon's assurances that the staff would keep special watch over it.
"Let me give you a ride home," Teeradon said as they approached the parking area. "I've never taken you home before."
"I have my bike."
"Having a bike doesn't mean I can't give you a ride, does it?"
"I never let anyone drive me home." Wittawin shrugged.
"Then let me be the first." Teeradon quickened his pace to match Wittawin's stride, tilting his head to study the tall young man who walked with perfect posture, his steps rhythmic and measured. "We're boyfriends now. Boyfriends should drive each other home sometimes."
"Are we boyfriends?" Wittawin raised an eyebrow. "We've only done something once. Does that automatically make us boyfriends?"
"Hey, how can you say that?" Teeradon's voice rose as he reached out to grab Wittawin's arm. "You can't just take what you want from me and then run away that easily."
Wittawin didn't answer, dodging Teeradon's reach as he bent down to unlock the chain securing his motorcycle. He swung his leg over his trusty BMW, face impassive, staring straight ahead before turning to address Teeradon, who stood with hands on hips, neck craned to watch him.
"I don't like players."
"I peeled the 'President of the Thai Players Association' sticker off my car's rear window already." Teeradon deadpanned.
"People who want to be in a romantic relationship need to have standards," Wittawin continued.
"I've stopped playing around since I met you. No wait—since I told you I loved you, I haven't been with anyone else."
"Is that so?" Wittawin tilted his head, eyebrow arched skeptically.
"You don't believe me?"
"I'm not with you 24/7. How would I know?" Wittawin shrugged, his tone dripping disbelief.
"Then move in with me. You'll see for yourself." Teeradon leaned closer, bending down.
"That's not necessary. Just hearing things secondhand is enough to know."
"What do you mean? Don't go believing every rumor you hear." Teeradon's brow furrowed.
Damn Toey. His secretary seemed to be angry about something lately, acting snippy with him more often. Toey must be calling Wittawin to discredit him. At first, he helped him pursue Wittawin, but ever since things went south with Sarayoot, Toey had been acting strange...
"Wittawin, I can't help it if people fall for my charms. You know I'm handsome, rich, and irresistible. Everyone wants me." Teeradon's expression remained perfectly serious.
"Narcissist. You never stop being in love with yourself," Wittawin shook his head.
"Don't change the subject." Teeradon ignored the insult. "It takes two to tango. Even if someone throws themselves at me, I'm not interested. I told you I've quit all that. I only want to tango with you."
Wittawin sighed and started his motorcycle, reminding himself that he didn't want to take risks. He couldn't afford to gamble—not with Teeradon the player, Teeradon the schemer, Teeradon who would use every trick in the book to get what he wanted.
"Wittawin." Teeradon reached out to grasp the rearview mirror of the engineer's blue BMW and said, "You can't stop people from being interested in me. Some want me for personal gain. You can't say I haven't quit playing around or that I'm seeing someone else just because people chase after me. Lumping everything together like that isn't fair. I'm not even jealous of you and Pamorn."
"Are you insane? Pamorn and I are just friends," Wittawin shook his head.
"I'm not jealous of Sarayoot either. See?"
Jealous as hell. Working together every day, so jealous I could go blind. The way Wittawin only listens to Sarayoot makes me even more paranoid...
"Uncle Sarayoot and I don't have anything going on."
"I'm not jealous of Baramee either."
I'd really like to kill Baramee and be done with it, so I wouldn't have to worry about this thorn in my side. Never know when Baramee might come back to mess with Wittawin...
"Baramee and I are friends too. We don't have anything, never had anything." Wittawin sighed heavily.
"I'm trying to tell you that couples need to trust each other. You can't accuse me of not quitting my player ways just because people chase after me—people I can't possibly fend off completely. You know my magnetic charm is powerful."
"Enough," Wittawin shook his head.
"What? Going to call me narcissistic again? I'm just stating facts." Teeradon shrugged.
"I'm going home." Wittawin cut him off curtly and revved the engine.
"I'm following you. Run if you want, but I'm taking you home today one way or another. If I can't drive you, I'll just tail you all the way there." Teeradon raised his phone and dialed. When someone answered, he barked orders to the security guard loud enough for Wittawin to hear clearly.
"Who's this? Oh, Manop? This is Teeradon. Don't let the blue BMW motorcycle leave until my car reaches the guard post."
"Khun Teeradon!" Wittawin protested.
"Just wait a moment. Let me get to my car first, then you can leave." Teeradon raised his index finger, waving it back and forth in front of Wittawin—a signal for the young man to wait while he carefully backed away. Wittawin revved his motorcycle but didn't move forward. Teeradon called out the young man's name with an expression of mock sternness before turning and jogging toward his car, quickly opening the door of his own Porsche 911. The moment Teeradon slammed his door shut, Wittawin shot his BMW out of the parking spot, heading straight for the front of the club with the beautiful Porsche in hot pursuit.
"Manop, check if he exchanged his parking ticket. Stall for time. If I haven't reached the guard post yet, absolutely do not let that blue BMW motorcycle onto the main road," Teeradon commanded while accelerating after Wittawin.
When we get to his condo, I'm storming into his room no matter what. Want to challenge me, little monkey? Tonight I'm definitely going to finish what we started. This handsome devil is going full course of love making—he'll never forget it...
***