Lost In The Race But Driven by Love (Winner X Dean)

Chapter 2

Winner slammed his drinking glass on the table, the sound echoing through the upscale lounge. His expensive suit was now stained with the bright red cocktail the clumsy waiter had spilled.

"Are you stupid?" Winner snapped, his voice sharp as he glared with fury at the young waiter stood frozen and wide-eyed in front of him, a slight tremble in his hands. The crowd nearby stilled, sensing the tension.

"Do you even know how much this costs, you idiot?!" Winner shouted.

"I-I'm so sorry, sir! It was an accident—" The young waiter fumbling over his apologies.

"Accident?" Winner spat.

"You've already messed it up," he growled, standing up abruptly and grabbing the waiter by the collar.

"Do you think I'll let it slide? You must not know who I am."

"I-I'm sorry, sir," the waiter stammered, backing up a step.

Winner's anger flared even more at the apology, a smirk twisting his lips as he felt a surge of superiority with the intent to humiliate this lowly staff member further.

"I'll show you what happens when you mess with me!" His fist clenched, muscles tensing as he pulled back his arm, ready to strike.

The waiter looked terrified. People around the lounge bar area were watching, some too scared to step in, and others too entertained by what was about to happen.

Just as Winner was about to punch, someone grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"That's enough." The man’s voice was steady, commanding.

The grip was strong and wouldn't let go. Winner turned quickly, staring at the man who dared to stop him. This was someone Winner had never seen before. He looked calm, but his hold on Winner's wrist tightened slightly.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Winner barked, his voice louder than before and wrenching his arm free and taking a step forward, trying to tower over him, but the man didn’t back down.

"Someone who's not going to let you act like a child and throw a tantrum because you didn’t get your way." The man's voice was steady, and he didn’t raise it, but it carried through the room.

"You think bullying a waiter makes you tough? Pathetic."

The man stepped forward and turned to the waiter and nodded, silently assuring him that everything was fine now. The waiter, still shaking, quickly retreated to the back.

"You—" Winner started, but the man cut him off.

"You’ve had enough." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, though still loud enough for the people nearby to hear.

"You're just throwing a fit because someone didn’t kiss your boots. Grow up."

The air around them was thick with tension. Winner was at a loss for words. No one ever talked to him like this. No one ever dared.

Winner was proud of his status, power, and the fact that no one dared to challenge him. But now, this stranger stood before him, unfazed and unbothered by his presence.

"You don't know who you're messing with," Winner hissed, trying to maintain his authority.

A murmur rippled through the bar as eyes darted between Winner and the man. Winner stared at the man, his jaw tight, but the man turned and walked away, leaving Winner standing there, speechless.

How could someone so brazenly disrespect him in front of everyone?

As Winner stood there, furious, his eyes fixed on the man who had just left, leaving him embarrassed. The man was wearing the same uniform as the other workers. The room buzzed with whispers, but no one was brave enough to step in.