Be my S̶̶l̶̶a̶̶v̶̶e̶ || Book-I ||

The confession

It’s been three days since that night in the garden, three days since Pete and I kissed, and ever since, he’s been avoiding me. He hasn’t spoken to me once, not even when he brings my coffee—scratch that, he doesn’t even bring it himself anymore. He always sends someone else.

I can’t figure out why he’s doing this, why he’s pulling away from me. I can’t take it anymore. It’s been driving me insane. I’ve been dying to see him, to talk to him, so I finally decided to look for him.

First, I went to his room, but he wasn’t there. So, I headed for the kitchen, hoping I’d find him there.

As I approached, I heard his voice, light and easy, "Haha, I was just... thinking about something. I wasn’t paying attention."

That’s when I stepped into the kitchen—and what I saw made my bloodboil.

The head cook was holding Pete’s hand.

I stood by the dining table, my grip tightening on the back of the nearest chair. How dare he touch Pete. My Pete.

To get their attention, I grabbed the glass sitting on the table and let it fall, shattering it on the floor.

Both Pete and the cook snapped their heads in my direction. My eyes locked on Pete. He glanced at me, then at the broken glass, before looking back at me again, his expression unreadable.

"Sorry, the glass slipped out of my hand," i said in a flat tone, my expression unreadable.

"Khun Vegas," the cook greeted me with a respectful bow, but Pete—he stood there silently, avoiding my gaze.

"I’ll have the maid clean this up," the cook said, turning to Pete as if to give him instructions.

If he even thinks about ordering Pete to clean that glass, I swear…

But what pushed me over the edge was when the cook put his hand on Pete’s shoulder, saying,

"You stay here, don’t worry about it." Pete smiled at him and nodded.

He smiled at him. He smiled at someone else. Pete is mine, and his smile? That’s for me—not anyone else.

I was about to march over to Pete, but then my phone rang. Irritated, I excused myself, stepping out into the hall, where I could still see Pete from the couch.

Sitting down, I kept my eyes on him, unable to concentrate on the conversation happening on the other end of the phone.

Pete looked especially cute today, and for a brief moment, our eyes met. But, just as quickly, he looked away, and the frustration gnawed at me.

And then—the cook tapped Pete’s shoulder again. Seriously? A surge of possessiveness flared up inside me.

Who the hell does this guy think he is, touching Pete like that?

"Khun Vegas, are you listening?" The client’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes, I’m listening continue" I muttered, though my focus was far from the conversation.

And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I watched Pete give the cook one of his bright, dimpled smiles. My smile. The smile I hadn’t seen in days. I clenched the pillow beside me, my patience thinning.

When the cook reached for Pete’s hand again, that was it. I’d had enough.

I stood up, stormed back into the kitchen without a second thought, and grabbed Pete’s hand, pulling him away from the cook.

Without a word, I dragged Pete out of the kitchen with me. Enough was enough—Pete was mine, and no one was going to stand in the way of that.

"K-Khun Vegas..." Pete stammered, trying to pull his hand free from mine. But I wasn’t about to let go.