Vegas Theerapanyakul is wealthy, powerful, cold as ice, and haunted by a past betrayal that left him wary of love. When Pete Phongsakorn, a hopeful and warm-hearted architecture student, steps into his world, sparks fly-but not the kind that ignites...
It had been one week since Pete joined the office. The first few days were a blur of introductions, new projects, and adjusting to the fast-paced environment. Over the weekend, he'd spent some time with Porsche, who insisted he needed more "grown-up" clothes for his new "grown-up" job. After a successful shopping trip, Pete had picked up a few outfits that he hoped screamed capable professional more than lost college kid.
The rest of the weekend was spent recharging at home-much needed after the whirlwind of his first week.
And now it was Monday again. Pete woke up early, already familiar with the routine, but somehow, the start of a new week still filled him with that excited, nervous energy. He chose a simple yet sharp outfit: a crisp white shirt tucked into his favorite pair of blue jeans. To add just a bit of flair, he threw on his light blue shoes, casual but still presentable.
Bag in one hand, blazer draped over his arm, Pete took a steadying breath as he stepped out of his apartment. Alright, here we go. Let's make this week even better.
By the time he reached the office, it was already 9:55 AM, and thanks to a late bus and Monday morning traffic, he had barely made it on time. He hurried through the entrance, practically speed-walking across the lobby, his gaze fixed on the elevator ahead. But as he got closer, his eyes widened-the doors were already closing.
No, no, no! Pete broke into a sprint, the sound of his footsteps echoing across the marble floors. He jabbed the button with his free hand, but it was too late; the doors shut with an almost mocking finality.
He sighed defeated and slumped back, deciding he'd just wait for the next one.
Just as Pete was about to resign himself to waiting, the elevator doors reopened with a soft ding.
"Come inside," a low, smooth voice called.
Pete stepped in without really looking up, muttering a quick, "Thanks," as he made his way to the back of the elevator.
"Which floor?" the voice asked.
"Uh, fourth, please," Pete replied, still catching his breath. He noticed a hand moving to press the button-his eyes briefly catching the gleam of a sleek, expensive watch on the wrist. His curiosity got the best of him, and as he lifted his gaze, he took in a series of polished details.
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First, he saw immaculate black shoes, shiny and elegant, leading up to well-tailored, navy-blue trousers that fell in sharp lines. His gaze traveled upward to a casual, checkered double-breasted suit paired with a crisp white shirt and a maroon necktie. The watch on the man's wrist looked like it could cost a month of Pete's salary, and his presence was calm but commanding.
"Thank you," Pete managed, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried not to make direct eye contact. Something about the man's composed aura left him a bit flustered.
