On TUESDAY Morning
Pete was late.
He hadn't meant to be, but his alarm had betrayed him, and Sky's text about morning review meetings sent him sprinting through the lobby with a half-zipped bag and coffee splashing dangerously close to his shirt.
His bag was slung over one shoulder, shirt slightly untucked, hair still damp from his rushed shower. He was late—and he knew it.
As he turned the corner toward the elevator bank, he saw one of the lifts already closing.
His heart jumped.
"Hold the elevator!" he called, breathless, as he rounded the corner—
The doors were almost shut.
And then—
The silver panels froze.
Then, slowly, they slid open again.
Inside, standing still and composed, was Vegas.
Pete came to an abrupt stop.
He hadn't expected that.
Not him.
Not this early.
Not after everything.
Vegas didn't speak at first. He just held the 'door open' button, eyes steady on Pete.
Then, with a voice that was low—not cold this time—he said, "Come on in."
Pete stepped inside, heart knocking a little harder than it should. "Thanks," he mumbled, brushing hair from his forehead.
He turned toward the panel and reached for the button, but it was already pressed.
They were going to the same floor.
The doors closed.
Silence.
Then:
"Morning," Vegas said suddenly.
Just one word.
Soft.
Casual.
But it made Pete freeze.
Pete blinked.
"Morning," he answered, voice soft. Cautious.
A pause.
Vegas didn't look at him—just kept his gaze ahead. But Pete noticed his hand shift slightly at his side, brushing lightly against Pete's arm.
A flicker. Not accidental.
Pete's heart stumbled.
He stayed still. Not pulling away. Not sure if he should.
The floor numbers ticked up. 5... 6...
Vegas said nothing else. But the air felt heavier. Warmer, somehow.
8...
Pete let out a tiny breath. He didn't know what this was.
He stared at the closed doors, trying not to look beside him.
His chest was tight, but not in a bad way.
Just confused.
Surprised.
Maybe a little... flustered.
When the doors opened again on their floor, Vegas stepped out first.
But then he paused, glanced over his shoulder—not with a smirk, not with indifference.
YOU ARE READING
From Frost to Flame
RomanceVegas 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...
