5

Amon entered the Acainé Holdings building hummed with energy as his steps echoing across the polished marble floors. The pristine lobby—bathed in glass and steel—mirrored his presence: calculated, commanding, unshakable.

Staff moved out of his way instinctively as he strode toward the elevators, adjusting his cuffs with a practiced calm. Today's schedule was precise, but the unexpected had a way of creeping into perfect systems.

Inside the boardroom, Hiran was already waiting. He had arrived earlier than scheduled, seating himself near the window, hoping the outward calm of the Bangkok skyline might help suppress his nerves. It didn't.

Every click of Amon's approaching shoes echoed louder in his ears.

When the door opened, Amon entered without ceremony—no greeting, no unnecessary pleasantries. His very presence shifted the energy in the room, thickening the air like a storm cloud.

Hiran stood abruptly, instinct driving him, though he forced a casual smile.

"Mr. Acainé," Hiran greeted smoothly, clearing his throat when his voice caught. "Thank you for your time."

Amon's gaze cut through him as he settled at the head of the table. His hands moved with precision as he flipped open the collaboration proposal without lifting his eyes.

"Sit," Amon said coldly, the single word ringing with authority.

Hiran complied immediately, settling into the chair opposite Amon. He laced his fingers tightly in his lap, the pressure grounding him as Amon's silence stretched into eternity.

The calm, steady way Amon read through the papers only amplified the heat crawling up Hiran's neck. He could feel his pulse thundering behind his ears. The man exuded power in a way that was suffocating—and deeply, frustratingly captivating.

Finally, Amon looked up.

"The numbers are fine," he said simply, his tone flat and final.

Hiran exhaled softly, though the tightness in his chest didn't ease. "Efficiency is essential in any collaboration," he offered, his voice smooth—desperate to mask the tremor he felt rising.

Amon leaned back slightly, his dark gaze pinning Hiran to his seat. "You didn't come here to discuss efficiency."

The accusation, though quiet, hit like a hammer. Hiran faltered, his lips parting as words failed to find him.

"I... wanted to ensure we aligned on expectations," he replied finally, though the words rang hollow.

Amon's brow arched faintly. "Expectations? Or something else?"

The question hit deeper than it should have, and Hiran's pulse spiked. The heat at the base of his throat climbed higher, prickling his skin.

"I don't waste time, Amon."

The name slipped out—soft and far too intimate.

Amon's gaze sharpened instantly, his expression darkening. "Careful."

The single word left no room for misinterpretation. Hiran swallowed hard, his collar feeling impossibly tight as beads of sweat formed at his temple.

The silence stretched—heavy, suffocating. Hiran's breathing quickened just slightly, his confidence eroding as Amon's calm composure remained unshaken.

Hiran shifted, forcing himself to lean back casually, though his movements betrayed his tension. "I just believe... some matters benefit from personal attention."

Amon's lips quirked into the faintest smirk, though it was far from amused.

"If you're suggesting something, Lunalilo, say it clearly. Otherwise, please leave."

Hiran faltered. His carefully crafted words shattered against Amon's calm authority, and the heat rising within him became unbearable.

For a moment, it felt like Amon could see everything—every hesitation, every unraveled edge—and he was doing it on purpose.

Hiran stood abruptly, avoiding Amon's gaze as his hands trembled faintly. "I'll leave the proposal with you."

Amon didn't move. His dark eyes followed Hiran as he turned toward the door, the sound of his uneven breathing echoing in his ears. Before stepping out, Hiran paused, glancing back as though pulled by invisible strings.

Amon was still watching him—silent, unmoving, and powerful.

"We'll speak again soon," Hiran murmured, though it felt more like a question than a statement.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Hiran exhaled sharply, his heart hammering in his chest. His body felt overheated, trembling with frustration—an unfamiliar vulnerability he couldn't shake.

Amon let a quiet snicker he knew exactly what he was doing.

The family estate was quiet when Kay stepped out of the shower. His day had been spent in restless silence, Amon's insistence that he "relax" ringing bitterly in his mind. He didn't know how to sit still, not when his thoughts refused to stop spinning.

The doorbell rang.

Kay frowned, wrapping a towel around his waist before stepping into the hallway. He opened the door, and there stood Khamron—uninvited, unbothered, and smirking as though the very sight of Kay had made his day.

"Late for a visit, Almeida," Kay said coldly, already irritated.

Khamron stepped inside uninvited, glancing around casually as though he belonged. "Prawan said there was something for KM&C here. I came to get it."

Kay narrowed his gaze instantly. "Liar."

Khamron grinned, his eyes flicking briefly to Kay's damp hair and bare shoulders before lingering on the towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

"You don't seem ready for guests," Khamron teased softly, his voice dropping as he stepped closer.

Kay's jaw tightened, his breath evening deliberately as his mind buzzed. "You're testing me again."

Khamron tilted his head, his voice smooth, mocking. "And you're letting me. What does that say about you, Kay?"

The words hit like sparks to gasoline.

Before he could think, Kay's hand shot out, gripping the back of Khamron's neck. He yanked him forward, the sudden force stealing the smirk from Khamron's lips. Their faces were inches apart now—close enough that Kay could feel the heat of Khamron's skin.

Kay's voice was low, dangerous. "You don't know what you're asking for."

Khamron froze, his breath catching audibly as his smirk faltered. "Maybe I do."

The air between them pulsed—charged with something raw, dark, and unrestrained. Kay's grip tightened, his breathing sharp as the impulse flared—sensual and violent all at once.

For a split second, he nearly gave in—nearly let the control snap.

But Kay shoved Khamron back roughly instead, his voice a ragged growl. "Get out."

Khamron stumbled slightly, brushing himself off with a grin that didn't fully hide the flicker of unease behind his eyes.

"You're fun when you're angry," he teased softly, though his voice lacked its usual smugness. "See you soon, Kay."

He turned and strolled out, leaving Kay standing alone in the silence, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His hands trembled faintly, the weight of what almost happened sitting heavy on his shoulders.

Kay exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Control yourself," he muttered to himself.

But even he wasn't sure how long he could hold it.