Bangkok's summer heat clung to the air like a second skin. Even in the early morning, the sidewalks steamed, and Win was already regretting his choice of long sleeves. Clutching his messenger bag, he stepped through the sleek glass doors of Nebula Designs, his heart hammering with equal parts excitement and nerves.
The office was modern and minimalist, all polished concrete, tall windows, and potted monstera plants. It smelled faintly of coffee and fresh print paper.
"Win, right?" A woman in a loose white shirt greeted him with a wide smile. "I'm Belle, HR. Come, I'll show you around."
As Belle guided him through the airy corridors, introducing him to designers, developers, and interns, Win kept catching snippets of gossip. One sentence repeated more than once:
> "Still haven't seen the CEO, right?"
"I heard he's only in when he wants to be."
It was odd. Nebula Designs was small enough that a CEO's presence should be noticeable. But apparently, no one had seen the elusive Phuchit Rattanasak in months—only his email directives and occasional late-night Slack messages.
Win was led to a shared working pod — a set of four desks arranged in a cross, divided by half-walls. Belle pointed toward the far end.
"That's where you'll be. You're working directly under Khun Phu, the consultant. He's also leading the upcoming Sojo project — big client."
Belle paused, lowering her voice. "Don't take it personally if he's... quiet. He's not the chatty type."
Win nodded. "Got it."
As he settled into his seat, he noticed someone already sitting at the opposite desk. Dark-haired, sharply dressed in a black mandarin-collared shirt, eyes focused on his laptop. His presence was commanding, even in stillness.
"Um, hi. I'm Win. Tawin Kittisak." He offered a small bow from his seat.
The man glanced up. His gaze was calm and unreadable, like still water in a deep well.
"Phu." A pause. "Welcome."
Then, back to typing.
Win blinked. So this is him. The mysterious consultant.
Something about Phu unsettled him — not in a bad way, but in the way that made his stomach twist slightly. He was handsome, yes, but more than that — he carried himself like someone used to control. Used to watching.
Win felt watched, even when Phu's eyes were no longer on him.
---
The rest of the day was a blur of onboarding, orientation slides, and emails. By late afternoon, Win's brain was mush, and he needed coffee like air.
He stepped into the break room and nearly bumped into Phu, who was pouring himself a cup of black coffee.
"Sorry!" Win stepped back.
Phu barely moved. "No harm."
Win tried to ease the awkwardness. "You like it black?"
Phu raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"
"No!" Win laughed nervously. "Just intense. Like your type would be whiskey over ice and long silences."
There was a pause.
Then, unexpectedly, Phu gave the barest curve of a smile. "Accurate."
Win stared for a second too long. Phu's jawline, the way his shirt clung to the outline of lean muscle — it made Win's mouth feel dry.
"I prefer sweet things," Win said quietly, holding his cup of caramel macchiato. "But I'm told that's predictable."
"You're new. You'll learn to like bitter."
There was something in the way Phu said it. Not harsh. Just... honest.
As Phu left the room, brushing past him, Win caught the faintest whiff of cologne — sandalwood and something darker, more expensive.
---
That night, Win lay in his condo bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it whirred lazily above.
His thoughts kept circling back to Khun Phu.
The silence. The smile. The way his eyes had flicked toward Win's lips when he spoke.
Had he imagined that?
Win shifted under his blanket, aware of the ache starting to build low in his stomach. His hand drifted downward, slowly, teasingly, as he let his mind replay that moment in the break room.
Those eyes. That voice. That mouth...
His breathing quickened.
He didn't even know who Phu really was.
But god, he wanted to.