Bangkok glimmered beneath the night sky, neon lights bleeding against the glass towers, the hum of motorbikes and tuk-tuks filling the humid air.
Inside her marble palace, Sanya Rattanakosin could not sleep.
She sat in her room, the city glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but her mind was elsewhere.
On a dim roadside.
On a stranger who had made her heart stumble.
On the taste of silence that had burned her tongue when, for the first time in her life, she hadn't known what to say.
Her father's guests had laughed and toasted downstairs at the casino earlier, but she had slipped away.
She had no patience for dull men in suits who thought expensive champagne could impress her.
None of them mattered.
None of them had ever managed to shake her.
But she did.
The woman with messy hair, tattoos across her arms, lips shining with sweat, who had fixed her car like it was nothing and walked away as if she hadn't just left the richest heiress in Bangkok completely undone.
Sanya clenched her fists, frustration curling in her chest.
"Find her," she had snapped at her driver the night it happened.
And when he hesitated, she hissed it again: "Find her. I don't care how."
Now she paced, phone in hand, waiting for updates.
It was absurd, she didn't chase people.
People chased her.
Lovers, friends, rivals, they all came to her doorstep.
But this woman had left her standing in the heat, silent, humiliated, wanting.
And Sanya Rattanakosin was not a woman who let herself want without getting it.
On the other side of the city, Lek Saetang lit her second cigarette of the evening, exhaling smoke into the humid air.
Her world couldn't be more different from Sanya's glittering palace.
Above the tattoo parlor where she worked, her one-room apartment was cramped, the paint peeling, the fan rattling overhead.
She didn't mind.
Rent was cheap, and it was her own.
Independence mattered more than luxury.
Her routine was the same: wake up, work, take whatever jobs came, fixing engines, sometimes helping neighbors with whatever odd work they had.
When stress piled up, she smoked.
When bills pressed hard, she drank cheap whiskey with the people who kept her company.
Tonight, she was outside her usual bar, the neon sign flickering above, the music muffled behind the door.
Lek leaned lazily against the railing, cigarette glowing between her fingers, tattoos glinting faintly under the streetlight.
Beside her stood Nam, a tall, curvy woman with crimson lipstick and a laugh that carried over the traffic.
Nam pressed a glass of whiskey into Lek's hand, her manicured nails grazing against Lek's tattooed knuckles.
"On me," Name said with a playful grin. "Again."
Lek raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"You keep this up and I'll start thinking you're trying to get me drunk."
"Maybe I am." Nam leaned in, her perfume strong and sweet.
"Or maybe I just like watching you when you drink."
Lek chuckled, taking a slow drag from her cigarette before answering.
Smoke curled past her lips, brushing close to Nam's face.
"Dangerous habit, Nam. You'll go broke giving me free drinks."
"Please," Nam scoffed, her red lips curling into a smirk.
"Do you know how many men in there are begging to buy me a glass? I can afford to spoil one person who doesn't bore me to death."
Lek tilted her head, her boyish grin sharp. "And that's me?"
"That's you," Nam purred, sliding her hand briefly across Lek's arm, tracing the ink.
"Besides, you're good company. And when you're short on cash, you don't exactly turn me down, do you?"
Lek snorted softly, flicking ash onto the ground.
"True enough. You're useful."
Nam laughed, slapping her arm lightly.
"Useful? Is that all?"
Lek gave her a sideways glance, her lips curving faintly.
"For now."
Nam leaned closer, whispering in her ear, "Maybe one day I'll convince you I'm more than that."
Lek smirked but didn't answer.
She wasn't blind, Nam was sexy, confident, dripping with charm.
But for Lek, it was simple.
Nam helped her out when times were tough.
In return, She gave her attention, let her flirt, let her imagine.
It was convenient, uncomplicated.
And that was all Lek wanted: uncomplicated.
________________
Across the street, unnoticed by either of them, a man watched carefully.
He was one of Sanya's men, sent out to comb Bangkok for the mysterious mechanic who had fixed her car.
He had almost given up for the night, but then he saw her: the tattoos, the messy hair, the cigarette dangling carelessly from her lips.
He recognized her instantly.
Pulling out his phone, he snapped a quick photo, zooming in on the sharp jawline, the ink stretching across her arm as she leaned close to Nam.
Then he dialed.
"Khun San," he said as soon as Sanya answered. "We've found her."
Sanya was lounging on her balcony, silk robe wrapped around her, glass of wine in hand when the call came.
Her eyes sharpened at the words. "Where?"
He gave her the address.
He described what he saw, Lek smoking outside a bar, another woman draped close to her, slipping drinks into her hand, leaning in like they were lovers.
Sanya's fingers tightened around her glass, jealousy spiking hot and fast in her chest.
She imagined it too vividly, the cigarette smoke, the way that stranger probably laughed in that husky voice, the tattoos under another woman's hand.
Her lips curved into a slow smirk.
Of course. Of course someone like her would be surrounded by admirers. Of course she would lean against a bar wall like she owned it, cool and careless, letting women fawn over her without a care in the world.
But it didn't matter.
Because now, Sanya had her.
"Good," Sanya said finally, her voice smooth as silk.
"Very good." She leaned back in her chair, eyes glinting against the city lights.
"Leave her. Don't approach. I'll handle it."
She ended the call, her smirk widening as her plan began to unfold in her mind.
If Lek Saetang wouldn't come to her world willingly, then Sanya would pull her in.
Piece by piece.
A job at the casino, perhaps. Something that tied her to Sanya, forced her into proximity.
And once she had her close, she would see how long that cool, untouchable act lasted.
Because Sanya Rattanakosin didn't chase people. She collected them.
But this time… this time was different.
This time, she wanted to win.
______________
Bangkok's morning heat pressed heavy against the cracked window of Lek's apartment.
She sat on the edge of her mattress, tugging her boots on with slow, tired motions.
The ashtray beside her was full, the smell clinging to the air.
Rent was due in a week.
Her phone screen lit up with three messages she didn't want to read:
one from her landlord, one from a debt collector, and one from Nam.
She ignored them all.
By noon, she was leaning against her motorbike outside a mechanic's shop, grease staining her hands, cigarette hanging from her mouth.
Survival was routine now.
Fixing things, lifting things, hustling where she could. She never expected anything else.
That's why the man in a pressed suit looked so out of place when he walked up to her.
"Miss Saetang?" he asked, his voice smooth, professional.
Lek squinted at him through the smoke.
"Who's asking?"
He offered a business card, black, embossed in gold letters.
Rattanakosin Casino
Lek's brows knit together.
"The hell would your casino want with me?"
"We'd like to offer you a position," the man said simply.
"Your skills could be… useful."
Lek barked out a laugh, sharp and incredulous.
"My skills? You see a mechanic with cigarette stains and think, ah yes, perfect for your fancy casino?"
She shook her head, exhaling smoke.
"Nah. Wrong girl."
"You should at least hear the details," the man pressed, unfazed.
"The pay is generous. Stability. Benefits."
That word stability caught on something deep inside her, something she didn't like to admit she wanted.
Still, her pride bristled harder.
"Sounds like a scam," Lek muttered, flicking her ash.
"Go find another fool."
The man bowed slightly, but there was no frustration in his face. Only patience.
"The offer will remain open, Miss Saetang. I'll be in touch."
He walked away, leaving the business card in her hand.
Lek turned it over, scoffing, but for some reason, she didn't throw it away.
She slipped it into her pocket, as if her fingers betrayed her better judgment.
While, Inside the Rattanakosin penthouse, Sanya lounged against the balcony railing, a glass of red wine in her hand. Bangkok stretched endlessly below her is bright, crowded, and chaotic.
Her assistant entered quietly.
"She refused."
Sanya's lips curved, slow and knowing.
"Of course she did."
The assistant frowned.
"Shall I withdraw?"
"No." Sanya sipped her wine, eyes sharp.
"She's not the type to be lured easily. But she's also not the type to throw away a lifeline when she's drowning. She'll think about it. And when she does, she'll realize she has no choice but to grab it."
"And when she does?"
Sanya's smirk deepened, shadowed with something unreadable.
"Then," she murmured, "I'll finally see why she makes me feel this way."
She set her glass down, tapping one manicured finger against the stem.
The feeling still unsettled her.
Desire?
Curiosity?
Something more dangerous?
Whatever it was, she wasn't going to let it slip away.
_____________
That night, Lek sat outside the bar, staring at the black business card like it was mocking her.
Nam slid into the seat beside her, pressing a fresh drink into her hand.
"What's that?" Nam asked, leaning close.
"Trouble," Lek muttered.
"Mm, I like trouble." Nam's smile curved wicked.
"Tell me."
Lek shook her head, slipping the card into her pocket.
"Just some rich people game. Not for me."
Nam studied her, then smirked knowingly.
"Maybe it is for you. You'd look hot in a suit."
Lek laughed, low and dry, but the sound died quickly.
Because the truth was gnawing at her.
She needed the money.
She needed a way out of barely surviving.
And maybe, just maybe, a part of her wanted to know why a casino, why they had come looking for her...
And then, far above, in a penthouse, Sanya watched the city lights flicker.
Somewhere down there, the woman who had stolen her composure was holding the bait she had laid out.
And soon, very soon, Sanya would have her exactly where she wanted her.