CHAPTER 1

The flash pulsed in rhythm with the shutter, illuminating the model standing confidently before the backdrop. He was small-framed, his features delicate enough to blur the line between masculine and feminine—a well-known unisex model whose charm transcended gender. Each movement was fluid, effortless, perfectly matched to the expensive perfume he was promoting, embodying its identity with striking precision.

“Give me a little more confidence… yes, like that. Perfect.”

The voice behind the camera was calm and smooth, never wavering as the photographer continued shooting. After several more clicks, the camera finally lowered, and the man announced a short break to prepare for the next scene.

“Peach! How do I look? I totally nailed it, right?”

The model bounced toward him with childlike excitement, his exaggerated enthusiasm drawing a soft laugh from Peach, who casually turned the camera screen around.

“Don’t you trust me at all, Ran?” Peach teased, unhooking the camera from his neck as he sat down, letting the younger man eagerly scan through the photos.

Aran’s face lit up instantly, eyes sparkling as he stared at the images. “Of course I trust you! That’s why I couldn’t wait to see them. I already knew they’d be amazing.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

Peachayarat Janekit was one of the top photographers in the country—renowned for his ability to capture beauty where others failed to see it. Under his lens, even ordinary faces became unforgettable. Many models and actors owed their rise to fame to a handful of Peach’s photographs. Beyond talent, his reputation was spotless: professional, calm, polite, and scandal-free.

Ironically, the only part of his life that never went smoothly was love.

Three girlfriends. Three breakups. All for the same reason.

Peach had long accepted that romance simply wasn’t his strength.

“Are you coming to the wrap-up party tonight?” Aran asked, finally pulling his gaze from the screen. His eyes held a hopeful glint that made Peach smile despite himself.

Aran had known Peach since his early days in the industry—some even said Peach had helped launch his career. But to Peach, Aran was nothing more than a younger brother. An overly dramatic, possessive younger brother.

“Did you tell Tawan yet?” Peach asked flatly. “If you two start fighting again, I’m throwing you both out.”

Aran froze, guilt written all over his face. Without another word, he bolted toward the dressing room, no doubt to report in to his boyfriend.

Peach sighed and returned to work.

While waiting, he checked his phone, absentmindedly scrolling through news. A headline caught his attention—buzz surrounding a young half-Thai, half-Russian entrepreneur dominating the perfume and jewelry market.

Theerakit Kian Arseny.

Handsome, wealthy, brilliant. Infamous for his complicated love life.

Peach glanced at the perfume bottle on set and chuckled faintly. His boss truly knew how to build hype. Still, the chances of them ever meeting were close to zero. He pushed the thought aside and focused on finishing the shoot.

After work, Peach returned briefly to his condo before heading out again. His studio apartment was modest but neat—clean lines, muted colors, a reflection of his personality. He changed into a button-up shirt, left a few buttons undone, sprayed cologne, and headed out.

He wasn’t surprised his last relationship had ended. Peach wasn’t flashy. He didn’t make grand gestures. What he offered was stability, warmth, and quiet care.

People loved confiding in him. They trusted him.

But no one ever fell in love.

The memory of his ex’s words made him laugh bitterly as he drove into the city’s chaotic Friday traffic.

By the time he reached the restaurant-pub, the place was alive with music and chatter. It wasn’t a club—just energetic enough to feel warm. Tonight was a wrap party celebrating a long, exhausting photoshoot.

Peach took his seat quietly. Across from him sat Aran, greeting him with the enthusiasm of a puppy.

And right beside Aran was Tawan, shooting Peach a glare sharp enough to cut.

“If you keep staring like that,” Peach joked lightly, “I might end up pregnant.”

Tawan narrowed his eyes while tightening his arm around Aran in a clear display of possession. Peach merely chuckled and turned away.

Aran was dazzling—soft yet sharp, beautiful yet masculine. Tawan, on the other hand, was raw dominance incarnate. They were born to be main characters.

Peach, meanwhile, felt more like the supporting role.

After eating and nursing a drink, Peach decided to leave early. He headed to the restroom to freshen up—

—and froze.

Aran stood cornered by three men dressed in black.

Peach moved instantly, slipping between them and pulling Aran behind him. “Ran, where did you go?” he asked casually, gripping the younger man’s arm in warning. “Are you okay?”

He finally noticed the man leaning against the sink.

Tall. Mixed-race. Slicked-back dark hair. Smoke-gray eyes sharp enough to make Peach’s instincts scream danger. Tattoos peeked from rolled sleeves. Authority radiated from him, filling the cramped space.

Peach swallowed his fear and bowed politely. “I’m sorry if my friend caused trouble. Please don’t take it personally.”

Without waiting for permission, he dragged Aran out.

Once safe, Peach rounded on him. “What happened?”

“That guy tried to touch me!” Aran snapped. “I fought back!”

Peach barely held back a groan. Before he could respond, a hand shoved him aside violently.

Tawan.

He pulled Aran into his chest, fury blazing. Accusations flew. Peach tried to explain, but Tawan wouldn’t listen. He left with Aran in tow, throwing Peach a glare full of warning.

Peach stood there, stunned.

He hadn’t done anything wrong—but trouble kept finding him.

Avoiding Aran would be ideal, but with Aran now Arseny’s brand ambassador, that was impossible.

With a weary sigh, Peach headed to his car. Only then did he notice the cut on his hand. Searching his trunk for water, his thoughts drifted back to the man in the restroom.

Those smoke-gray eyes.

Dangerous. Hypnotic. Familiar.

“Need help?”

Peach startled, looking up—

—and found himself face-to-face with those very eyes.

Trouble, it seemed, wasn’t done with him yet.

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