CHAPTER 3

Peach had always been a creature of the night.

Sure, he could force himself out of bed in the morning if a shoot demanded it, but when it came to work that required real focus—photo editing, layout composition, video cutting—his brain only truly woke up after sunset. Nighttime was quiet, uninterrupted, perfect for creativity.

So even after returning from the event completely exhausted, Peach still sat down in front of his computer. One draft turned into another, and before he realized it, the sky outside his window was already beginning to lighten. When he finally collapsed into bed, it was well past five in the morning.

His next job wasn’t until the afternoon. Staying up all night shouldn’t have been a problem.

What he hadn’t counted on was his phone ringing at ten a.m.

Half-asleep, Peach almost ignored it. He rolled over, burying his face into the pillow—until he caught a glimpse of the name flashing on the screen.

Theerakit Kian Arseny.

He was instantly awake.

Those smoky gray eyes had haunted him all night. The memory of them had nagged at the back of his mind, restless and persistent, until he had dragged himself out of bed at dawn and gone digging through his old work archives. It had taken him less than ten minutes to confirm what his instincts already knew.

The man from last night—the one radiating danger—was the CEO of Arseny, the luxury brand Peach was currently working with.

His temporary boss.

So when that name appeared on his screen, everything clicked into place. His phone being taken last night. The unexpected call. The strange sense of familiarity he hadn’t been able to explain.

The real question was why.

Why was Theerakit calling him instead of Aran?

Peach didn’t let those questions escape his head. He dragged himself up, washed his face, took a rushed shower, and stood in front of his closet—staring.

He hesitated far longer than he should have.

Peach lived simply. Quietly. He avoided nightlife, preferred staying home, and when he traveled, he did it alone—camera in hand, chasing silence instead of crowds. His wardrobe reflected that simplicity: basic T-shirts, neutral pants, functional button-ups. He owned exactly one suit, reserved for emergencies.

Now, faced with meeting a half-Russian mafia boss in broad daylight, his minimalist lifestyle suddenly felt like a disadvantage.

This wasn’t a date. Not even close. But showing up too casually felt disrespectful—while wearing a full suit felt ridiculous.

In the end, nearly an hour passed before he settled on slim black pants and an oversized gray button-up. He skipped coffee entirely, adjusting the strap of his crossbody bag as he hurried downstairs, not daring to keep the other man waiting.

The moment Peach stepped outside, a sleek black luxury car rolled to a stop beside him.

The rear window lowered just enough for him to see those smoky gray eyes.

His spine straightened automatically. Peach lowered his head in a polite nod and walked toward the car. His hand hovered over the front passenger door.

This wasn’t hospitality. This wasn’t courtesy.

This felt more like a summons.

Sitting farther away increased his chances of escape—if things went wrong.

He opened the front door.

“Sit in the back.”

The command was low, calm, and absolute.

Peach froze.

For half a second, he considered refusing. Then his brain supplied a vivid image of dying before he even got coffee.

He stepped back out, circled the car, and slid into the back seat—resigned.

He sat stiffly, brows furrowed, mind racing. Had he offended Theerakit last night? Had laughing crossed some invisible line? If this was retaliation, why daylight?

“You’re tense,” Thee remarked, eyes sharp. “You weren’t like this last night.”

Peach forced a polite smile. “I might’ve had too much to drink. Sorry if I said anything inappropriate.”

“I didn’t say it was inappropriate.”

The teasing edge in Thee’s voice made Peach bristle.

“Well, last night I didn’t know who you were,” Peach blurted, running a hand through his hair.

Thee paused, then smiled faintly. “So you’re afraid now?”

“I was afraid last night too,” Peach replied flatly. “Anyone would be scared of someone flanked by armed bodyguards.”

“Then nothing’s changed.”

Peach rolled his eyes.

This man’s idea of normal was exhausting.

“So,” Peach said, exhaling. “Why did you call me, Mr. Arseny?”

Thee watched him with open amusement. Even the driver glanced at the rearview mirror, clearly startled by his boss’s mood.

“How’s your arm?”

Peach blinked. “It’s fine. Just a scratch. I already got the shot.”

A pause. “I called about the model.”

Of course.

“You told me to start by flirting,” Thee continued calmly. “Teach me.”

Peach stared at him.

“You… want me to teach you how to flirt?”

“Yes.”

Whatever fear remained evaporated, replaced by disbelief. “Sir, I got dumped two months ago for being ‘too boring.’ You want me as your dating coach?”

Thee smiled. “You give good advice. And you’re close to him.”

Peach opened his mouth, then closed it.

Unfortunately, Thee wasn’t wrong.

With a resigned sigh, Peach leaned back. “What do you even think of Aran?”

Thee considered. “He’s close to my type. I wouldn’t mind sleeping with him.”

“And anything else?”

“Interesting. Pretty.”

Peach smacked his forehead.

“But he said he doesn’t want a one-night stand,” Peach pressed. “That matters. You can’t just force people into things.”

Silence stretched.

“You said he’s different from the others,” Peach continued carefully. “So why not try something normal? Talk to him. Get to know him.”

“But sex is my focus.”