CHAPTER 2

The Man in the Boardroom

One week.

Seven days.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours of pretending that nothing had happened.

Pafon told himself it was a mistake.

A reckless, alcohol-influenced, one-time decision with a stranger whose name he didn’t even know.

People made mistakes.

Normal people made worse ones.

He would survive this.

He buried himself in internship preparation — revising company profiles, memorizing corporate structures, practicing polite smiles in the mirror like his future depended on it.

Because it did.

And yet…

Every quiet moment betrayed him.

The memory came back too clearly.

The steady gaze.

The deep voice.

The way those two words had sounded.

Are you sure?

He squeezed his eyes shut one night, groaning into his pillow.

“Stop thinking about him.”

It was over.

Done.

Finished.

Universe closed.

—

Monday morning arrived like judgment day.

The company building stood tall and polished, glass reflecting sunlight like it had something to prove.

Vareesin Group.

Prestigious.

Powerful.

Intimidating.

Pafon adjusted his tie for the third time in the lobby, trying not to look like someone who had Googled “How to Act Professional” at 2 a.m.

Focus on your career.

Forget the past.

You’re here to work, not relive bad decisions.

The interns were guided into a massive conference room — sleek table, leather chairs, screens lining the walls.

Senior executives were already present.

And the atmosphere shifted immediately.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just… quietly.

People straightened.

Whispers stopped.

The door opened.

Polished black shoes stepped inside first.

Then a tailored dark suit.

Then—

Him.

Pafon’s soul left his body.

No.

No.

No no no no.

The air felt too thin.

The man from that night walked in as if he owned the building.

Because apparently—

He did.

He took the seat at the head of the table.

Calm. Composed. Untouchable.

Someone spoke formally.

“Please welcome our CEO, Mr. Patlom Vareesin.”

CEO.

CEO?

CEO.

Pafon’s heartbeat attempted escape.

This is a nightmare.

This is alcohol revenge.

This is karma.

He lowered his head instantly, staring at his notebook like it had personally betrayed him.

Do not look up.

If you don’t look, maybe he’ll forget your face.

Maybe CEOs don’t remember random—

“I expect discipline. Intelligence. And initiative.”

The voice was the same.

Controlled.

Deep.

Professional.

Pafon swallowed.

He dared to glance up.

Patlom’s gaze swept across the room calmly.

Then—

Stopped.

On him.

Not long.

Not obvious.

But long enough.

There was no shock in his expression.

No anger.

Just something dangerously close to amusement.

So this is where you ran to, those eyes seemed to say.

Pafon looked back down immediately, heart racing like he’d just committed corporate treason.

—

After the meeting, department assignments were announced.

Names were called one by one.

“Marketing.”

“Finance.”

“Operations.”

Then—

“Pafon Rattana — Office of the CEO.”

The room went silent.

Then whispers.

“Office of the CEO?”

“Why him?”

“Did he top the selection?”

Pafon blinked.

Excuse me?

There must be another Pafon.

There had to be.

There wasn’t.

His legs felt weak as an assistant approached.

“Mr. Patlom would like to see you.”

Of course he would.

Why wouldn’t he?

This is fine.

This is completely fine.

He walked toward the CEO’s office like a man approaching execution.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Silence.

Patlom sat behind a large desk, reviewing a file as if this were a perfectly ordinary Monday.

“Sit,” he said calmly.

Pafon sat.

Rigid.

Like a wooden plank with anxiety issues.

Patlom finally looked up.

Slowly.

Studying him.

There was something unsettling about being examined like that in broad daylight.

“Are you pretending not to know me?”

The voice was low.

Measured.

Testing.

Pafon’s brain short-circuited.

“N-no, sir. I mean— I mean yes— I mean—”

Why are you speaking?

Stop speaking.

He cleared his throat. “I mean, I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

Smooth.

Very smooth.

Patlom leaned back slightly, one brow lifting.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

Heat rushed to Pafon’s face.

“That was— That was a misunderstanding.”

“Was it?”

The faintest smile appeared.

Not warm.

Not cruel.

Just… entertained.

The power dynamic shifted heavily in the room.

At the party, they had been strangers in the dark.

Here—

Patlom was CEO.

Authority.

Control.

And Pafon was an intern trying not to evaporate.

Patlom folded his hands on the desk.

“Relax. I don’t mix personal matters with business.”

Relief flickered briefly.

Then Patlom added smoothly—

“Unless business requires personal attention.”

Pafon nearly inhaled his own tie.

“I assure you, sir, I am fully committed to professionalism.”

“Oh?” Patlom’s gaze sharpened slightly. “You weren’t that committed last week.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Pafon wanted the floor to open.

Patlom studied his flustered expression with clear interest.

Then, calmly—

“You will report directly to me. Your performance will determine how long you stay.”

There it was.

Not a threat.

A challenge.

“Yes, sir.”

“You may go.”

Pafon stood too quickly, almost tripping over the chair. He caught himself just in time.

Dignity: 0.

As he reached the door—

“Pafon.”

He froze.

“Yes, sir?”

Patlom’s gaze softened — only slightly.

“Next time you decide to disappear…”

A pause.

“At least leave a name.”

Pafon fled.

—

Outside the office, he leaned against the wall, heart pounding.

This wasn’t just a stranger.

This wasn’t just a memory.

This was power.

Real power.

He suddenly felt the gap between them.

Status.

Wealth.

Authority.

What had he been thinking?

Someone like him should not be involved with someone like that.

He straightened his posture.

Focus on work.

Keep distance.

No mistakes.

—

Inside the office, Patlom stood by the window overlooking the city.

His reflection stared back at him.

Composed.

Strategic.

Patient.

A faint smirk touched his lips.

“You thought you could disappear?”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

Not angry.

Not offended.

Interested.

He tapped his fingers lightly against the glass.

He would not chase.

He never chased.

But he did choose.

And this time—

He had chosen.

And he would not let Pafon run again.

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