Love Chase [Thai BL]

Teeradon arrived at work without his secretary having to call, but the moment he walked into the office and handed over a hastily scrawled license plate number, Toey immediately groaned.

"Which motorcycle rider are you feuding with now?"

Teeradon froze, impressed by his young secretary's perceptiveness since he hadn't said a word.

"How did you know?"

"Motorcycle plates are dead giveaways. Plus, you know Bangkok has more motorcycles than four-door sedans."

"Nothing beyond the capabilities of the brilliant and swift Mr. Toey," Teeradon praised. "Before ten o'clock. Out of the meeting room with answers," he ordered, then strode into his room.

Toey didn't argue, just lowered his head to study his desk and pursed his lips, grabbing documents while waiting for his boss to clear the workspace.

"Has the computer company owner shown up yet?" Teeradon shouted from his office. The young secretary sighed softly before answering, causing his boss to immediately stride back out, hands on hips.

"Then why didn't he wait? Why come so early? Where did he go? Did you tell him to come back?" Teeradon's voice sharpened.

"He didn't wait because he'd already waited too long. He came early because you said it was urgent. He's gone back to work now. Whether he'll return, he didn't say—and I forgot to ask for his mobile number." The secretary answered every questions in order smoothly, adding another piece of information: "Which should I handle first—the motorcycle or the computer guy?"

Teeradon stood frozen, thinking, glancing at his secretary with clouded eyes. The other man maintained a poker face, appearing to listen intently, though his hands fidgeted.

"What are you doing, Toey?" Teeradon asked, still undecided.

"Nothing." The secretary folded a paper and slipped it under a file.

"Handle both simultaneously. End the meeting with answers. If I'm satisfied, you can go home early this afternoon." Teeradon sighed and moved toward the door, but his secretary called out asking where he was going.

"To the meeting, obviously."

"Your files. And do you know where the meeting is?"

Teeradon remained rooted in place, eyes rolled, extending his hand for his secretary to rush over with the documents, then asked, "Any codes today? What did the big boss say?"

"Up to you, but whatever you decide, consider the company's interests first," Toey answered professionally. "Liquor before water."

"When will Dad and Tin start working?" Teeradon asked without waiting for an answer, shuffling out of the room, leaving his bright-faced young secretary watching with a knowing smile.

Toey knew Teeradon hated this job. But from working together, he could see his boss was capable—just needed close supervision.

Teeradon was completely different from his younger brother. He'd worked with Tinapong before, and while it was easier because Tinapong was competent and did nothing but 'work, work, work' without personal drama, being secretary to Teeradon was the most 'unpredictable' job he'd ever had with any executive.

What kind of person has drama every single day.

And what's this about a speed demon motorcyclist and a computer technician with pale skin, dark brows, prominent nose, and red lips? Don't tell me Teeradon's changed his type from actors, singers, and models to tough guys.

Wittawin jolted awake when his computer testing system chimed completion. During system checks, he'd use the waiting time to nap instead of reading or doing other activities.

After over two hours in the network room, the system repair had been easier than expected. Wittawin wouldn't need to return—his subordinates could handle the cleanup.

The young engineer rose, packed up, and left the tinted glass room. He chatted briefly with Kunanon Brewery's IT staff before pushing through the door and sighing softly, remembering he'd have to return to the front building to meet with the company president and apologize.

Wittawin walked slowly down the corridor, mind wandering, including thoughts about the 'background' of the 'company president' he'd learned from the IT staff.

…

"Mr. Teeradon is strict, but he's got a good heart," the male and female staff had explained about their boss.

"When Mr. Teeradon makes decisions, he's sharp and decisive. Everyone's scared, but he's reasonable," added Jintana, a bold woman who'd graduated from the same institute as Wittawin. "He's straightforward. Do good work and he'll reward you until your eyes pop out."

"Eyes pop out how?" her colleague asked.

"You've never done good work, so you wouldn't know. Like, you'd be wide-eyed and jaw-dropped because you never thought the president would be generous enough to give such big rewards. But don't mess up—the punishment's even worse." Jintana made a throat-slitting gesture.

…

Strict but kind-hearted—true or not, who knows? But from what I've seen, he seems more unreasonably bad-tempered.

What's his deal with me? Just dropping a wrench that grazed his head and it's this big a drama.

Teeradon nearly shouted when he emerged from the meeting room. Instead of the planned hour and fifteen minutes, they'd spent over two hours and still reached no agreement—meaning another meeting on the same topic.

I can't take this anymore. If I don't get outside for fresh air, I'll suffocate.

Peshwat. I should call Peshwat for drinks. But wait—last night at the pub, that half-Japanese newbie actor Reo slipped his number into my wallet when I paid for drinks. Better have fun with Reo before the pretty boy gets worn out.

Teeradon smiled, pulling out his phone to dial the young actor's number before the capable Mr. Toey could call.

The moment he lifted the phone and looked out the window toward the parking lot, Teeradon's jaw dropped. His phone-holding hand fell as he spotted the person he'd ordered his secretary to track down.

Twice that motorcycle had raced him. The first time, he hadn't caught the make or license plate, but it had definitely entered the company grounds. Last night, racing on the midnight streets, Teeradon was certain it was the same person. And now—same bike, same rider—about to start the engine and drive away.

Must stop him. Must detain him. At least demand compensation for making my Aston Martin DB9 scrape against that trash can.

And I want to see his face properly. Every time I only see his rear.

But it was too late. Teeradon cursed furiously, realizing he'd never catch the speed demon from the fourth floor, and his capable secretary's phone was busy. By the time he could use the meeting room phone to order the gate guards to detain the rider, it would be too late. He could only watch the BMW slowly pull away.

Heartbreaking.

But what a gorgeous ass..

Teeradon's mood soured further when he returned to the office and his secretary reported that the computer company owner had left, and the motorcycle troublemaker's information was useless.

"He waited over half an hour. Didn't complain once, sat quiet as a doll. But he had another client appointment, so I couldn't detain him."

"And what's this?" Teeradon switched to the motorcycle topic.

"Registered under a foreigner's name," the secretary answered.

"The rider's clearly Thai. If not Thai, then maybe Chinese or Japanese. The rider's Asian, not a westerner. I remember that license plate perfectly." Teeradon's voice sharpened.

"Maybe it's registered under his father's name," Toey speculated, deliberately needling his irritated boss who'd forgotten to think logically. "Mr. Teeradon, a vehicle can be registered under anyone's name, but that doesn't mean the owner is the driver. He could let anyone drive it—even rent it out or lease-to-own without transferring ownership."

"Enough." Teeradon raised his hand to stop him.

"Should I invite the vehicle owner to meet with you?" Toey asked innocently.

His boss turned with a look that promised strangulation, then said coldly, "Order the gate guards: when that bike enters, regardless of who's driving, send them up to me."

"Where are you going? There's a reception tonight," Toey asked without delay as his boss immediately headed for the door.

"Don't call me today, Toey. I've had enough." Teeradon spoke without looking back at the man smiling behind his desk.

Can't call him—I'll just text.

The young secretary lifted his phone to call the 'other' computer company owner at his office, arranging a meeting for his boss who would inevitably have to meet the pale-skinned, dark-browed, prominent-nosed, red-lipped computer engineer.

I'll get to chat with Sarayoot too. What a man—that soft, deep voice, speaking in that slow, sultry rhythm. So sexy...

Teeradon's been drifting too long. Time to resign from being president of Thailand's Playboy Association.

***