Chapter Text
“ETA twenty minutes, Khun Kinn, sir.”
The voice crackling through the speaker of his cell sounded tight and apprehensive, doing nothing to ease Kinn’s discontent. He simply affirmed with a brief, “Okay,” before hanging up. He knew it wasn’t Pol’s fault for being late. Technically, Kinn had only himself to blame, and what his late father had always called his ‘too soft heart.’
Yes, Kinn could have insisted on the meeting taking place at the Rosewood, the Theerapanyakul family’s headquarters in Lumphini. But these days, Kinn rarely got out of the gigantic complex, conducting most of his business from his penthouse suite or the meeting rooms and offices on the 17th floor.
Today, he had accepted Dong’s, one of their oldest partners, invitation to their new location in Samphanthawong, a newly refurbished warehouse property on famous Song Wat Road. And there lay the problem with it all. Song Wat was one of Bangkok’s oldest neighborhoods, and the road was one-way only. Meaning, his driver had to drop him off at the end of one of the narrow alleys leading toward the Chao Phraya, letting only Kinn and his head bodyguard out.
Now, after the meeting with Dong had concluded, if he didn’t want to walk all the way down the road towards a less crowded and more accessible area, Kinn was forced to wait. Waiting wasn’t something he appreciated, much less in a 25° heat coupled with 77% humidity.
The year had just turned, and Kinn was glad to have left 2025 behind him. It hadn’t been a catastrophic year, but still, enough shit had happened to make him eager to forget and move on.
Next to him under the narrow sliver of shade from one of the overhanging roofs, Big kept whirling his head left and right, constantly on high alert, checking every passerby for a potential threat. Kinn took a deep breath. His throat was parched and he regretted not having accepted a drink before leaving his business partner’s office.
He let his eyes wander over the crowds—impressive for a regular weekday, but he guessed, there were still a lot of tourists who had come over the holidays, likely escaping the colder weather of the Western world.
He was just about to ask Big for an update on the car’s GPS when he noticed a sign across the street.
‘Pacharadise’ it said in big bold letters, underneath which a blackboard had been set up, on it scribbled ‘Today’s menu’ followed by a few signature drink options. Kinn checked his watch, wondering if he would have enough time to get a coffee, before realizing that he was literally the boss. Pol could find a spot to halt the car for a few minutes, and if anyone complained, Kinn had the financial means to quickly assuage them.
“I’m getting a drink,” he told Big, nodding toward the other side of the road. “Stay here.”
“But Khun Ki—”
“If someone wanted to kill me, they would’ve done so already,” Kinn cut him off, slightly annoyed at his head bodyguard’s wariness. “I’ll just be a minute.”
And with that, Kinn crossed the road, evading a tuk tuk and a motorbike, and weaving through a bunch of people gathering on the sidewalk in front of the café.
Inside, the air was a lot cooler, the AC working overtime. Kinn took a deep breath as his eyes slowly adjusted to the semi-darkness of the place. There was a short narrow corridor, leading toward a winding staircase. Red paper lanterns hung above, the walls painted a faint gray-blue. On the first landing stood a fake Christmas tree, decorated with colorful baubles and string lights. Kinn passed it, ascending higher, until he reached the second floor.
The room had tall ceilings, which were supported by steel beams. Along one side was a row of three arched windows, the very top of them decorated with colorful stained glass. The walls were either painted in a dark mossy green, almost turquoise, or tastefully left unplastered. On the opposite side was the counter, a small display showcasing the café’s assortment of beautiful looking pastries, and an iPad which seemed to replace a paper menu.
Almost all of the low tables and chairs were occupied, proving that the place was just as popular as any café along the hip and trendy street. Kinn finally stepped forward, his hand sliding over the shiny white countertop, waiting for someone to acknowledge his presence. There was only one person manning the front, and he was currently leaning through a pass-through which seemed to lead into the kitchen.
Kinn had merely a moment to take in the broad shoulders and insanely tiny waist, accentuated perfectly by the apron tied around it, before the man turned around—and the sight took Kinn’s breath away.
Before him stood one of the most beautiful men he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Golden skin, chocolate brown, windswept hair, and a pair of amber eyes that almost looked like they glowed, even in the low light.
For a moment, Kinn was too stunned to move, to even form a coherent thought. When he caught himself, multiple seconds had passed—way too long to cover up just how inappropriate his behavior had to have been. But when Kinn lifted his gaze from the other man’s exposed clavicle and the thin silver chain that rested there, he realized that he wasn’t the only one who had been staring.
Their eyes met, and the expression of embarrassment and wonder on his opposite’s face was so utterly, disarmingly endearing, Kinn had to smile. A blush had spread over those tanned cheeks, reaching all the way down his neck, and up to the tips of his ears. Kinn wondered where else he could make this ethereal creature blush and what it would take to do so.
“Hi,” he said, finally breaking the silence. And with that, all other sounds seemed to return as well. The steady clanking of cutlery on plates, the faint slurping through thick straws, and the distant noise of traffic outside.
“Hey. Hi. Hi.”
The reaction was so adorable, Kinn could no longer suppress an incredulous laugh. “Hi,” he repeated, stepping a bit closer, leaning one elbow on the counter. “Can I order something?”
“Of course!”
The man nearly tripped over his own feet as he did a full 180, only to pause and reach for the iPad, shoving it over toward Kinn. “This is our menu! We have several specials, for example the Pineapple Praise, the Mango Mommy, or the Watermelon W—”
“Do you have iced coffee?” Kinn gently interrupted him, offering a small apologetic smile, “I’m not really that much into all that sweet stuff.”
The other man faltered, his face falling, making it almost look like he was offended. It balanced out his obvious fluster, helping him to regain his composure.
“Coffee?” he asked with one of those perfectly sculpted eyebrows cocked.
“Yeah,” Kinn replied, raising one of his brows to mirror the man’s expression. “This is a café, isn’t it?”
The man snorted, softly shaking his head, some fire returning to his gaze. “No offense, but this isn’t Starbucks. At Pacharadise we specialize on creative concoctions, beautiful beverages, perfect potables—”
“Delicious drinks, I got it,” Kinn finished the alliteration train, laughing softly when the other man nodded satisfactorily.
“Well, if you get it, then you’ll understand that I can’t just serve you a boring regular coffee,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. It made his biceps in the short-sleeved, white tee bulk almost indecently, and his muscular chest almost spilled out from the V of the shirt. “I can offer you a Milky Macchiato or a Hazelnut Happy, perhaps?”
Kinn pulled a face. Contrary to the man’s insistence both drinks sounded exactly like something one might find at Starbucks, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. Instead, he leaned closer over the counter, lowering his voice to a murmur only the two of them would be able to hear.
“Tell you what: you make me a drink that’s as close to a regular black iced coffee as you feel comfortable with, and I’ll tip you handsomely.”
He even threw in a wink for good measure, and for just a moment, it seemed like he had gained the upper hand. Then, the other man returned his smile with a grin of his own, leaning in until only inches separated them, and Kinn could feel his hot breath against his own skin.
“Sorry, Khun, but I own this place and I’m not for sale.” He paused, staying right where he was, his eyes dropping to Kinn’s lips without any hint of shame. “No matter how hot the customer is.”
With that, he pulled back, leaning against the cash register, one hand lifting to tap a finger against the iPad. “Now, you wanna have a look at the menu, or should I make a recommendation?”
Their gazes held for a long moment, and Kinn could see the challenge reflected back at him. He wasn’t normally the type to give in—he was Anakinn Theerapanyakul, the mafia prince of Bangkok, for God’s sake. But something about this man, his audacity, the playful cheekiness—it made him feel weak, and, surprisingly, quite okay with that fact.
“Surprise me,” he finally managed, tipping up his head as if to tell him the challenge was accepted. “But if you try to poison me, I have ways to make you regret it.”
As the other man grinned back at him, Kinn’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and with a low sigh he pulled it out. A text from Big, informing him that Pol was going to be here in five minutes. Kinn cursed under his breath. He had a million things to do today, but suddenly, none of them seemed pressing anymore. All he wanted was to stay here, and keep arguing with this beautiful young man.
When he lifted his gaze, he noticed the man glancing over his shoulder from where he had been leaning through the hatch to tell his kitchen staff his order. But despite getting caught, the man didn’t flinch or try to avert his gaze. Instead, he turned fully around, leaning against the wall, his hands sliding down his sides and into the pockets of his light, washed-out jeans.
“Bad news?” he asked, nodding toward Kinn’s phone.
“Aren’t you a nosy one?” Kinn responded, but his voice carried no heat. “Ever heard the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat?’”
“I have,” the man said with a shrug, “but I wouldn’t be a very good hospitality entrepreneur if I always minded my own business.”
“So this is your place?” Kinn asked, gesturing behind him.
The man nodded, his chest visibly puffing. “Yep. We just opened last November. Spent almost half a year renovating the dump.”
“Really?” Kinn let his eyes wander over the beautiful room. “Did you commission an interior designer?”
The man scoffed, then snorted. It should have been really unattractive, yet Kinn found himself utterly charmed by him.
“Do I look like I can afford anything designer?” The man scoffed again, then shook his head.
Kinn couldn’t help but think that, while no, the man’s entire appearance didn’t exactly scream luxury, he would indeed look stunning draped in it. He was about to offer just that, anything short of becoming his sugar daddy, when the man continued.
“Nah, man, did it all by myself. My brother helped a bit, picked a few of the vintage decor at Chatuchak.”
Kinn raised his eyebrows. “Impressive,” he said, and meant it. “The two of you have impeccable taste.”
Once again, the man blushed, his breath stuttering as he mumbled, “you… your taste is…” before turning around and shouting at the kitchen staff where his order was.
Kinn suppressed a low chuckle, and took the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the man’s ass. Tight and perky, just the way Kinn liked it. Everything within him itched to reach out and pinch it. Somehow he was certain, the other man would only blush, maybe slap his hand away—but secretly, he wouldn’t dislike it. Maybe he would even wish for Kinn to do it again, later, in a more private setting.
His indecent day dreams were rudely interrupted by a plastic cup getting slammed down on the counter.
“There you go, esteemed customer,” the man said, extending his arms in an inviting gesture. “The Pachara Perfection.”
Kinn didn’t even glance down at the drink. He just held the man’s eyes, taking in his still slightly rosy cheeks, and the way his eyes sparkled with something dangerously close to eagerness. He wanted to please, Kinn realized. To please his customers, sure, but right now, there was only Kinn. And if this man owned the place and named his own drinks, the ‘Pineapple Praise’ was a good hint at how much he thrived on satisfying others.
Without taking his eyes from the man, Kinn reached for the drink, blindly stabbing the straw into it and lifting the cup to take a sip. He was pleasantly surprised the taste wasn’t overly sweet. It was coffee, yes, but not quite black. There was a slightly creamy feel to it, one that mixed well with the coffee taste, but didn’t overpower it.
“It’s good,” he said, noticing exactly how the other man swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly. Kinn wanted to sink his teeth into that throat, to lick and bite until the little brat apologized for how he had treated his ‘esteemed customer’ earlier.
“Oat milk,” the man rasped, proving just how affected he truly was by their staring duel. “Mildly sweet… figured it was worth the risk…” A pause. Then, quieter, almost inaudible over the low rumble of conversation in the crowded room, “Do you… do you like it?”
Kinn’s smile widened imperceptibly. There it was. Praise. This man… he was starved for it. And Kinn wanted to give it to him. By God, he was aching to drag this gorgeous human being by his collar into the nearest corner, where, hidden from prying eyes, he could devour him whole.
Of course, the universe chose this exact moment to remind Kinn of where they were and why he could never have nice things.
“Khun Kinn!” Big’s voice sounded through the air, momentarily making the other patrons fall silent. “Pol is here. Are you—”
“A minute,” Kinn barked, already regretting his harshness, and silently vowing to give Big a raise or some extra time off later.
He turned around to face the café owner again.
“Sorry about that,” he said, quietly, bowing his head in apology. “Unfortunately, I have to go.”
From the way the other man’s face fell, Kinn felt that he wasn’t the only one regretting it.
“Oh… well… I mean… you can stop by another time, if you want to… you know… now that you know I’m not gonna poison you.”
Kinn let out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Oh, trust me, I will,” he said, reaching into the breast pocket of his suit to pull out one of his business cards. “I’d love to continue our conversation.”
With that, he slid the card over the counter, tapping his finger to make the man look down at it.
“I’m Anakinn, but my friends call me Kinn. This is my private cell.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, their eyes met again, and the slightly shy expression on the other man’s face melted away, revealing the same spark Kinn had noticed earlier.
“Pachara,” he said, his tongue peeking out between his teeth. “But my friends call me Porsche.”
Kinn felt a pleasant shiver roll down his spine. “Porsche,” he repeated, liking how the name felt on his lips. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
He lifted the plastic cup, demonstratively taking a large sip and closing his eyes as he savored it. By the stairs he paused for just an instant, taking one final look at this beautiful man across the room. Then, he descended, brushing past a waiting Big and slipping into the back seat of his Maserati.