The Acainé Holdings headquarters was an architectural masterpiece, a sharp blade of glass and steel that dominated the Bangkok skyline. It wasn't just a building; it was a statement. Inside its walls, efficiency reigned. From the polished marble floors to the meticulously curated art pieces, everything reflected precision, order, and power—the hallmarks of the Acainé-Saelau-Charoensuk family.
At the head of it all were Amon and Kay Acainé-Saelau Charoensuk, brothers who had transformed a family name into a dynasty.
For Kay, workdays began early and unforgiving. Today was no exception. He strode through the executive floor, his tailored navy suit a perfect complement to the sharpness of his gaze. His movements were brisk, purposeful, his phone in hand as he scanned his schedule for the day.
He pushed open the door to a smaller conference room, where Wen Ritthirong was already waiting. Wen, as always, looked composed and alert. His dark suit was impeccably pressed, and his hands were neatly folded in front of him.
Kay dropped his tablet onto the table and leaned back against one of the chairs, his tone calm but pointed. "Wen, why am I just now hearing about Kaímon being pushed to an external designer?"
Wen stepped forward, unfazed. "Prawan pitched the idea directly to Amon yesterday. He framed it as a necessary creative pivot for the current phase. Amon signed off with the condition that you oversee the final decision."
Kay tilted his head slightly, his expression sharp. "Creative pivot." The phrase rolled off his tongue like an accusation. "And why does this involve an outsider?"
Wen picked up a folder and slid it across the table toward Kay. "Prawan brought in a name. Khamron Almeida-Chalermchai. Thai-Portuguese Freelance interior designer. He's handled gallery projects in Germany, Hong Kong and Tokyo. His portfolio is bold, unconventional. Prawan thinks it'll give Kaímon an edge."
Kay's fingers tapped lightly against the table as he opened the folder and skimmed its contents. "Unconventional," he muttered, his tone flat. "In other words, unpredictable."
Wen's lips twitched faintly—almost, but not quite, a smile. "That's one way to put it. He's set to meet you in thirty minutes."
Kay leaned back in his chair, considering the situation. "I assume Amon is fine with this?"
"He is. But he left you to decide how far we indulge Prawan's vision." Wen's tone carried the faintest hint of amusement.
Kay exhaled through his nose, irritation flickering in his otherwise composed demeanour. "Fine. I'll handle it."
Thirty minutes later, Kay sat in the conference room, his focus locked on the view beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretched out before him, alive with its usual chaos, though none of it touched the pristine silence of the room.
The clock ticked past 9:30. Then 9:34.
Kay's patience was razor-thin by the time the glass door finally slid open.
Khamron Almeida-Chalermchai strolled in with a deliberate nonchalance that bordered on arrogance. He wore straight jeans, boots that looked as if they'd seen better days, and a loose linen shirt rolled up to the elbows. His leather satchel hung carelessly over one shoulder, and his dark hair framed a face that might have been charming if not for the lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
Khamron paused just inside the doorway, his brown-amber eyes flicking across the room before landing on Kay.
"Phi Kay, right?" he said casually, the words laced with an irreverence that immediately set Kay's teeth on edge.
Kay didn't bother with pleasantries. His dark eyes met Khamron's without hesitation.
"You're late."
Khamron's grin didn't falter. "Bangkok traffic," he said, his tone almost playful. "It's a miracle I got here at all."
Kay's gaze sharpened. "Traffic isn't an excuse when you've had this on your calendar for a week."Let's get started."
Khamron leaned back, his posture relaxed, as he reached into his satchel and pulled out a thick sketchbook. He placed it on the table with a theatrical flourish, then flipped it open to reveal a series of designs.
The sketches were bold and unapologetically creative—stark contrasts of light and shadow, fluid shapes that blurred the line between form and function.
Kay's eyes moved over the pages, his expression unreadable. Finally, he closed the sketchbook with a deliberate snap. "Your designs are... ambitious. But Kaímon isn't a gallery. Bold doesn't always translate to functional."
Khamron tilted his head slightly, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Ambitious. Bold. Sounds like you're complimenting me, phi."
Kay's gaze snapped up, sharp and unyielding.
"Respect is earned, Almeida. If you want to handle this project, you'll follow my lead.
No improvisation. No theatrics."
Khamron leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his grin turning wolfish. "And what if theatrics are part of the charm?
Kay didn't blink. "Then you'll find your charm doesn't get very far here."
When the meeting ended, Kay straightened his suit and stepped into the hallway, where Wen was waiting.
"How did it go?" Wen asked, his tone calm but curious.
Kay brushed past him without breaking stride. "He's reckless. But I can work with him. Keep him under control."
Wen nodded, falling into step beside him. "Noted."
Inside the conference room, Khamron lingered, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he tucked his sketchbook back into his satchel.
"This is going to be fun," he muttered to himself before strolling out.
As Kay walked toward the elevator with Wen, the conversation shifted back to Kaímon. Wen kept his pace brisk but fell half a step behind Kay, a subtle show of respect.
"Do you think Almeida is a good fit for this phase?" Wen asked, his voice level but curious.
Kay's eyes stayed forward, his expression neutral. "His designs are promising. That doesn't mean he's reliable."
Wen smirked faintly, just enough to be noticed. "And yet, you didn't dismiss him outright. That's progress."
Kay stopped abruptly, turning his sharp gaze to Wen. "Kaímon isn't a gallery. It's not a playground for some freelancer's ego. If he can't handle the requirements, I'll pull him before he does any damage."
Wen didn't react, his calm demeanour unwavering. "Understood. I'll monitor him closely."
Kay's phone buzzed, interrupting the exchange. He pulled it from his pocket, his expression darkening as he read the message. "Amon's calling a meeting."
Wen raised an eyebrow. "I assume it's not about Almeida."
Kay slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Kaímon updates. Meet us in the executive suite."
Acainé Holdings: Executive Suite
The executive suite was a world apart from the rest of the building—sleek, minimalist, and distinctly intimidating. The room's design mirrored Amon's personality: sharp, deliberate, and with no tolerance for imperfection.
Kay entered first, his presence commanding even before he spoke. Amon was already seated at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes calculating.
"Kay," Amon said, his voice smooth but firm. "Wen."
Wen inclined his head as he entered behind Kay, taking his usual position near the door.
Kay dropped into the chair closest to Amon, setting the Kaímon file on the table. "You signed off on Prawan's plan."
Amon nodded once. "The timing works. Almeida's profile fits the aesthetic Kaímon needs to finish this phase. I assume you've already met him?"
"Briefly," Kay said. His tone was cool, measured. "He's... unconventional."
Amon raised an eyebrow. "Unconventional is what we hired him for."
Kay leaned back slightly, his expression unwavering. "It's also what makes him a risk."
Amon's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "A calculated risk. We don't bring in outsiders without a reason. If you have concerns, handle them. You know what's at stake."
Kay didn't respond immediately, his mind already dissecting the potential pitfalls. Kaímon's secrecy couldn't be compromised—not by Prawan's overreach or Almeida's theatrics.
"I'll keep him in line," Kay said finally, his voice low but firm.
Amon nodded, satisfied. His gaze shifted to Wen. "Keep tabs on Prawan. If he's overstepping, I want to know immediately."
"Understood," Wen replied smoothly.
The meeting ended as quickly as it began, but the weight of Kaímon lingered between them.
Back at the Conference Room
Kay returned to the smaller conference room to find Khamron still seated, flipping idly through his sketchbook. The freelancer didn't look up as Kay entered, but the faint smirk on his lips told Kay he knew he was being watched.
"Still here?" Kay asked, his tone sharp but curious.
Khamron leaned back, closing the sketchbook with a soft thud. "Just getting a feel for the place. I like to understand the energy of a space before I start working."
Kay folded his arms, his expression skeptical. "Energy won't keep Kaímon running. I need results, not vibes."
Khamron chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Vibes are what bring results, phi Kay. You can't have one without the other."
Kay's lips twitched, though he didn't allow the faintest trace of amusement to surface. "We'll see. For now, you'll report directly to me. Any adjustments you think Kaímon needs go through me first. Clear?"
Khamron tilted his head, his amber eyes gleaming with mischief. "Crystal clear. Anything else, boss?"
Kay's gaze didn't waver. "Don't waste my time."
Khamron stood, slipping his sketchbook into his satchel. He moved with a deliberate ease, as if completely unbothered by Kay's intensity.
"Don't worry, phi Kay," he said as he headed for the door. "I wouldn't dream of it."
As the door closed behind him, Kay exhaled softly, his irritation giving way to a faint sense of intrigue. Khamron was unpredictable, yes—but there was something about him that Kay couldn't quite dismiss.
From the corner of the hallway, Wen watched as Khamron walked past, his smirk still firmly in place. When Kay stepped out moments later, Wen's curiosity got the better of him.
"Your thoughts, Kay?" Wen asked, falling into step beside Kay.
Kay adjusted his cufflinks, his expression unreadable. "He's reckless. But we'll see if he can deliver."
Wen gave a small nod, his tone dry. "High praise coming from you."
Kay didn't respond, his focus already shifting back to the Kaímon file in his hands.
Kaímon.
The word lingered in the back of Kay's mind, a secret disguised as a project. It was delicate, intricate, and, above all, dangerous. For now, only Amon, Kay, Wen, and a select few even knew its true purpose. To the rest of the world, it was just another undertaking by Acainé Holdings.
Inside the executive suite, the Acainé siblings sat around a polished dark wood table. The room, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows, offered a stunning view of the Bangkok skyline, but none of them were paying it any attention.
Amon sat at the head of the table, his posture as composed as ever, his calm presence grounding the space. Kay was to his right, his focus locked on the Kaímon file in front of him, while Arisa and Amarin occupied the seats to his left.
The silence in the room was heavy, though it was Amarin who broke it first.
"Alright, Amkarn," he began, leaning forward with a teasing grin. "What's the problem now? Is this designer guy too much for you?"
Kay didn't look up, his tone sharp. "Almeida's reckless, not difficult. There's a difference."
Amarin tilted his head, his grin widening. "You say that like reckless isn't exactly what this project needs."
Kay's gaze flicked to his younger brother, his expression unwavering. "Recklessness invites mistakes. We can't afford those."
Before Amarin could retort, Arisa spoke softly. "Do you think he's a problem, Amkarn?"
Kay hesitated, his sharp mind racing through the possibilities. "Not yet. But I'm not ruling it out."
"Then focus," Amon interjected quietly, his deep voice cutting through the room like steel. His gaze shifted to Kay, his tone calm but firm. "Almeida is Prawan's move. Prawan, not the designer, is the real issue."
The atmosphere shifted slightly. Arisa leaned back, her brows furrowing. "What's his angle?"
Amon's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Control. He's testing how much freedom we'll give him."
Amarin sat up straighter, his grin replaced by curiosity. "And what happens if we don't?"
Amon's gaze settled on Kay. "Then we don't let him play. Kay, you'll handle him—and Almeida. If either of them becomes a liability, you know what to do."
Kay nodded once, his mind already dissecting potential outcomes. Reckless or not, Almeida's involvement couldn't be ignored.
The Designer
Across the city, Khamron leaned against the edge of his desk, pencil in hand. His cluttered studio, lit by the warm glow of a modern studio lights, a chaotic yet inspired space. Sketches were scattered across every surface, their bold designs capturing the essence of his vision for Kaímon.
Khamron paused, his gaze fixed on the latest design. The contrast of sharp angles and fluid curves felt electric, deliberate. He smirked, knowing the balance would provoke exactly the kind of reaction he wanted from Kay.
"Kay," he murmured to himself, testing the name. The words rolled off his tongue with an edge of mischief. Kay had been cold, controlled, and utterly unflinching during their meeting—traits Khamron couldn't resist testing.
His phone buzzed beside him, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the message, his smirk fading.
Unknown: Progress?
Khamron stared at the screen for a moment before tossing the phone onto the desk. He wasn't in the mood to entertain questions, especially not from people who didn't matter.
Returning to his sketch, he muttered softly, "Let's see how long you can keep that composure, phi Kay."
The night had deepened, and the executive suite was quiet once more. The earlier meeting had ended, leaving only Kay and Amon behind. Kay sat at his desk, his sharp focus locked on the Kaímon file in front of him. The weight of the project pressed heavily on his mind, each adjustment and risk a potential crack in its fragile structure.
Amon stood by the window, the city lights reflecting in his dark eyes as he studied the skyline. He didn't need to look to know his brother's mind was racing.
The sound of Kay's phone buzzing broke the silence. Kay glanced at the screen, his expression tightening as he read the message.
Unknown: Watch your back.
The words sent a surge of irritation through him. His grip on the phone tightened, and for a fleeting moment, he felt the familiar itch rise in his chest—the urge to act, to lash out, burned hot beneath the surface.
"Amkarn," Amon said softly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Kay froze, the phone still clenched in his hand. He looked up to find Amon watching him, his expression calm but unreadable.
Amon walked over, his presence grounding. He held out a hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Kay handed him the phone.
Amon read the message, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he set the phone back down on the desk, his gaze met Kay's.
"Is this something I need to handle for you?" Amon asked, his tone low but steady.
Kay exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing slightly. "No. It's nothing."
Amon didn't look convinced, but he rested a hand on Kay's shoulder—a rare gesture of reassurance. "If it's not, you tell me. Always."
Kay nodded, though his jaw remained tight. Amon's hand stayed on his shoulder for a moment longer before he stepped back.
"Amkarn," Amon said quietly, his voice softening just enough to carry affection. "You don't need to hold everything yourself. That's why I'm here."
The words lingered in the air, unspoken but understood. For all his composure, Kay knew his brother meant every word.
A faint smile tugged at Kay's lips. "You sound like you're overthinking, Mon."
Amon smiled, shaking his head. "You're the only one allowed to do that. Go get in the car. I'll take care of the rest."
Kay stood, tucking his chair in with precision. As he gathered his things, the message lingered in his mind like a shadow, but so did Amon's words.
Control might have been Kay's armour, but Amon was his shield.