Pennueng strode back into his office, his steps hard and precise.
He waited until he was sure that Mollamas had left the building before pressing the intercom.
"Get in here," he said flatly.
Moments later, his personal assistant, Kesakarn, appeared at the door, clutching her tablet like a shield.
"Didn't you look at my schedule?" His tone was calm—too calm—the kind that made her flinch more than if he'd shouted.
"Y–Yes, sir. I did."
"And what did you see?"
She swallowed. "Your schedule is full for the entire week, except… tomorrow. Tomorrow you haven't accepted any appointments."
"And?"
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as his dark eyes narrowed. How long had she been working for him now—four months? Six? Maybe eight.
Long enough to know better.
"M-Ms. Mollamas requested another meeting tomorrow," Kesakarn stammered. "She said she'll have additional project details ready by then."
Pennueng rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. God help me.
He'd already wasted twenty minutes listening to her useless presentation—and another five enduring her perfume.
"Kesakarn," he said, voice low but cutting. "My time is expensive. Every hour I spend must be worth it. I wasted nearly twenty minutes today on something pointless. Next time someone wants to pitch a project, have them submit a proposal in advance. No exceptions."
She nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."
"And tomorrow," he added coldly, "I'm not accepting any meetings. I believe I've made that clear. Don't make me repeat myself."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You may go."
He waved a dismissive hand. She bowed slightly and hurried out of the room, shoulders stiff with unease.
Pennueng didn't care. Her feelings weren't his problem.
In his world, emotions were distractions.
Performance, precision, and results—that was what mattered.
He picked up his pen again, tapping it once against the glass surface, his reflection staring back at him with that same detached calm.
But beneath it, somewhere deep down, irritation simmered—not at his secretary, not even at Mollamas.
It was because of one woman's face—
one he hadn't seen in years until this morning.
And no matter how he tried to focus,
he couldn't get Kwan Khao out of his head.