Bangkok at night was a world of its own --neon light dripping down the buildings, motorcycle buzzing through the narrow street,with shadow that hid both danger and desire .
And somewhere inside that shadow stood a man who did not below to the ordinary world.
Phum chaiyana was the only son of chaiyana syndicate the top business man in Thailand.
But aside their family business they had another identity they were mafia.
Phum wasn't just handsome he was the type of man who made people stare without even trying .
Tall broad - shouldered, dressed in black from head to toe he had a presence that felt like gravity pulling everyone to him.
His features were sharp and dangerous jet black hair, slightly messy but effortlessly stylish,cold piercing eyes like the color of Storm about to break ,a jawline so sharp it could cut someone breath short, veins running along his hands, visible when he rolled up his sleeves, hands made for both violence and temptation.
Phum had an aura that whispers don't come close unless you want trouble.
But trouble had a strange way of finding him first.
That night, as he walked down the dim alley, the city buzzing behind him, Phum wasn't expecting anything unusual. He only came out to clear his head after a long meeting—deals, enemies, alliances, nothing he couldn't handle.
Until he heard a soft sound.
A quiet gasp.
Followed by the thud of books hitting the ground.
Phum turned his head lazily, ready to ignore it—
But his eyes landed on someone he had never seen before.
A boy.
A small, soft-looking university boy, kneeling on the pavement, scrambling to gather his scattered textbooks. His brown hair fell messily over his forehead, his white school shirt slightly wrinkled from rushing. He looked completely out of place in a dark alley like this.
Phum paused.
The boy didn't notice him at first, too busy trying to catch a paper blown by the wind. He stretched forward, lost his balance, and almost fell face-first—
Phum moved before he could think.
A strong hand shot out, grabbing the boy's arm and pulling him upright.
The boy froze.
Slowly, he looked up… straight into Phum's eyes.
For a moment, neither of them breathed.
The boy's lips parted slightly, his big brown eyes widening in surprise.
He looked innocent. Too innocent.
Like the kind of softness Phum had never touched, never tasted, never allowed himself to want.
"Th-thank you…" the boy whispered, voice small, almost trembling.
Phum raised a brow, letting go of his arm.
"Be careful," he said simply.
"This isn't a place for someone like you."
The boy hugged his books to his chest.
"I didn't mean to come this way. I was rushing to the bus stop…"
Phum's gaze lingered on his uniform, his ID card, the little blush dusting his cheeks.
"What's your name?" Phum asked before he could stop himself.
The boy hesitated, then answered softly,
"Natee."
Phum repeated it in his head.
The name fit him—soft, gentle… dangerous in a way Phum didn't understand yet.
Natee took a step back, bowing politely like the sweet university boy he was.
"I'll go now. Thank you again."
But the moment he turned away, something shifted in the air.
A loud crash sounded from farther down the alley—voices shouting, rushing footsteps, the kind of trouble Phum recognized instantly.
Natee flinched.
Phum's eyes darkened.
Before the boy could move, Phum grabbed his wrist again, pulling him close with a strength that made Natee gasp.
"Stay behind me," Phum ordered, his voice low and dangerous.
Natee's heart hammered.
He didn't know who this man truly was.
But something told him…
This wasn't the last time their paths would cross.
And Phum, staring into the darkness ahead of them, already knew:
He had stumbled into something he shouldn't want—
But he wasn't letting go.
Not now.
Not ever.