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The sleek black car pulled up to the grand entrance of the main family hotel, its towering glass facade reflecting the morning sky in hues of pale gold and soft blue. Oh, how Vegas hates being here.
He buttoned up his silk shirt covering his scars, still irritated to display them to anyone in this bloody family but his husband. Reluctantly, he stepped out of the car, his tailored suit fitting him like a second skin, exuding an air of effortless authority. As they approached the glass doors, one of his men stepped forward to open them smoothly, allowing Vegas to stride inside the lobby with his signature confidence, polished shoes clicking against the marble floor.
The lobby was bustling with activity, and his sharp eyes scanned the area, taking in the new faces among the staff as two unfamiliar bodyguards approached him. Their expressions were stern, and their movements rigid.
"Sir, we need to search you before you proceed," one of them stated firmly, his tone lacking the deference Vegas was accustomed to.
The young Theerapanyakul raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He found the situation amusing, almost endearing in its naivety.
"Careful with those hands, boys," he quipped, his voice smooth and laced with mockery as they frisked him. "Usually, I charge extra for this kind of attention."
The guards exchanged a glance, their faces flushing with embarrassment and irritation. They clearly didn't appreciate his humor and seemed determined to assert their authority.
"You're entering the premises with clearly armed watchdogs. We can't let you all through without a thorough check. Not to mention, you seem like a pretty troublesome fellow," the other guard said, stepping closer as if to intimidate.
These must be recruits, Vegas mused, still wet behind the ears and unaware of the hotel's regular visitors. He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone. "You might want to rethink that approach. Trust me, it'll save you both a lot of trouble from taking your lunchboxes and having a jolly time in my dungeons."
Before the situation could escalate further, a familiar voice cut through the tension. "What do you think you're doing?!"
The front office manager, a grizzled man with years of experience etched into his face, hurried over. His expression was angry and panicked as he glared at the two new guards.
"Sir, we were just following standard procedure for all suspicious visit-" one of the young guards began.
"This is Khun Vegas!" the manager interrupted, his voice exasperated. "He has permanent clearance."
Turning to Vegas, he bowed deeply. "My sincere apologies, Khun Vegas. These new guards still have much to learn about our distinguished regular guests."
The new guards paled, their bravado evaporating instantly. They stammered apologies, but Vegas waved them off with a dismissive hand. "Relax," he said, his tone light but carrying an edge. "They're just doing their job, albeit poorly. Who else is going to get such a five-star welcome but me? Heartwarming, truly."
At this point, the manager didn't even have the guts to look at Vegas, his face still flushed with embarrassment. "My apologies, Khun Vegas. They're new. It won't happen again."
With that, Vegas straightened his jacket and motioned for his bodyguards to follow. He walked toward the elevators, his steps unhurried and confident. As the elevator doors closed behind him, he could still hear the manager lecturing the mortified young guards about proper protocol and recognition of important family members.
Vegas leaned against the wall, his expression shifting from amusement to something more contemplative. The meeting with Kinn awaited, and he knew it wouldn't be as lighthearted as the encounter in the lobby. The Theerapanyakul alliances were a web of rivalries and unspoken tensions, and every interaction carried too many problems. Problems that took time. The time that he would rather spend with Pete.
When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, Vegas stepped out, his demeanor once again composed and unreadable. He was escorted down a long, minimally decorated corridor to the heavy oak doors of the meeting, where Vegas paused, turning to face his men.
"Wait here," he instructed, his voice carrying its usual blend of authority and casual confidence. "Our guests won't be arriving for a while, and I think I can handle my cousin on my own." His lips curled into a devilish smile. "Oh, and do try to look menacing – it adds to the ambiance."
His two guards, hardened men who had seen their share of violence, couldn't help but exchange amused looks before nodding silently and taking their positions on either side of the doorway.
Vegas adjusted his cuffs, a small habitual gesture that betrayed nothing of his thoughts, before pushing open one of the heavy doors. As he stepped into the meeting room, the door closed behind him softly, leaving his guards to their vigilant wait in the corridor.
The air inside was crisp, faintly scented with expensive cologne and fresh-cut lilies—a signature mark of the main family's taste for opulence. A vast mahogany table stretched across the space, its polished surface reflecting the warm glow of the lights above. But it was the lone figure at the far end of the table that caught Vegas' attention.
Kinn sat hunched over a stack of papers, pen gliding effortlessly across the crisp sheets. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his movements deliberate and methodical. He hadn't noticed Vegas enter—or perhaps he simply chose not to acknowledge him.
Vegas took his time approaching, his gaze sweeping over the room, noting every detail—the arrangement of documents, the bottle of expensive whiskey at Kinn's side, the unfinished drink in his glass, the way the chair beside Kinn had been pulled slightly closer, as though expecting another occupant soon. He allowed a slight, knowing smirk to tug at his lips before sliding into a seat at the opposite end of the table that would give him the best view of both the door and the floor-to-ceiling windows – old habits die hard, after all.
Vegas rested an elbow on the armrest, observing Kinn in silence as a waiter in the hotel's crisp uniform entered the room and approached Vegas with a polite bow. "Good morning, Khun Vegas. Would you like something to drink?"
Vegas's fingers absently traced the table's edge before he looked up at the waiter. "Chamomile tea," he said simply, then added while letting out a small sigh, "Doctor's orders. Apparently, mixing alcohol with my current medication would be inadvisable."
Just days ago, he had asked for wine out of habit, only to be met with Pete's unimpressed glare. "It doesn't go well with your meds," Pete had chided. Vegas wouldn't even dare to argue with his partner, so from that day on, tea was the answer.
The waiter nodded professionally and hurried away, leaving Vegas to fold his hands in his lap as he settled in, watching Kinn resume his writing. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the slow passage of time. Eventually, Kinn exhaled, setting his pen down with a soft click. Only then did he lift his gaze, dark eyes meeting Vegas' with the weight of unspoken history.
"You're early," Kinn remarked, voice smooth but edged with something unreadable.
Vegas tilted his head slightly. "And you're busy… for a change."
"Some of us still believe in preparation," replied Kinn as he leaned back in his chair, carefully regarding his cousin.
Vegas chuckled, low and amused. "And some of us have done our homework yesterday and are clever enough to improvise today."
Kinn's gaze remained steady, but there was a flicker of curiosity beneath his usual guarded demeanor. He tapped a finger lightly against his cheek. "So, what brings you here a whole hour earlier? That's uncharacteristic of you."
Leaning back slightly in his own chair, Vegas let out a slow breath. "I was already out."
Whatever Kinn might wanted to say was immediately forgotten when the door to the room suddenly burst open. Tankhun stood in the doorway, his outfit practically glowing. He was sporting a tailored suit crafted from a deep, midnight blue fabric with a subtle, sparkling sheen, giving it an elegant yet fantastical feel. The blazer's lapels and decorative trim are adorned with a scalloped design resembling layered seashells or peacock-like scales in iridescent teal, green, and gold hues. The detailing follows the edges of the blazer, emphasizing the shoulders, front closure, and cuffs.
As always, Vegas thought, his older cousin looked as ridiculous as ever.
"Pete! My beloved Pete!" Tankhun exclaimed, scanning the room with wide eyes. "Where are you? Your cunning devil is here, so you must also be here. I must see you! It's been far too long!"
Vegas and Kinn exchanged a glance, both equally unimpressed by the interruption. Unable to resist stirring the pot, Vegas answered: "Sorry to disappoint you, Khun, but Pete's not here. Not to mention that you've seen each other only two days ago."
Tankhun froze; his dramatic entrance momentarily derailed. "That's 172.800 seconds without my adorable Pete. And what do you mean he's not here? I was told he came with you!"
"Your whistleblowers haven't had their morning coffee before their daily report, I presume," Vegas said smugly, his tone calm but laced with amusement. "We did depart the minor family mansion together. However, he's not here with me. I dropped him and Venice off at their weekly baby yoga class. Figured I might as well come straight here after that."
Kinn's eyebrows shot up while Tankhun's eyes widened to comical proportions, and he clutched his chest as if Vegas had just delivered the most devastating news of his life. "B-Baby yoga? And he didn't tell me?!"
A slow grin spread across Kinn's face. "Wait a minute. You're telling me you're into that stuff?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Vegas answered while rolling his eyes. "I just drove them there. Pete's the one who's all into those weird parent-child activities."
"How long has this been going on?" Tankhun asked, his frustration mounting.
"Ehh… two weeks," Vegas admitted while scratching his head. "Today must be their third time."
Storming further into the room, the peacock of the family pointed an accusatory finger at Vegas. "How could you let this happen? How could you let my Pete go to yoga without me? Do you have any idea how much I've been looking forward to something like this? The bonding! The gossip! The adorable baby noises! I've been robbed!"
Vegas raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the theatrics. "First of all, Pete's his own person. I don't let him do anything. Unless it's part of our sexual activities."
"Eew!" Tankhun exclaimed with a look of utter disgust. "This is why we can't have nice family dinners! You and your... your... inappropriate oversharing! Someone fetch my fainting couch!"
"Second, it's not like it's a secret society meeting. It's yoga. You're acting like he's betrayed you."
"Betrayed? Betrayed?! This is worse than betrayal! This is... this is... unthinkable! Pete and I were supposed to share these moments while Venice grows up! How could he leave me out of something so precious?!"
Ignoring his brother and clearly enjoying the mental image far more than he should, Kinn chuckled. "And let me guess—you were standing in the corner, arms crossed, radiating pure intimidation while all the moms were whispering about how ridiculously attractive Pete's husband is?"
"I didn't stick around long enough to find out."
"Pity. I think you should have stayed. Maybe joined in." Kinn chuckled. "I'd pay good money to see you trying to do yoga poses with a bunch of toddlers."
"Not a chance." Vegas shot him a deathly look. "Pete tried to convince me, but I have my limits, Kinn. I already have to deal with all the mothers staring and whispering when I drop them off. One of them even tried to get my number last week."
"While Pete was right there?" Kinn chuckles.
"Pete thought it was hilarious," Vegas admits with a slight eye roll. "He said I looked like a 'grumpy cat' trying to refuse politely. Anyway, yoga with Venice is definitely not for me. If I wanted to embarrass myself in front of strangers, I'd show them my baby album. At least that would be less painful for my reputation in the criminal world."
Kinn laughed outright now, the sound rich and genuine. "Fair enough, but you still take them," he observes. "Every week, no complaints and no excuses?"
Vegas looked down at his lap, his expression unreadable. He was always so careful with what he said, and the haunting knowledge that someone was passing judgment on him was eternally present.
Then Pete came and tried to get him to open up. With a slight shrug, he replied, "Pete loves it. He says it helps Venice sleep better. And if it makes them happy, I don't mind."
Tankhun tilted his head, watching the other with an almost amused curiosity. "Loves it, hmm? And what exactly does Pete love besides that?"
At first, Vegas said nothing, his gaze shifting toward the massive windows that framed the cityscape outside. The morning light filtered through, casting long shadows across the room. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Everything," he finally said, voice quiet but confident. "Everything."
The room settled into a comfortable quiet, the weight of old rivalries momentarily set aside in the presence of something undeniably human. Before either of them could say anything further, the soft sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their exchange.
The waiter had returned, carrying a polished silver tray with a delicate porcelain teapot, a matching cup, and a small dish of lemon slices. With practiced grace, he set the tray before Vegas, carefully arranging the items before stepping back.
"Your tea," the waiter announced politely.
Vegas gave a slow nod of acknowledgment. He picked up the teapot, pouring a steady stream of amber liquid into the cup, watching the steam curl and dissipate into the cool air. He had barely lifted the cup when Kinn's voice cut through the silence.
"So," Kinn mused, arms folded across his chest. "Everything, huh?"
Vegas took a sip of his tea, savoring the warmth before replying. "Yes."
"Care to elaborate, or should I assume you don't know your partner enough? It's obvious that I know Pete best!" Tankhun declared, waving his arms dramatically.
"Don't test me, cousin," Vegas smirked over the rim of his cup.
"Come on, amuse us." Tankhun made a small, inviting gesture. "You two have nothing better to do until your meeting starts, and Porsche is surely still ignoring his alarm clock. So tell me, what exactly does Pete love? Mind you, I have been acquainted with Pete far longer than you, and I might already know everything you're about to tell us."
A muscle twitched in Vegas's forehead as his expression shifted from composed to that unique brand of controlled irritation he'd perfected over the years – the kind that looked perfectly polite to strangers but sent clear warning signals to those who knew better.
"Oh, do you?" Vegas set his cup down. "Alright then," he said, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath.
"Pete loves bao buns with any filling known to humankind, summer rolls, and spicy shrimp cakes. He loves grilled satay skewers, with or without peanut sauce, coconut pancakes, and fried bananas, which he frequently sneaks into the gym as a treat for our bodyguards after his ruthless training sessions. Moreover, he can't live without Pad Ka Prao and Kor Moo Yang, whether it's with chili dipping sauce and fresh vegetables or without any of them. He used to eat congee with meatballs for breakfast when he worked here. However, it wasn't provided daily. Thus, he is ecstatic that he gets to eat it every day now."
Running a hand through his hair, Vegas continues. "He really loves Shumai, especially with dried shiitake mushrooms, if they are fresh from a specific market stall near our house. He hates salads but holds a special place in his heart for papaya salad. I once thought it was innocent enough to try, but I was wrong. Pete wasn't quick enough to stop me, and it left me sweating and in agony for the whole afternoon." Vegas cringed at the memory and reached for a slice of lemon before dropping it in his cup and pouring some tea.
"He loves sprats, marinated perch, gobies in tomato, and champignons in their own juice, eggplant caviar, zucchini slices, and fried potatoes. On hot days, he loves some crispy pork belly, but who doesn't? I bet he can eat a whole kilo if he has some good company and a few bottles of cold beer. I have also heard that he is a big fan of Pad Krapow Moo Sap, but I didn't believe him until I caught him trying to smuggle an entire bowl into our room. As if I wouldn't notice from the ridiculously spicy odor."
Vegas traced the rim of his teacup absentmindedly and took a sip.
"Growing up in the South, there are some dishes he cannot part with, and one of them is Gaeng Tai Pla. The last time we had lunch in the courtyard, he devoured it with such ease that the bodyguards looked at him as if he were a holy deity. In addition, he simply goes crazy about Kua Kling and Tom Laeng. Don't even ask me how many chilies he adds to that thing before it becomes devastatingly spicy. His grandma sends us enough packages of homemade food and sauces to feed a small army. Remember that Gaeng Som he gave you two days ago, Khun? That was from his grandma. He loves that dish more than anything else." Vegas revealed with a fond smile on his lips.
He took a quick look around the ceiling and caught his breath. Apparently, he was already tired, but Tankhun looked at him intently, so he continued.
"Furthermore, he really, really, really loves noodles. Be it Pad see ew, Guay tiew rua, Khao soi, or Yen ta fo, it doesn't matter. He will lick the bowl and ask for seconds. He loves dumplings with cottage cheese, salted, sweet or sour filling. With all these carbohydrates, I try to make him eat more fruits, and Pete says apples taste better when I bring them. That or he's just too weak to walk to the kitchen after I wreck him. So now, I provide a full-service experience of passion, devotion, and apples on demand. He loves them grated with sugar, but he also eats them peeled, where he gobbles the apple first and then the peel as a snack. And don't get him started on coconut ice cream. If he eats it so frequently now, I can't imagine how many scoops he's going to devour during next summer."
"That reminds me, his eyes also sparkle when he gets his hands on a Japanese fluffy cake," he said, directing his gaze at Kinn. "Last month, when you sent us to Osaka, Pete drilled a hole in my head to try that dessert. We went downtown, and it was sweltering—one of those days when the air felt like soup. And, of course, the shop was in a narrow alley, packed with people. The line stretched out the door and around the corner. So, there we were, stuck in this ridiculously long queue, sweating like crazy, while Pete was all smiles, talking about how amazing that damn thing was going to be."
Kinn grinned. "I can just picture you standing there, looking like you wanted to murder everyone in the alley."
"Oh, I did. I was grumpy, hot, and completely fed up. But Pete, being Pete, kept trying to lift my spirits. He told me jokes, spun tales about the people around us, and even fanned me with a flyer he picked up from the Nakanoshima Museum we visited earlier."
"Anyway, after what felt like an eternity, we finally reached the front of the line. Pete ordered two fluffy cakes. We decided to take them back to the hotel, where I could finally hug the air conditioner and enjoy the snack without standing like a flamingo in the middle of the busy alley. He handed me my cake, and as soon as he took his first bite, his whole face lit up, and he made this little noise—like a mix between a sigh and a hum. Very cute." he suddenly frowned and looked at the other two room occupants menacingly. "Don't tell him I said that, though. I'll deny it."
Vegas ran out of breath and fell silent. Tankhun's expression clearly indicated that Vegas had won this match.
"Well, Vegas," Kinn broke the silence, "Pete certainly loves many things, no doubt about that. Tankhun and I clearly didn't know so much about him. But there has to be something else he loves besides his family and an entire grocery store."
At this point, Vegas perked up and blushed.
"Oh," he said, a look of embarrassment crossing his face, "I nearly forgot! He loves cartoons. And sex!"
"Figures." Kinn rolled his eyes.
Once he got past the initial shock of hearing so many details, Tankhun asked, "I hope those activities take place in separate rooms. For everyone's mental well-being."
Vegas let out a laugh. "Well, don't count on that."
"Oh my God!" Tankhun's face turned red as he began frantically fanning his face with his hand. "I’m going to need to cleanse my entire body after this conversation. And my soul. And maybe this whole room!" he panted, turning on his heel and marching toward the door. But before he left, he paused and pointed dramatically at Vegas. "This isn't over. I'll be talking to Pete about this."
Vegas merely lifted his tea, taking another slow sip. "You asked for it."
With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. A heavy silence enveloped the room, an unfamiliar peace settling between them—one not filled with rivalry or sharp words, but something almost bordering on understanding.
Kinn leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You realize the meeting doesn't start for another twenty minutes, right?"
Vegas sighed and set his cup down. "Yes, Kinn. I'm aware."
"Good. That means I have twenty more minutes to persuade you to try the baby yoga thing."
Vegas groaned, rubbing his temples. "I already told you that's not my thing."
"Come on, Vegas. You've seen Pete. He's charming, diligent, and good with kids. Do you really want to risk someone swooping in and stealing him? Someone in this room, and I don't mean myself, must ensure Pete doesn't get too many admirers in these classes."
The implication struck Vegas like a thunderbolt. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he was utterly still.
Then, in a comical burst of energy, he dramatically pushed his chair back, sending it rolling across the floor. "I'm leaving."
"Wait, what?"
"Tell the clients I had a family emergency!"
"Vegas, come on! This is ridiculous!" Kinn stood up and tried to grab his arm, but Vegas easily dodged him and sprinted down the hallway, with his two confused guards trailing behind.
For a few moments, Kinn just stood in the doorway, too stunned to react. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face, and he started to laugh. It wasn't just a chuckle but a full-on, uncontrollable laugh that left him clutching his sides.
"Me and my big mouth," Kinn muttered between laughs as he reached for his phone to reschedule the meeting.
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EXTRA
The room was filled with soft music, the gentle hum of conversation, and the occasional giggle of babies. Mats were spread across the floor, each occupied by a parent and their little one. One of them belonged to Pete, who sat cross-legged on it with Venice lying on his back in front of him. The five-month-old babbled happily, his tiny hands reaching out to grab one of the colorful toys scattered around them before sticking it in his mouth.
Pete was in his element, his smile bright and effortless as he guided Venice through simple stretches or lifted him in the air as a form of extra weight during a specific exercise. He looked up occasionally to exchange friendly smiles with the other parents, his natural charm making him a favorite among the group, especially since he was the only male parent present.
The instructor guided everyone through a final relaxation exercise as the session ended. It was a moment of pure domestic bliss that was soon to be interrupted as the studio's door swung open, and Vegas strode in, his presence immediately drawing attention. He arrived reasonably quickly, considering Bangkok's traffic, his usual composure slightly ruffled from his hasty exit from the main family's skyscraper.
His sharp eyes scanned the room, quickly zeroing in on Pete and Venice. The sight of them, so happy and carefree, made Vegas' earlier urgency fade away.
Pete looked up and, though surprised, smiled when he saw Vegas. "Hey! What are you doing here?"
The mobster took off his shoes and walked over to his partner, his steps purposeful yet his demeanor a bit awkward. Dressed in his sharp outfit, he appeared strikingly out of place in the cozy, laid-back atmosphere. He looked around at the other parents, who were now openly staring at him, before sitting down next to Pete. "I thought I'd join you," he said, his voice low but firm. "See what all the fuss is about."
"I'm glad you're here." Pete's smile widened, and he shifted to make room next to his mat.
"Alright, everyone, let's concentrate here." The instructor, a cheerful woman with a soothing voice, clapped her hands to capture everyone's attention. "Parents, keep your little ones close and follow along."
While Pete and Vegas were distracted, Venice managed to roll onto his tummy, his chubby hands reaching for a bright red toy that had caught his eye.
"You're such a curious little guy, aren't you?" Pete chuckled, gently laying him on his back and handing him the toy he was so eager to grab. "There. Happy now?" he asked as he tickled Venice's tummy.
The baby giggled, clearly enjoying the interaction, which gave Pete enough time to place his legs on either side of Venice and lean forward for a stretch, hovering above the baby.
With his brows furrowed in concentration, Vegas glanced around the room, noticing a few parents looking in their direction, and for a moment, he felt a pang of possessiveness. Kinn's words echoed in his mind, and he couldn't help but feel a little smug as he positioned himself closer to his oblivious partner.
As Pete guided Venice through the final stretch, the baby's focus shifted once more—this time to Vegas. Venice playfully raised his legs, his wide eyes fixed on Vegas' face. He gazed at him with an intensity that was both adorable and slightly unsettling.
"Uh, Pete," Vegas said, his voice low. "Why is he staring at me like that?"
Pete glanced over his shoulder at Vegas and chuckled softly. "He's questioning your life choices. Specifically, why you aren't on the mat 'suffering' with us."
"Haha, hilarious, Pete. Well, tell him I'm here to make sure no one tries to steal you away."
The instructor thanked everyone for participating, signaling the end of the class and encouraging the other parents to start packing up.
Pete blinked and sat up straight. "Is that what this is about? You're worried someone might flirt with me?"
"Just covering my bases," Vegas shrugged, attempting to play it cool.
Pete chuckled and gently leaned back, resting his weight against Vegas' torso.
"You're all sweaty," Vegas murmured, his voice thick with amusement.
Pete sighed dramatically, sinking further against him. "Tell that to the little menace right here. I spent half the session trying to keep him from biting my toes. My anxiety shot through the roof."
Vegas chuckled, his fingers trailing lazily up Pete's arm. "Sounds like you both had a good time."
"Maybe," Pete hummed in agreement, closing his eyes. "But for now, I just want to sit here and not move for the next hour."
Vegas shifted slightly, adjusting so Pete could fit more comfortably against him. He said nothing; instead, he let his fingers massage Pete's shoulders, rubbing small, absentminded circles against his skin.
"You know what?" Pete said softly, breaking the silence. "I won't even ask you about the meeting. I’m really glad you showed up today, even if it's at the last minute."
Vegas glanced down at him. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. This is a one-time thing."
"Sure, Vegas. Whatever you say."