Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake up call #10

 

"What are you in the mood for?"

 

The moment Peach shut the car door, Thee, already seated beside him, asked the question casually. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the tablet in his lap, scanning through some documents. Peach blinked in surprise. It wasn't like Theerakit to ask for anyone's opinion—ever. Usually, he just did whatever he wanted without a second thought.

 

"Anything's fine with me," Peach replied, throwing the ball back into Thee's court. He wasn't picky when it came to food, and honestly, under the pressure of this guy's presence, his brain wasn't functioning well enough to think of anything specific.

 

"Then we'll head to the restaurant at the downtown hotel."

 

Peach's stomach dropped the second he heard it. His eyes darted down to his current outfit—an old white t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. A place like that would never let him in dressed like this. But could you blame him? It wasn't like he had much time to get ready. He'd thrown on whatever was closest and didn't think twice about it. At least he wasn't still in his pyjamas.

 

"Mr Thee, I don't think they'll let me in dressed like this," he pointed out cautiously. Finally looking up from his tablet, Thee arched an eyebrow, as if silently asking, Why wouldn't they let you in?

 

"You're with me. Who's going to stop you from walking in?" Peach fought the urge to roll his eyes. Great, here we go again with the big-shot routine!

 

"I'm not saying they won't let me in. I'm saying it doesn't look right. It's disrespectful to the place," he tried to explain.

 

Being a photographer meant Peach had attended his fair share of fancy dinners and high-profile events. Upscale restaurants like that often had dress codes for a reason—out of respect for the venue and the other guests. Turning up in his wrinkled t-shirt and jeans wasn't exactly appropriate.

 

"No need to overthink it. I've booked a private room." Thee closed his iPad, crossed his arms, and turned to him with a serious expression, clearly ready to argue his point. Peach couldn't help but chuckle internally. Sometimes this mafia boss acts like a stubborn little kid.

 

Peach froze for a second as that thought hit him. What was he doing, risking his life by finding this guy adorable? This wasn't just anyone; this was a weapons dealer with armed bodyguards and enough firepower to level a building. Had he completely lost his mind?

 

He shook his head slightly, trying to chase away the ridiculous thought, and forced himself to focus. "It's not about the private room, Thee. Walking into a place like that dressed like this? It's disrespectful. It shows no regard for the venue."

 

"I can just buy out the entire restaurant."

Oh, please get my point! 

 

Peach resisted the urge to pull at his own hair. Clearly, trying to explain this was a lost cause. How could Thee ever understand when he thought money could fix absolutely everything?

 

"I'm not going," Peach said firmly, abandoning the idea of reasoning altogether. From the way Thee operated, there was no way he'd ever get it.

 

The mafia boss's brows knitted together instantly, his displeasure radiating so strongly that Peach could practically see it. He was calculating something, probably trying to come up with an alternative. Peach realised he'd need a distraction, something to shift the conversation, fast. Out of nowhere, a memory of his little sister's words popped into his head.

 

"How about we go for Moo Kata instead?'

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Peach regretted them. What the hell was he saying? Moo Kata? For the mafia, sitting there in a tailored suit that cost more than his entire life savings? He must've lost his mind. In his head, he started praying to God, silently begging for a quick, painless end.

 

The more Thee furrowed his brows, the more Peach wanted to disappear into the car seat. Panic bubbled up, making him wish he could just sink into the upholstery and vanish. Thee rubbed his chin lightly with his knuckles, deep in thought. Then, to Peach's utter shock, Thee nodded and said something that felt like it shattered his world right then and there. 

 

"Moo Kata is fine, then."

Wait, what? Seriously?

 

In the end, Peach didn't have the guts to drag a mafia boss to the kind of roadside barbecue joint he and his sister frequented. After a long negotiation that lasted nearly ten minutes, they compromised and ended up at a high-end grill restaurant. It wasn't exactly what Peach had envisioned, but at least it wasn't a five-star establishment.

 

The restaurant, located in the heart of a mall, had a warm, inviting ambience with wooden décor. Thanks to its eye-watering prices, it wasn't packed. A glance around confirmed Peach's suspicion; most patrons looked like they had wallets hefty enough to solve their problems the same way the mafia did: by throwing money at them.

 

Thee's bodyguards had spread out, blending seamlessly with the other customers. It wasn't unusual for the evening crowd to include suit-clad diners enjoying a meal at such a posh place. Meanwhile, Thee led the way as they headed deeper into the restaurant, slipping behind a curtain and ascending a staircase to one of the private rooms upstairs. Only two people followed them into the restaurant, both familiar faces who were frequently in the same car as Mr Thee.

 

Thee's secretary-slash-bodyguard opened the door to a room. Peach nodded politely and gave the man a small, friendly smile. It helped ease his nerves—at least until the door shut behind him, leaving him alone with Mr Thee once more. That smile... Was that supposed to be encouragement before sending me off to war? 

 

Peach let out a quiet sigh as he slid into the seat across from the young mafia boss without protest. Thee tossed him the menu before immediately diving back into his iPad, completely uninterested in what Peach might order. If I max out the bill ordering every expensive dish on the menu, he'd have no right to complain later. Peach thought to himself with a hint of mischief. Then he sighed again, this time quietly amused. 

 

The Arseny empire was swimming in wealth. Even if he ordered the priciest items off the menu, it wouldn't make a dent—probably less than a quarter of their quarterly profits.

 

"Is there anything special you feel like eating?" Peach asked, holding the menu as he nervously pressed his lips together and stole a cautious glance at Thee. He was starving. He wanted to order everything! But with the host acting so indifferent, he didn't dare make a move.

 

"Just order. I'll eat whatever."

 

As soon as he got Thee's blessing, Peach's face lit up with a grin. He flipped the menu open without a shred of hesitation. He was famished, and since Thee was the one who dragged him here and had explicitly offered to treat him he was going to eat to his heart's content.

 

Peach ended up pointing out nearly ten plates of premium cuts of meat, not counting all the side dishes he threw in for good measure. The entire time, the young mafia remained glued to his iPad, not sparing him so much as a glance. Peach didn't mind, though. Plenty of his friends worked while eating together, and being an adult meant taking on responsibilities. Besides, he wasn't so special that Thee needed to pause his work just to cater to him.

 

No, Peach didn't feel offended in the slightest. Nor did he bother asking what Thee was working on. Instead, he whipped out his phone and sent a quick message to his sister, reminding her not to get drunk because he'd be picking her up later. That done, he idly chatted with her about random topics while waiting for the food.

 

It didn't take long for the dishes to arrive. Vibrant slices of marbled meat, the fat streaked through like delicate veins of marble, were arranged beautifully on the plates. The cuts were just the right thickness, and as soon as the table was loaded, Peach eagerly grabbed the tongs and carefully laid the meat on the grill, arranging it in neat rows, then flipped each piece back and forth with practised ease, thoroughly enjoying the process.

 

Peach grilled the first plate of meat to perfection, but Mr Thee was still engrossed in his iPad, not even glancing up. Peach, sitting there inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of grilled beef, didn't dare take the first bite. Instead, he kept flipping and arranging the meat neatly on the serving plates. By the time he finished grilling the second tray, the plates were beautifully arranged. Hesitating for a moment, he finally decided to get up and quietly reach across the table to grab Thee's empty plate. He didn't expect the mafia boss to suddenly clamp down on his wrist with a grip so tight it felt like his bones might crack.

 

"What do you think you're doing?" Thee growled, his deep voice low and cold. He turned his head to look at Peach, his sharp eyes glinting with a dangerous, predatory edge. For a second, Peach felt like prey staring down a wild beast, its teeth bared and inching closer to his throat. This is terrifying!

 

Swallowing hard, Peach felt a shiver of fear ripple through him. His wrist throbbed under Thee's iron grip, and his eyes stung with unshed tears. But he didn't dare yank his hand back. His hand trembled slightly, forcing him to tense his muscles to keep from shaking too much. All he could do was bite down on his lower lip, trying to stay composed.

 

Peach got too comfortable. He'd forgotten Thee's true nature, lulled by the rare moments of leniency. He was a mafia boss through and through.

 

"I'm sorry. I grilled some meat for you and thought I'd swap your plate since you seemed busy with work and hadn't eaten yet." He forced a shaky smile, even as his wrist started to go numb. Judging by the tingling, his blood flow was probably getting cut off.

 

Theerakit froze for a moment, his gaze flicking to the table. Sure enough, Peach's hand had been reaching for an empty plate. Next to it sat another plate neatly stacked with perfectly grilled slices of meat, not to mention the sizzling cubes of steak still on the grill, releasing an irresistible aroma.

 

After a beat, the mafia's eyes returned to Peach. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he loosened his grip on Peach's wrist. Peach, who had been holding onto his faint smile for dear life, immediately slid the clean plate in front of Thee, grabbed the empty one, and quickly retreated to his seat.

 

Peach let out a quiet sigh, sneaking a glance at his hands, which still trembled slightly. His pale wrist bore angry red marks, the clear imprint of Thee's grip.

He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, trying to shake off the lingering tension and steady his nerves. With a shaky breath, he turned his attention back to the grill. The tight knot of fear in his chest hadn't fully eased, so he focused on his food, eating in silence without uttering a word.

 

He didn't look at Thee directly, but from the corner of his eye, he noticed the mafia boss putting away his iPad. Thee's hand moved to pick up a pair of chopsticks instead. His fingers were long, strong, and precise. No wonder his grip had left such vivid marks.

 

"I wasn't angry with you."

 

Thee's voice was softer now, but Peach only gave him a faint smile and a quiet hum of acknowledgement, keeping his head down. He gripped his chopsticks a little tighter to stop his hands from shaking.

 

Out of nowhere, his appetite seemed to vanish, despite how hungry he had been just minutes ago. He shouldn't have come. Peach forced himself to pick up a piece of meat and pop it into his mouth. The rich, buttery flavour of the tender beef melted on his tongue, a delicacy he rarely got the chance to enjoy. I should make the most of this, he thought. Who knows? This might be the last fancy meal I ever have.

 

"How'd you know what I wanted to eat?"

 

The question came out of nowhere, soft enough to sound like Thee was talking to himself. But in the near-silent room, where the only other noise was the faint crackle of charcoal, Peach heard it loud and clear. His body tensed. He couldn't tell whether the question was meant as a compliment or a criticism.

 

"I just noticed things. Last time, you ordered medium-rare steak. And since it's already late, I thought too much fatty food might upset your stomach." He hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. "If I guessed wrong, I'm sorry."

 

Thee didn't reply, merely picking up a piece of meat and eating it without a word. Peach didn't push for a response. Instead, he focused on the grill in front of him, though he couldn't help but keep placing perfectly grilled pieces of meat on Thee's plate now and then. But one thing was certain, he avoided making eye contact with Thee entirely. He realised he'd let his guard down far too much.

 

Even though Thee appeared calm and perhaps even kind at times, it didn't change the fact that he was still a mafia boss.

...And Peach wasn't the Aran, the person Thee had fallen for. If he forgot that, next time, it might just cost him his life.