Kanya was ready to commit a crime. Specifically, Jack's murder.
Sleep-deprived, still aching from the previous night's heels, and absolutely bombarded with media buzz...Kanya could barely open her phone without seeing her face splashed across every news outlet, fashion blog, and TikTok edit in existence.
Thailand's "missing muse" had returned, and the internet had lost its collective mind.
What made it worse?
Jack.
That idiot had called her at 4 a.m.
Not once.
Not twice.
Six goddamn times.
The seventh time, she picked up and growled, "Jack, I swear to every god above—" before being cut off by his voice screeching, "YOU BROKE THE INTERNET!!! I'M CRYING!! ARE YOU CRYING?? WHY AREN'T YOU CRYING??"
She had hung up.
Three hours later, still barely awake, she found Aran waiting at her door.
Of course, he looked annoyingly perfect. White button-down, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses pushed into his hair, and that usual bored, icy expression on his face. Until his eyes landed on her....bare-faced, hair up in a lazy bun, hoodie over yoga pants and a slow, sinful smile tugged at his lips.
"Rough night, muse?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Don't start."
He didn't listen.
The ride to the company was quiet—at first. Then, as they slid into the VIP entrance to avoid the mess of reporters crowding the front gates, Aran leaned back in his seat with a smirk that could light matches.
"You know" he said casually, "if I knew seeing you in that dress would crash half the internet, I would've dropped it off months ago."
She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."
"I'm just saying. You wore it like you were born for it. That slow coat thing? Dramatic. Cinematic. Mesmerizing."
"You sound like Jack."
"But hotter."
She glared at him. He only chuckled, tapping the steering wheel, eyes flicking to her again.
"You've got that tired, annoyed, post-supermodel energy today" he said, voice low. "It's…kind of hot."
She choked on her own breath.
By the time they pulled into the underground executive parking lot, she was steaming—both from embarrassment and irritation. He said one more thing, voice all lazy and smug:
"You know, if you ever feel like walking a private runway for me—"
She slammed him against the wall.
Her hands gripped his collar, yanking him down.....or trying to. He was taller, broader, and the sudden momentum threw her off balance. She stumbled forward.
He caught her waist, steadying her with one strong arm, the other still pinned between her hand and the wall.
Her face was right there in front of his.
His smirk deepened as he looked down at her flushed cheeks. "Easy, tiger."
She was breathing hard. "Don't call me that."
"I can call you something else, if you want" he said, voice husky. "Darling? Baby? My muse?"
She shoved at his chest.
They separated, awkward and flustered
but his grin didn't fade. If anything, it was worse now. Teasing. Triumphant.
What neither of them noticed, however, was the quiet click of a camera shutter from the shadows behind a nearby pillar.
Someone had just captured the moment.....Kanya's hands on Aran's collar, his hand at her waist, their bodies close enough to cause a scandal.
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Half the day had passed smoothly, the chaos of the morning tucked neatly into a corner of Kanya's mind. That was until her assistant came running into her office, face flushed and panic written across every line.
"Ma'am—" she panted, "we have a problem. A big one."
Kanya glanced up, unimpressed. "What now?"
The girl didn't say anything. She just handed over her phone.
Kanya took it—and froze.
A photo. Clear and sharp.
Aran leaning back against the parking lot wall, her hand gripping his collar. His face....smirking like the arrogant menace he was on full display. Her own face, thankfully, hidden behind the angle.
But it didn't matter.
The post had already exploded. Thousands of shares. Endless comments.
"Who's the mystery woman?"
"Since when did our Ice CEO look this hot?"
"Enemies to lovers arc unlocked?"
Kanya's expression didn't change, but her grip on the phone tightened.
"I—I'm so sorry" her assistant whispered, nearly in tears. "The internet is losing its mind."
Kanya set the phone down with a calm she didn't feel. "Tell PR to monitor. Don't say a word."
The assistant nodded and left, still trembling.
Kanya stood, brushing invisible dust off her skirt, expression unreadable. And start heading towards Aran's office.
She didn't knock.
She stormed through the executive office door like a mini tornado in heels, eyes blazing, phone in one hand, and murder in the other. The door banged into the wall, making the receptionist outside flinch. Aran, however, looked up from behind his desk calm, collected, and entirely too relaxed for a man who had just broken the internet.
He didn't even flinch. Instead, he tilted his head in that annoying way of his, like he was observing a curious animal at the zoo.
"Kanya" he greeted. "You look violent. Everything okay?"
She slammed her phone down on his desk, the screen still aglow with that photo.
Her back to the camera, hand gripping his collar, his face tilted slightly downward with a very obvious smirk on his lips.
The comments were brutal.
"Who is this woman??? I've never wanted to be a pixel so bad in my life." "
ARAN CEO GOT RIZZ WHATTT."
"I thought he was cold, but this smirk??? I'm pregnant."
"You saw it, right?" she hissed.
"If you mean the photo, yes" he said with a nod. "Nice angle. Great lighting. I look good."
"You look- ARAN! This is a PR disaster waiting to happen! We need to take it down now!"
"No."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"No" he repeated, unbothered. "I like it."
"You like it?" she said slowly, as if testing out the words to confirm she hadn't hallucinated.
"I like the mystery. Let them wonder. It's free PR."
"You're the CEO of a multi-billion baht company, not a contestant on a dating reality show!"
"My image has layers" he shrugged. "Also, your face isn't shown. No one knows it's you."
"But I know it's me."
"I know it's you too." His voice dipped slightly.
"That's the best part." He fucking grinned.
She sucked in a breath. "This is exactly why people think you're a menace."
"And yet" he said, steepling his fingers together, "you still showed up in that killer coat, walked the runway like a queen, and now....."
Her hands flew up. "I'm taking it down."
"I'll upload the HD version to all our platforms if you do."
She stared at him. "You're bluffing."
He opened his drawer, took out a USB, and placed it on the desk.
It was labeled: 'CEO & Mystery Girl – 4K'
She lunged.
Grabbing his collar again, she yanked him forward. His chair rolled slightly, and he let it happen, entirely too smug. Their faces were close now, and Aran's eyes twinkled with mischief.
"You are insufferable" she seethed.
"I know" he said, smiling. "It's part of my charm."
And then—BANG.
The door flew open again, this time more dramatically than her entrance.
"ARAN! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON—" Jack's voice broke through the room, followed by June and Korn, who looked like they'd sprinted from the rooftop.
They stopped.
Froze.
And collectively stared at the scene before them: Kanya gripping Aran's collar again, eyes wild, Aran relaxed in his chair like he'd just ordered room service, and the tension so thick it could be sliced with a nail file.
Jack blinked. "What—what is happening?"
June's eyes sparkled as he looked at the scene. "Well, well, well" he drawled. "Looks like we've found the woman in the photo."
Korn, still panting, raised a shaking hand. "...Should we leave or... call HR?"
Aran, still pinned by Kanya's grip, tilted his head toward them and said, "No need. HR's off today."
June burst out laughing. Jack just groaned and rubbed his temples. Korn looked like he needed to sit down—or maybe lie down.
Kanya slowly let go of his collar, straightened her blazer, and cleared her throat. "This. Is not. What it looks like."
Aran, deadpan, added, "It's exactly what it looks like."
"Aran!" she hissed.
June smirked and turned to Jack. "So do we start planning the wedding, or wait until the honeymoon announcement drops?"
Jack moaned. "Why is it always our team."
Korn blinked. "Can I be the flower boy?"