You navigated the pristine corridors of Bangchan’s towering office building, the weight of the lunchbox in your hands a small comfort. The lingering warmth of the food carried the intention behind it—your quiet thank-you for the extravagant shopping spree he had treated you to.

When you reached the grand boardroom doors, their sheer size made you hesitate, but only for a second. You knocked lightly and stepped inside.

The atmosphere hit you first—heavy, charged, and silent save for the measured voice of Bangchan at the head of the table.

He sat with an authority that demanded submission, his piercing gaze fixed on the group of men before him. All eyes turned when you entered, and the tension in the room sharpened to a knife’s edge.

“Bangchan, I brought you lunch!” you chirped, blissfully unaware of the chaos you’d just invited.

The silence that followed was deafening. Every head whipped toward you, the collective shock almost audible. You froze, the weight of a dozen stares dropping your stomach to the floor.

“Oh—sorry! I didn’t realize—”

“Out. All of you.”

Bangchan’s voice cut through the air, cold and unyielding.

His subordinates hesitated, their disbelief evident. Interrupting a meeting with Bangchan was a death sentence for most.

“Did I stutter?” he said coolly, his tone a promise of consequences.

Chairs scraped and shoes scuffed against the marble as the men scrambled to leave. Within moments, the room was empty, the door clicking shut behind them.

Bangchan stood, his expression softening as his eyes met yours. Without a word, he reached for the lunchbox, his fingers brushing yours in a gesture that was far too gentle for the man who had just sent his men scattering.

“You didn’t interrupt,” he said, his voice now warm and low, as if it had never known the steel edge it carried moments before. He guided you to a seat beside him, pulling it out for you with an almost shy grace.

“Sit,” he murmured, his hand lingering at the small of your back.

“We’ll eat together.”