Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Men on mission

The black SUV idled in a dimly lit alley two blocks from Club Paragon.

Inside, the squad was checking gear, syncing comms, and finalizing details.

I was going over my cover identity—Kit Wattanachai, investor, new money—when I felt Sky’s presence shift beside me.

“Lift your chin,” he murmured.

Before I could react, Sky’s hand brushed against my jaw, adjusting the collar of my suit.

My breath caught.

His fingers were warm, firm, and completely unfazed.

“There,” he said simply, smoothing out the fabric.

I exhaled a little too sharply. “You planning to dress me now, too?”

Sky didn’t even blink. “If it stops you from looking like you just rolled out of bed, sure.”

From the surveillance truck, Dunk’s voice crackled into my earpiece.

“Bro—DID HE JUST FIX YOUR COLLAR?”

Santa, cackling: “That’s not just fixing. That’s a whole-ass boyfriend move.”

I gritted my teeth and turned my mic off.

Sky, of course, was completely oblivious—his focus already shifting.

He leaned over, adjusting the small transmitter pinned to my lapel.

I wasn’t sure if it was the proximity or the fact that I could feel the warmth of his breath just near my ear, but my pulse skipped.

“This stays on you at all times,” Sky said, tone effortlessly professional. “If anything feels wrong, I need to hear it immediately.”

I nodded, a fraction slower than I should have.

Sky straightened, checking his own body cam. His fingers moved methodically, brushing over the wire in his cuff, the small earpiece in his right ear.

His movements were calm, controlled, second nature.

I should have been focusing on the mission.

Instead—I was watching him.

Watching the way he always double-checked my gear before his own.

Watching the way his brows furrowed slightly when he adjusted my mic.

Watching the way his hand lingered just a second too long before stepping back.

My chest felt tight.

I had seen Sky prepare for dozens of missions before. But something about this—the little details, the unconscious gestures—was making my heart do something stupid.

I cleared my throat. “You’re always this hands-on?”

Sky gave me a quick glance, unreadable. “Only when I have to be.”

He turned away before I could read anything into it.

Which was probably for the best, because—

My face was definitely warm.

---

Meanwhile, inside the surveillance van, Santa and Dunk were barely holding it together.

Dunk: “I can’t believe this. Sky is a whole-ass wife right now.”

Santa: “Did you see the collar fix? I felt that spiritually.”

Dunk: “My man is out here checking his comms second but checking Nani’s gear first?”

Santa, laughing: “Love is real, bro.”

Perth, completely done with them: “Can you two focus?!”

Dunk: “How am I supposed to focus when Sky is out there playing boyfriend role?”

Perth muted their mics.

---

The SUV rolled to a smooth stop outside Club Paragon.

Sky’s hand was already on the door handle, but before stepping out, he spoke lowly.

“One last time—who are you?”

I rolled my shoulders, slipping into Kit Wattanachai.

“Investor. Bangkok-based. Looking for clean money routes.”

Sky gave a slight nod. “And me?”

I smirked. “Tanapat Lertkun. My financial advisor.”

His lips barely curved. “Just an advisor?”

I tilted my head. “Well, you do like to handle things yourself.”

Sky scoffed. Then he opened the door and stepped out first.

I followed, slipping into undercover mode like a second skin.

As soon as we entered the club, I felt it—the shift.

The scent of whiskey and cigar smoke. The low hum of businessmen talking in hushed tones. The heat of too many eyes on us.

Sky murmured low, “Three guards near the back entrance.”

I barely nodded, voice just as low. “Cameras in the chandeliers. Eyes on us.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

Even though Sky had taken the lead, I needed him to see—I wasn’t just following.

-----

The VIP lounge was dimly lit, lined with velvet seating and a low glass table where a single crystal decanter of whiskey sat, half-empty.

Wasan Chaiyakul was exactly what I expected—slicked-back hair, an expensive suit worn just loose enough to seem effortless. The type of man who liked power but loved indulgence more.

His eyes scanned us the moment we stepped in, but instead of focusing on Sky—the one negotiating—his gaze locked onto me.

I barely resisted a sigh.

Sky didn’t move, but I felt the shift in his posture—more rigid, his presence suddenly heavier beside me.

Wasan smirked, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Well, well. Mr. Kit and Mr. Tanapat."

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

"I was expecting businessmen," he said, "not someone so... charming."

Oh.

So that’s how this was going to go.

Sky’s voice was cool. "We’re here to talk money, not charm."

Wasan barely flicked him a glance. "Oh, I never mix business with pleasure."

Then his smirk widened.

"But I do enjoy both."

Sky’s jaw tensed.

From the surveillance van, Dunk’s voice crackled into my earpiece:

"Yo. Did this dude just hit on Nani?"

Santa, amused: "I think he did."

Dunk: "Holy shit, bro. Does Wasan know Sky’s about to commit murder?"

Perth, deadpan: "No. He’ll make it look like an accident."

I resisted the urge to rub my temples.

"Shall we sit?" I said smoothly, ignoring their voices in my ear.

Sky moved first, deliberately taking the seat between me and Wasan—calm, composed, but obstructing direct access.

Wasan simply chuckled, pouring two drinks. "Protective, aren't we?"

Sky didn’t smile. "Cautious."

Wasan handed a glass toward me. "A gift."

Sky took it before I could. "He doesn’t drink."

I raised an eyebrow at Sky. I do drink.

Wasan watched the exchange with growing amusement.

"You know," he mused, "I assumed you were his boss, but now I’m wondering—"

Sky cut him off. "We’re here for business."

Wasan laughed. "Relax. It’s a compliment."

Inside the truck, Santa and Dunk were barely holding it together.

Dunk: "Sky just cockblocked a drink. That’s a new level of possessiveness."

Santa: "He’s not possessive. He’s ‘cautious.’"

Dunk: "Cautious my ass. My man just intercepted a whiskey like it was a live grenade."

Perth, sighing: "Focus. What’s the security feed showing?"

Dunk: "I don’t know, I’m too busy watching Sky malfunction."

Perth, exasperated: "I’m muting you both again."

---

The conversation finally turned to business.

Wasan leaned back. "Five million is a good start, but I need assurance you can move it discreetly."

Sky’s response was smooth. "We have connections through private assets. No unnecessary paperwork."

Wasan studied us. "And if I need to move something... bigger?"

Before Sky could answer, one of Wasan’s men approached and whispered in his ear.

Wasan’s expression darkened slightly.

Sky’s fingers twitched against the table—small, but I noticed.

Perth’s voice was suddenly sharp in my earpiece.

"Something’s off. Security just increased outside."

Joong: "They know something’s wrong."

My pulse stayed steady, but I could see Sky analyzing every exit route in his mind.

Then—

Wasan suddenly exhaled, shaking his head.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "Someone tried to sell me out to the police."

Sky didn’t react, but I felt his muscles coil beside me.

Wasan took another sip of his drink, then turned to me.

"But you wouldn’t do that, would you?"

The tension in the room spiked.

Sky’s voice was dangerously low. "Careful."

I met Wasan’s gaze evenly.

"If I were working with the cops," I said, voice smooth, "would I really be sitting here?"

A long pause.

Then—

Wasan suddenly laughed, slamming his hand on the table. "Good answer!" finally eased back, seemingly satisfied with our responses.

“Alright,” he said, sipping his whiskey. “I’ll have my people run the first transaction tomorrow.”

Success.

Sky nodded, tone calm but firm. “We’ll be in touch.”

I exhaled subtly. Mission complete.

But as we stood to leave, something felt off.

Wasan’s eyes flicked back to me, considering.

Then, with a slow smirk, he said, “Actually... why don’t you stay a little longer?”

I froze.

Sky’s entire body tensed.

The words were casual, but there was something behind them.

A test? A setup?

The tension spiked.

I didn’t hesitate. I played my role.

I smirked, tilting my head. “Tempting. But my advisor is a little too protective.”

Wasan laughed, glancing at Sky. “That's obvious?”

Sky’s expression didn’t change. “We don’t waste time.”

Wasan chuckled, shaking his head. “Shame. I was hoping for more conversation.”

Sky placed a firm hand on my lower back, guiding me away.

The moment we stepped out of the VIP lounge, his grip lingered just a second too long.

“Move,” he murmured.

I did.

But as we exited the club, my instincts nagged at me.

Something wasn’t right.

---

The second we stepped out of the club, Joong’s voice crackled in our comms.

“We’ve got a problem.”

Sky’s jaw tightened. “Report.”

Joong’s voice was sharp.

“We just intercepted a call. Wasan’s security flagged an ‘unusual presence.’ Someone’s been watching him.”

I felt my stomach drop slightly.

Sky’s eyes flicked to mine. Did Wasan suspect us?

Dunk’s voice cut in, tense for once.

“Guys... I don’t think this mission is as simple as we thought.”

Perth’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

“There’s movement near the safehouse. Someone’s tracking us.”

Sky and I exchanged looks.

We didn’t speak.

We didn’t need to.

The mission wasn’t over.

It was just getting started.