Chapter 1 Firewall Breach: A Close-Quarter Glitch

          The atmosphere in the Public Relations department on the twenty-eighth floor was typically vibrant and full of life. Upbeat pop music playing softly from a Bluetooth speaker blended seamlessly with the lively chatter of young, fashion-forward employees who looked like they’d just stepped out of a magazine spread. Right now, however, the desk at the very front of the department was radiating such a murderous aura that absolutely no one dared to walk near it.

Lalita threw herself into her ergonomic chair so hard the wheels skidded backward. She crossed her slender arms over her chest, her striking face twisted into a fierce scowl. Her frustration had clearly skyrocketed past the boiling point after she had just stomped her stilettos all the way back from the IT department in a blind rage.

"Look at that face, you're pouting like a bulldog, babe," the shrill voice of Je Mod-Daeng, the flamboyant male creative sitting at the next desk, called out. He leaned over the partition to peek at her. "What happened? I saw you sprinting down to the fifteenth floor clutching your computer like a baby, so why did you haul it back with the screen still shut tight? Did the tech guy slap you with a reality check?"

"Don't even mention that godawful department to me, Je!" Lita snapped, her voice thick with annoyance. "Especially that deadpan Head of IT! Who the hell does he think he is? I just asked him to take a quick look at my laptop because it was an emergency, and he started quoting a million rules and lecturing me about the queue! So I gave him a piece of my mind and walked right out."

"Oh my god! You mean Khun Bhakin?!" Je Mod-Daeng gasped, slapping a hand over his chest, his eyes wide. "You're dead, Lita! That man is the company's untouchable treasure! The sexiest stoic man in this entire building, and you just blindly threw a tantrum at him? What if he blacklists you and refuses to fix your computer? What are you gonna do about your three o'clock presentation, huh?!"

That question pierced right through her heart. Lita froze for a second, her previous anger slowly being replaced by mounting panic.

Right... She had a multi-million-baht presentation with a VIP client in less than three hours. And every single file she needed was buried inside that expensive silver slab of metal, which had now officially been downgraded to a paperweight.

She pressed her lips tightly together, her slender fingers—adorned with bright red gel polish—drumming a rapid, anxious beat against her desk.

"Well... I already opened a support ticket in the system! I yelled—I mean, I emphasized the urgency in massive letters. The IT department has to send someone up here to look at it eventually anyway," she argued stubbornly, desperately trying to console herself.

But before Je Mod-Daeng could open his mouth to lecture his friend further, the bustling atmosphere in the PR department abruptly flatlined, as if someone had slammed the mute button. The lively chatter died in everyone's throats. Every single pair of eyes in the department turned in unison toward the main entrance of the twenty-eighth floor.

A tall, commanding figure was stepping into their territory.

Bhakin Siraprapawong appeared, a frigid, intimidating aura radiating from him. He wore a crisp white dress shirt with the top button undone. His sleeves were casually rolled up, revealing strong forearms corded with muscle and prominent veins—the undeniable result of a man who took excellent care of himself. In his right hand, he carried a compact, pitch-black toolbox. The razor-sharp eyes behind his silver-rimmed glasses swept the room for only a fraction of a second before locking precisely onto Lita’s desk.

"L-Lita, babe," Je Mod-Daeng whimpered, slapping his friend's arm frantically. "Khun Bhakin... Khun Bhakin is here in the flesh, walking over with a toolbox just for you!"

Lita whipped her head around to follow her friend's gaze. Her pupils dilated in pure shock, her plump lips parting slightly on instinct.

The stoic man who had cold-bloodedly rejected her just fifteen minutes ago was now marching straight toward her. His stride was elegant yet fierce, like a runway model on a mission. It was a sight that violently contrasted with the fluffy, glamorous aesthetic of the PR department.

The tall man strode past the other employees' desks, completely ignoring the dreamy stares and the hushed, admiring whispers erupting around him. He stopped dead in front of Lita's desk, setting the black toolbox down with a heavy thud that made her flinch.

"You..." Lita stammered, desperately trying to arrange her face into a normal expression. "Khun Bhakin... what are you doing here?"

"Here to fix the computer that its owner claims is urgently on fire," Bhakin replied, his deep voice perfectly flat and devoid of any emotion. "Stand up, please. I need workspace."

Lita blinked rapidly, a strange flutter rising in her chest. He had just preached about queues and strict protocols, yet here this arrogant Head of IT was, personally coming all the way up here to fix her laptop himself?

Her full lips slowly curved into a saccharine, drippingly sweet smile. Her confidence as the company’s resident hot girl surged back into her veins in full force. She stood up languidly, intentionally swaying her hips to let her form-fitting dress accentuate her hourglass curves to their maximum potential. She stepped back, leaning gracefully against the partition to let the tall man take her seat.

"And here I thought the Head of IT was so devoted to his queue that he wouldn't dare spare his precious time," she teased, a playful lilt in her voice as her eyes sparkled with seductive intent. "Or... couldn't you resist the call of your own heart, so you just had to skip the line to come see me yourself?"

Bhakin didn't respond immediately. He opened the dead laptop, his long fingers pressing and holding the power button to check for any response before he pulled a diagnostic cable from his toolbox.

"I came because I didn't want a certain employee crying to the executives and throwing my operational system into chaos," he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on the black screen. "Furthermore, your ticket was submitted with three consecutive exclamation marks. It violates the etiquette of professional business communication, so I had to come up here and reprimand you personally."

"You've got quite the sharp tongue, haven't you?" Lita pouted, making no effort to hide her exasperation.

She stepped closer to him, deliberately leaning over to peer at the screen from a hair's breadth away. Her ample curves, draped in the sheer V-neck blouse, brushed dangerously close to his broad shoulder. Her signature floral-fruity designer perfume—a heady, seductive sweetness—wafted directly into Bhakin’s senses.

The tall man went completely rigid. The muscles in his shoulders instantly locked with tension.

Lita hid a triumphant smirk. She noticed his physical reaction loud and clear. She purposely rested her slender arms on the edge of the desk, leaning down even lower so her neckline dipped, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the creamy cleavage beneath the fabric.

"So, what's wrong with my poor computer, Khun Bhakin? Is it in a deep coma? Will I be able to recover my presentation file?" she cooed, her voice practically a purr as she whispered right next to his ear. Her warm breath ghosted over the hard slope of his shoulder.

Bhakin clenched his jaw so hard the muscle ticked visibly along his sharp jawline. Beneath his icy, statue-like composure, his central nervous system was experiencing a massive glitch. The sickeningly sweet scent of the woman mere inches away, combined with the sexy view caught in his peripheral vision, was aggressively triggering a raw, primal instinct inside him.

This woman was a hazard. She knew exactly how beautiful she was and shamelessly weaponized her own body. She was actively trying to mess with his head, seducing him just to break his control and validate her own charm.

You really want to be taught a lesson, don't you, Lalita...

"Step back and keep your distance."

Bhakin’s voice dropped, noticeably harsher and a shade huskier than normal. His piercing eyes flicked up through his lenses to meet her striking face. His gaze was no longer empty; it now harbored a dark, smoldering spark—something so intense and predatory that Lita actually hiccuped.

"My workspace requires clear ventilation. If you continue to crowd my light and distract me with your suffocating perfume, I will pack up and head back downstairs right now."

The frigid threat wiped the seductive smile right off Lita’s face. She sprang backward, standing ramrod straight as if she’d been electrocuted.

"Suffocating?! This is a limited edition Chanel, for your information! Your nose is what's broken!" she snapped back, crossing her arms defensively as she reluctantly took a step back, following his order.

Bhakin secretly exhaled a long breath, venting the sudden heat pooling in his chest. He turned his attention back to the laptop. His long fingers swiftly plugged a diagnostic tool into the USB port, typing a series of run commands at a blistering speed. The previously dead screen suddenly flared to life, displaying a black command window with white text scrolling down rapidly.

"The system isn't broken," he announced after staring at the screen for about three minutes. "The motherboard simply overheated, triggering an automatic shutdown because you had far too many applications running. Furthermore, there's malware hidden inside those image files you so love to d******d and hoard. It drained the machine's resources until it crashed."

"Wait, then what about my presentation file?!" she yelped, completely forgetting her irritation from a moment ago.

"I'm running a program to recover the temporary files," he replied curtly, his large hands never stopping their relentless typing.

His intense, unwavering focus caught Lita entirely off guard. She found herself staring. It was the first time she truly noticed just how flawless the man's side profile was. The natural, sharp bridge of his nose. Those deeply cut, undeniably kissable lips. And when his sleeves were rolled up as he typed, the corded veins on his muscular forearms exuded a raw, masculine magnetism that made a woman's heart skip a beat.

Thump... Thump...

Lita quickly shook her head, banishing the ridiculous thoughts from her brain. What was wrong with her? A deadpan, foul-mouthed guy with the personality of a polar ice cap was absolutely not her type!

Less than ten minutes later, her familiar desktop reappeared, complete with her presentation folder looking exactly as it had before. Bhakin swiftly deleted the junk files and purged the problematic virus, neatly saving her work before pulling his diagnostic cable out and packing it into his toolbox.

"It's done. Your files are fully intact," he stated.

Lita lunged forward to check her screen, overflowing with relief. She practically squealed when she saw her billion-baht presentation had survived unharmed.

"Thank you so much, Khun Bhakin," she beamed at him. It was the brightest, most genuine smile Bhakin had ever seen since he met her—a smile stripped of all her calculated seduction, born of pure relief. "I always knew our Head of IT was brilliant and secretly super sweet. Otherwise, you wouldn't have hauled yourself all the way up here for me, right?"

Slipping effortlessly back into her flirty persona, she batted her eyelashes at him and reached out, letting her fingers gently trail along his muscular forearm as a thank you.

That feather-light touch sent a ten-volt electric shock straight into Bhakin’s nervous system. He looked down at the slender hand resting on his arm, then slowly lifted his gaze to lock squarely onto her beautiful, wide eyes.

The sharp eyes behind his glasses were no longer stoic. They flared with a fierce, predatory intensity, like a tiger zeroing in on its prey. Bhakin didn't jerk his arm away. Instead, he took a step toward her. The distance between them vanished, forcing Lita to tilt her head up, her breath hitching in her throat.

"I already told you, Khun Lalita..." His voice was a husky, low gravel that sent a delicious shiver down her spine. "...I am not kind."

The tall man leaned in close until their noses were practically brushing. Lita’s eyes went wide, her body frozen as if caught in a spell. The scent of his sporty masculine cologne mixed with cool mint hit her senses—an intoxicating aroma that felt dangerously threatening.

"I came up here because I wanted to deal with the 'virus' myself."

His gaze dropped to her plump, brick-orange lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to meet her eyes. The dark promise in his look made it abundantly clear that the 'virus' he was referring to was absolutely not the one inside her computer.

"Please take good care of your laptop. Because if there's a problem next time, I might not just come to 'fix the machine'."

With that, Bhakin pulled away from her frozen figure. He grabbed his toolbox with flawless elegance, acting as if absolutely nothing had happened, and turned on his heel to walk out of the PR department.

He left Lita standing there with her jaw dropped, her heart hammering frantically in her chest like a drum solo.

Damn it...

The top-tier PR queen, who had never once lost a game of seduction against any man, had just had all her defenses shredded by a single predatory glare from the stoic IT guy. She pressed a hand against her chest in total bewilderment, her face burning undeniably hot.

It seemed her little stunt to challenge the security protocols of Bhakin Siraprapawong had violently backfired. She had thrown herself at his firewall, only to get shocked so hard it nearly crashed her own system.