ตีตราจอง น้องบุญธรรม

It was February 14th and The Grand Ballroom of The Valentino Grand Hotel was decorated with red and white ribbons and balloons floating in the air. The room looked like a sea of crimson and gold, a cathedral of wealth built to honor the day. Of course! It’s Valentine’s Day… the very day Julian Valentino loathed with every fiber of his being.

But to the elites of Manhattan and the hotel's stake holders,it was a night of pure romance, while to Julian, it was a reminder of a betrayal that had turned his heart into ice. 

Julian was sat in a corner with his best friend, Damian.

"You look like you're in a funeral, man. It's Valentine's Day, for God's sake. Smile." Damian remarked, leaning against the velvet curtain. He held two glass of wine, his own eyes scanning through the crowd.

Julian adjusted his cufflinks, his expression cold. "What's there to smile about?" 

"Because you're the man of the hour and the reason why we are here today."

"That's irrelevant."

"Always grumpy." Damian chuckled. "everyone knows you're the man of the company. So cheers to that."

"Whatever."

"Here, drink up. It's a 1945 Romanée-Conti. Even a saint still needs a vice when the world is this loud."

Julian took the glass, eyes scanning the crowd for his P.A "Maya isn't here yet?"

"Forget about her for now and cheers to five years of the Valentino International." Damian said clicking their glasses, "And also, five years of being the most unreachable man in New York City," Damian added, clinking his glass against Julian's. "Proud of you man."

Julian drained the wine down his throat in a single gulp. He was about to reply when the announcer's voice boomed through the loud speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome the number one business tycoon in the United Kingdom, the CEO of Valentino International... Mr. Julian

Valentino!"

The applause that followed next was loud and cheering.

"It's showtime," Damian said dropping his glass of wine as they both stood heading for the stage.

Julian stepped into the stage light, his black tuxedo absorbing the flash of numerous cameras.

He reached the podium, and his deep voice, he began;

"Five years ago, I stood on a patch of dirt and promised y'all a vision. Most of you called it an impossible dream, you said a man couldn't build an empire this fast without cutting through the corners. Forgetting that in this city, determination is all that matters."

He paused, a smirk playing across his lips. 

"But look around you today, The Valentino's empire isn't just a proof of hardwork, it's a testament to what happens when you treat your emotions as a liability. In this city, Love is a distraction, and at the Valentino international, we don't believe in luck, we prioritize discipline, integrity over..."

The words died in his throat.

A sharp electric pulse shot up his spine. The podium suddenly felt hot... no, his whole body was turning hot. A dead of sweat broke at his hairline, stinging his eyes.

"Julian?" Damian whispered urgently from the side of the stage.

Julian gripped the microphone hard until his knuckles turned white. "We... we prioritize integrity over..."

The faces in the crowd began to blur into red and white. His heart wasn't beating at the normal anymore... it was thundering, a frantic rhythm that made his lungs suddenly feel too small. At first, he thought it was the Valentine's Day trauma... the ghost of his ex- fiancée betrayal coming to humiliate him one more time.

Beneath his shirt, his skin felt like it was being electrocuted by a live wire.

"Is he okay?" a voice whispered from the front row.

Then the voices began to spread.

"What's going on?

"What's wrong with him?"

"Somebody help him."

"This is strange."

Not here, he prayed, his jaw locking so tight that it began to ache. Not in front of them.

Damian rushed to his side to hold him by his shoulder. "Julian what's wrong you?"

"Out," Julian gasped, the word barely a whisper. "I need to get out of here." 

He looked at the audience one more time, and didn't wait after that. He turned and strode off the stage with heavy steps. The Holy Billionaire was practically running while Damian ran after him.

The doors of his private elevator hadn't even fully closed before Julian collapsed against the mirrored wall. He tore off his tie, his fingers trembling so violently that he could even contain.

Damian stepped in just as the doors clicked shut."Julian, you're shaking! Talk to me." Damian shouted, his voice laced with concern, hovering over him.

"The wine..." Julian rasped, slamming his hand against the elevator wall."Damian... My blood is on fire. What the hell was in that wine?" He yelled.

Finally, they got to the hotel's private suite and Julian stumbled out, cashing against the edge of his glass desk. The cool surface felt like ice against his palms and the relief only lasted for a second.

"I'm calling a doctor right now." Damian said, pulling his phone out.

"No!" Julian roared, forcing himself to get back on his feet. "No doctors and No press. If this gets out, the stock, the image, everything burns. I already have enough to deal with tonight."

"Then what do you have me do?"

He staggered toward the suite bathroom, plunging his head into a basin of ice-cold water. He stayed under it until his lungs screamed, but when he pulled back, the heat was even worse. It wasn't just a fever anymore, it was a possessive, agonizing hunger clawing at his groin, shredding away his common sense.

"Julian, you need help," Damian paced the room, watching his friend claw at his own chest. "You've got a fever of a hundred and four. Talk to me!"

"I... I can't... explain it... in my skin," Julian groaned, falling to his knees. He gripped the edge of the marble tub, his muscles straining. He began reciting the company's quarterly earnings, a desperate attempt to use logic to kill the over rising lust. "Revenue... up... twelve percent... net... profit..."

His five years of celibacy, his saint status can't just be crumbled by something he couldn't even name.

"Damian," Julian gasped, reaching out to grab Damian's collar, pulling him down until they were eye to eye. Julian's skin was radiating heat like a furnace. "I'm losing. I'm going to break. Please help me."

"What do you need? Tell me!"

Julian's head hit the floor, his breath coming in heavy. He fought it. He fought it for three more minutes of agonizing silence, his body twitching as he tried to resist the primal urge to tear the room apart.

Finally, the saint broke.

"Get me a girl," he whispered, the words sounding like a confession of a crime.

Damian froze. "A girl? Julian, what did you just say?"

He waited for two more minutes before saying the word again.

"Get me a girl to stop this."

"Julian are you sure? Your reputation..."

"To hell with the goddamn reputation!" Julian screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. He grabbed a handful of Damian's shirt for the second time.

"I'm dying, Damian. I'm burning alive. Get someone here. Anyone. I don't care about the price. Pay it. Triple it. Just get a woman in this room before I tear off my own skin!"

Damian looked at the ruin of his friend, he didn't recognize this man. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over a contact he only used for his own unholy nights.

"I know of a girl, she's the best in the city, Julian.

But she doesn't work on Valentine's. She's off the grid."

"Call her," Julian rasped, his face pressed against the cold floor. "Please."

Damian stepped toward the window, the city lights of New York shimmering behind him. He hit the call button. It rang four times before a tired voice picked up.

"Damian, I told you yesterday. My phone is off and I'm off the radar for today. Unless the city is burning down, you shouldn't call me."

"The city is fine, Tee," Damian said, glancing back at the shivering billionaire friend on the floor. "But a very high-profile friend of mine is currently in need of your service... he's in a bad condition right now."

"Not my problem," Thalia snapped. "I don't do charity work for junkies, no matter who they are."

Damian chuckled. "And who said you're working for free? Come on Tee, he's going to pay you way better than I do."

"I don't care Damian... I'm having a busy day."

"Ten thousand," Damian said firmly.

"Ten thousand for?" Thalia asked sharply.

"Ten thousand dollar for your service. Just 30 minutes to get it. You walk in, put out his fire and walk out with some cool cash. How about that?" Damian asked with a smirk.

A long silence stepped stretched over the line.

"Ten thousand? Who is this guy, Damian? Is he a king or a criminal?"

"He's a man who has more money than time. You in?"

"For ten thousand? I'm already putting on my shoes. Just make sure to tell him l'm not staying a second more than that."

"I promise you. Just hurry up."

The line went dead.