Chapter - 10
1250 Words
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The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across Pete's small bedroom. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind still swirling with the events of the previous night. The photo of Vegas was on his nightstand, staring back at him like a silent reminder of the life-changing decision he had to make.
Marriage.
Pete's heart raced just thinking about it. He barely knew Vegas, but that one encounter at the pastry shop had left a deep impression. The way Vegas had looked at him-intense, unreadable, yet somehow magnetic-had stirred something inside Pete that he couldn't ignore. But was that enough to build a life together? Pete wasn't sure.
He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. His father's words echoed in his mind: "Take your time. Think about it." But how could he think clearly when his emotions were all over the place? Pete had always been a simple person, content with his small bakery and quiet life. The idea of marrying was overwhelming.
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Meanwhile, across the city, Vegas sat in his study, his fingers drumming impatiently on the desk. The weight of his father's ultimatum hung over him like a dark cloud. He couldn't shake the image of Porsche's face when he'd told him about the arranged marriage. Porsche had tried to hide it, but Vegas knew him too well. He'd seen the flicker of pain in his eyes, the way his smile didn't quite reach his face.
But how could he fight this? His father wasn't the type to back down, and Vegas knew that defying him would come with consequences.
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Back at the pastry shop, Pete tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to Vegas. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Vegas had looked at him, the way his presence had filled the room. There was something about him-something dangerous yet alluring-that drew Pete in, even though he knew he should be cautious.
As he carefully frosted a cake, Pete's thoughts wandered. What would it be like to be married to someone like Vegas? Would he be kind? Would he care about Pete's dreams and passions? Or would he be cold and distant, treating Pete like just an obligation?
Pete sighed, setting down the frosting spatula. He needed to clear his head. Maybe a walk would help. He stepped outside, the cool morning air brushing against his face. The streets were quiet, the city still waking up. Pete took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
As he strolled down the sidewalk, his mind drifted back to Vegas. The Alpha's sharp features and intense gaze had left a deep impression on him.
Lost in his thoughts, Pete barely noticed the world around him-until a loud honk shattered the quiet morning.
His head snapped up, and his eyes widened in alarm. A few feet ahead, a young man was walking carelessly across the road, completely unaware of the truck speeding toward him. The driver was honking furiously, but the man seemed lost in his own world, his steps slow and absentminded.
Pete's heart leaped into his throat. Without thinking, he sprinted forward, his legs moving faster than they ever had before. Time seemed to slow as he reached the man, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him out of harm's way just as the truck roared past, its horn blaring angrily.
The two of them tumbled onto the sidewalk, Pete landing hard on his hands and knees. Pain shot through his palm as it scraped against the rough pavement, and he winced, looking down to see a few scratches bleeding lightly. The other man, however, was unharmed, though he looked completely shaken.
"Are you okay?" Pete asked, his voice filled with concern as he turned to the man he had just saved.
The man blinked, his eyes wide with shock. He was handsome, with sharp features and a slightly rugged look, but his expression was one of pure disbelief. "I... I'm fine," he stammered, his voice trembling. "But you-you're hurt!"
Pete glanced at his hand, where a few drops of blood were welling up from the scratches. He smiled softly, trying to reassure the man. "It's just a scratch. Don't worry about it."
But the man wasn't convinced. His face was pale, and his hands were shaking as he helped Pete to his feet. "You saved my life," he said, his voice low and filled with gratitude.
"It's okay," Pete interrupted gently, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "You're safe now. That's all that matters."
The man looked down, his expression a mix of guilt and relief. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I wasn't thinking... I was just... lost in my thoughts."
Pete gave him a warm smile, his kind eyes softening. "It happens to the best of us. But maybe next time, try to keep your mind on the road, okay?"
The man nodded, still looking shaken. "I will. I promise."
Pete glanced around and noticed a few people staring at them, their faces filled with concern. He waved them off with a reassuring smile before turning back to the man. "Come on," he said, gesturing down the street. "My pastry shop is just around the corner. Let's get you cleaned up."
The man hesitated, his eyes flickering to Pete's injured hand. "But you're the one who's hurt. We should get you to a hospital."
Pete shook his head, his smile never wavering. "It's really nothing serious. A little antiseptic and a bandage will do the trick. Besides, I have a first aid kit at the shop."
The man still looked unsure, but he followed Pete as they walked the short distance to the pastry shop. The warm, inviting scent of fresh bread and pastries greeted them as they stepped inside. Pete's employees immediately noticed the commotion and rushed over, their faces filled with concern.
"Khun Pete, are you okay?" one of the waiters asked, eyeing the scratches on his hand.
"I'm fine," Pete assured them, his voice calm and steady. "Just a little accident. Can someone bring the first aid kit, please?"
One of the waiters hurried off and returned moments later with a small box of medical supplies. The man who had been saved-still looking a bit dazed-gently took the kit from the waiter and knelt beside Pete.
"Let me help," he said, his voice soft but determined.
Pete nodded, holding out his hand. The man carefully cleaned the scratches with antiseptic, his movements gentle and precise. Pete watched him, noticing the way his brows furrowed in concentration and the slight tremble in his hands. He could tell the man was still shaken by what had happened.
"Thank you," Pete said softly, breaking the silence. "You're really good at this."
The man looked up, his eyes meeting Pete's. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then, he smiled-a small, grateful smile that softened his features. "I should be the one thanking you," he said. "You saved my life back there. I... I don't even know how to repay you."
Pete chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't have to repay me. Just promise me you'll be more careful from now on."
The man nodded, his expression serious. "I will. I promise."
As he finished bandaging Pete's hand, he sat back, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "By the way," he said, his voice quieter now, "my name is Porsche."
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- Writer
