Chapter Text
Dunk sits across from his parents in the dining room of their family estate. Everyone eats quietly, close to no conversation, business as usual. That’s until his father sets down his wine glass with deliberate weight, the sound too loud in the quiet room.
"We’ve arranged your marriage," his father says, voice casual like he’s announcing a new family moved in next door.
Dunk’s fork slips from his fingers, clattering against the porcelain. He stares. "Excuse me?"
“Don’t act so surprised, son. You knew this has been in talks.”
His mother folds her hands neatly, but her knuckles are white. "Joong Archen Aydin. His family’s investment will stabilize ours. The merger will secure everything including the business, our standing-"
Dunk cuts her off, voice rising. "You’re selling me? To Joong Aydin?"
His father’s jaw tightens. "Watch your tone."
"Why me?" Dunk demands, hands gripping the edge of the table.
"Realistically speaking, you’re the oldest," his father says bluntly. "The most eligible. Phuwin is too young to marry. He’s in university. And unlike your brother Perth, you haven’t dragged our name through the mud."
The mention of his brother’s gambling debts hits like a slap to the face. Dunk’s throat tightens. His mother reaches across the table, her voice softening.
"Dunk, please. You’ve always been the one who cares the most about this family. Certainly you understand. If there was another way-"
"But there isn’t," his father interrupts impatiently as if to insinuate that the decision is already set in stone and a discussion right now is pointless. "Not without consequences we can’t afford."
Dunk’s chest burns. He does care. Too much. That’s the problem. He wants to help, wants to fix things. But the thought of being tied to Joong, that arrogant, condescending prick he’s had the misfortune of interacting with at events, makes his skin crawl.
His voice drops, bitter. "So we’re groveling to the Aydins now?"
His father’s eyes flash. "It’s not groveling. They need something from us too."
Dunk frowns. "What?"
"Connections. Influence in sectors they’re struggling to penetrate. This isn’t charity, it’s a trade."
Dunk exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as his mind races. He hates this and the fact that he’s even considering it. But the image of his brother’s reckless choices, his mother’s tired eyes, the employees who depend on their family’s business- all weighs on him.
"Has Joong been told?" he mutters.
His father nods. "He’s already accepted. Our families will meet soon to finalize details."
Dunk laughs, humorless. "Of course he accepted. He gets to lord this over me forever."
His mother’s voice is pleading now. "Dunk, please. We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary."
Dunk looks away, out the window at the sprawling estate grounds—the home he loves, the future he thought he’d have. It all feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.
He swallows hard.
"You didn’t ask, but fine." Dunk sounds as indignant as he feels.
His mother’s voice is kind, but her words imply there is no negotiating out of this. "Dunk, you’ve always known this was a possibility. The Aydins are powerful. This is an honor."
An honor. Dunk grits his teeth. He wants to scream… yet the truth remains that their family is drowning, and Joong’s money is the lifeline.
He stands, his voice low. "When?"
"Three months," his father says.
Dunk leaves without saying another word.
***
Joong’s office is all sharp edges and glass, just like him. He sits in his office chair, looking sharp in a navy suit. His father leans against the desk, arms crossed.
"The Natachai merger is finalized. You’ll marry their son in three months."
Joong doesn’t look up from the contract he’s reviewing. "I figured."
His father raises an eyebrow. "No objections?"
Joong flips a page. "Would it matter?"
A pause, then his father sighs. "Make it work. Their connections are useful, but their finances are a mess. Clean it up."
Joong finally meets his gaze. "I always do."
His father leaves. Joong exhales, rubbing his temples. Another duty. Another box checked.
He picks up his phone and dials his assistant Book’s number. "Reschedule my meetings next month. I have a wedding planning process to be available for."
***
A soft knock sounds at Dunk’s bedroom door. He doesn’t turn from the window where he’s been staring blankly at the city lights.
"Come in," he says flatly
The door opens and Dunk’s immediate younger brother Perth steps inside, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looks smaller than usual, like he’s trying to disappear into his own hoodie.
"I heard the news," Perth mutters, staring at the floor.
Dunk finally turns to face his brother who won’t even meet his eyes. Perth’s usual loud, careless energy is gone, replaced by something brittle and guilty.
Dunk feels bad for hi, "Are you okay?"
Perth lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. "How can you ask me that?" His voice cracks. "When I’m the reason you’re being sold off to that-"
"Stop." Dunk cuts him off, sharper than he means to. He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Taking all the blame won’t change anything. What’s done is done. Besides, your gambling debts alone aren’t the reason why the company is collapsing."
Perth finally looks up, eyes red-rimmed. "But you’re going to be married to that pompous jerk. And he’ll never let you forget it. He’ll act like he’s some savior pulling us out of the gutter."
Dunk shakes his head. "It’s not like that. His family needs our shipping lanes and distribution networks just as much as we need their cash and global clients. This isn’t a rescue. It’s a trade."
Dunk almost rolls his eyes at himself because now he sounds like their father.
Perth flinches. "That doesn’t make it better, Phi."
"I didn’t say it did." Dunk’s voice is tired, but not angry. He could never be angry at Perth for too long. They’ve been close since childhood and Perth isn’t a bad person. He’s just made some mistakes.
Silence falls. Perth scuffs his house slipper against the carpet, jaw working like he’s fighting back words. When he speaks again, it’s barely above a whisper. "Dad advised HR at our company to take me off the payroll. I got fired today."
Dunk goes very still. "What?"
"The Vice chairwoman of your future husband’s company, Khun Namtan told him she doesn’t want me near the company after the merger."
“But the merger hasn’t even happened. Who gave her the right to meddle in our family business?”
Perth’s laugh is raw. "Can’t even blame her. Who’d trust a gambling addict with their business? They’re probably protecting their interests."
Dunk’s hands curl into fists. He wants to be furious at Perth, at Namtan, at Joong, at the whole damn situation. But all he feels is the dull, aching weight of helplessness.
"You’re not just that," Dunk says finally. "You’re not just your mistakes, Perth."
Perth’s face crumples. "P’Dunk, I’m…I’m sorry for everything."
"If you’re really sorry," Dunk interrupts, voice serious, "then work on yourself. Get help. You’re a grown man now and you can’t keep doing this."
Perth swallows hard. For a second, Dunk thinks he might argue or deflect with a joke or lash out like he usually does. But then his brother’s shoulders slump, and he nods.
"I’ll try," Perth whispers.
Dunk exhales as the anger drains out of him, leaving only exhaustion. He steps forward and pulls Perth into a rough hug. Perth stiffens for a second before melting into it, his face buried in Dunk’s shoulder.
Dunk holds him tight, eyes burning. He doesn’t know how to fix any of this but for now, this is enough.
***
Dunk’s phone feels heavy in his hand as he dials his best friend’s number. The call connects after two rings.
"Hey," Force’s voice comes through, warm and playful and familiar. "Was just about to text you. You free for-"
"I’m getting married," Dunk cuts in.
The line falls Silent, and the, "What?" Force cries incredulously
Dunk leans back against the couch in the living room, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "To Joong Archen Aydin. In three months."
Another beat of silence passes then Force stammers a few times before declaring, "Okay, drinks tonight. The usual place."
Dunk doesn’t argue. "Yes please before I combust."
***
There’s a reason this is their usual hangout. It’s dimly lit and private, never too crowded, with affordable beer and decent music. Recently Dunk is in no position to be throwing money around on expensive booze and his friend understands it well. Force is already there when Dunk arrives, several bottles of beer sweating on the table in front of him.
Dunk slides into the seat across from him and immediately takes a long swig.
Force watches him carefully. "So. Joong Archen Aydin."
Dunk grimaces. "Yeah."
"I’ve seen him around. Never met him, but..." Force trails off, then shakes his head. "Look, I won’t lie, I haven’t heard great things. The guy’s got a reputation for being an asshole."
Dunk lets out a humorless laugh. "That’s putting it mildly I think. I have met him and he was cold and dismissive, treated me like a nonentity. Good news is he treated everyone else the same way." Dunk smiles somberly.
Force leans forward. "But you’re not some pushover. If anyone can handle him, it’s you."
Dunk picks at the label on his beer bottle. "It’s not about handling him. It’s about being stuck with him for life, bro."
Force frowns, looking sympathetic. "This is worse than when my parents sent me to manage a branch in the outskirts. Three months, you said?"
"Yeah. Our families want us to ‘get to know each other’ first. Like that’ll make a difference."
Force snorts. "Right. Because everyone’s going to believe this is some love story."
Dunk rolls his eyes. "Exactly."
They drink in silence for a moment. Then Force grins, nudging Dunk’s foot under the table. "Well. If this is it, then we’re sending you off properly."
Dunk raises an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning a trip. Just us. I won’t even bring a boyfriend on the trip. One last hurrah before you’re a married man."
Dunk chuckles despite himself. "Where to?"
Force shrugs. "Doesn’t matter. Beach, mountains or whatever. Somewhere we can get stupid drunk and you can forget about all this for a few days."
Dunk considers it, then nods. "Have I mentioned today that I love you so much?"
“It’s been an entire two weeks.” Force grins in that way that makes him look charming and boyish all at once.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, bro.” Force clinks his bottle against Dunk’s. "To your freedom."
Dunk smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "To my freedom."
***
Inside the VIP lounge of the gentlemen’s club Joong frequents, he sits in a plush leather chair, one leg thrown over the other, his fingers idly swirling the vodka in his glass. The ice cubes clink softly as he brings the drink to his lips, his gaze distant.
Across from him, Pond leans back, scrolling through his phone before pausing on a photo Joong had shown him. It’s a picture of Dunk Natachai Boonprasert, caught mid-laugh at some event, his eyes bright even in the grainy image.
Pond studies it for a moment, then shrugs. "At least he’s handsome," he says, tossing the phone onto the table between them.
Joong scoffs, tilting his head slightly. "Yeah, but what does that do for me?"
Pond grins. "He’ll look good on your arm. And you are into keeping up appearances."
Joong takes another sip, the alcohol burning his throat a little. He doesn’t answer right away, his mind turning over the reality of the marriage he’s agreed to.
After a beat, Pond’s expression sobers. He watches Joong carefully, then asks, "So you didn’t fight this marriage plan at all?"
Joong’s fingers tighten around his glass. "What’s the point?"
Pond shakes his head, seeing right through him. "You never could fight your dad. He’s a bully."
Joong’s jaw clenches, but his voice remains even. "It’s not as bad as you make it sound. I want this too…for the business."
Pond raises an eyebrow. "But it’s forever, Joong."
Joong shrugs, his gaze dropping to his drink. "It’s not like I have big hopes of finding love. I know what I am."
The words hang between them, heavy with meaning. No one would want me anyway.
Pond’s usual playful demeanor fades. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Even workaholic, pompous, condescending jerks deserve love, you know." He pauses, then adds in a softer tone of voice, "You never know. Maybe you’ll find someone who understands and matches…your whole deal."
Joong glances up, meeting Pond’s eyes. For a moment, something vulnerable and almost hopeful flickers in his expression before he smirks. "That’s you, but unfortunately, you date someone else."
Pond grins, the tension breaking. "I’d marry you myself if I could. But I love love too much."
Joong chuckles, shaking his head. They’ve had this conversation before, in different ways, ever since university where they’d met as two arrogant freshmen who somehow became inseparable. Pond, the social butterfly who wore his heart on his sleeve, and Joong, the unfriendly one who pretended he didn’t have one.
Pond reaches for his own drink, swirling it thoughtfully. "Just promise me one thing."
Joong lifts an eyebrow. "What?"
"Don’t make Dunk’s life hell just because they’re no feelings involved. He’s just a victim of circumstances too."
Joong’s smirk fades. He looks away, out the window at the city lights. "No promises."
Pond sighs, but he doesn’t push.
***
The car hums along the highway, the city shrinking in the rearview mirror as Dunk heads to the airport. His phone buzzes and he reaches for it. It’s an unknown number. He answers absently. “Yes?”
"Khun Natachai? This is Book Kasidet, Khun Joong Aydin’s assistant." The voice on the other end says politely and professionally.
Dunk barely suppresses an eye roll but doesn’t bother with pleasantries. "What can I do for you, Khun Book?"
"Khun Aydin requests your presence today for-"
"I’m on my way out of the country," Dunk cuts in, voice sharp. "And next time, tell my future husband to call me himself if he wants to see me."
He hangs up before Book can respond, tossing his phone onto the seat beside him. The audacity of Joong sending his assistant to summon him like some employee.
Jerk.
***
Book stands stiffly in front of Joong’s desk, hands clasped behind his back. "He said he was leaving the country. And that... you should call him yourself next time."
Joong scoffs, looking up from his papers. His fingers tighten imperceptibly around his pen. "So that’s how Natachai is going to be."
"Should I insist, sir?"
Joong’s jaw clenches as he considers, but he shakes his head. "Let him be."
Book nods and turns to leave, but not before catching the way Joong’s gaze lingers on his phone, as if debating whether to reach out himself.
Book steps into Joong’s office again the next day, this time holding a tablet. His expression is carefully neutral. "Khun, you may want to see this."
Joong glances up, impatient. "What?" If he doesn’t leave now he’ll be late for his meeting.
Book sets the tablet on the desk, displaying photos Dunk has posted from his trip. In them, Dunk and Force lounge on a beach, drinks in hand, shoulders pressed together in one shot. In another, Force has an arm slung around Dunk’s neck, both of them grinning at the camera like old lovers.
Joong’s fingers twitch where they rest on the desk. "What do these look like to you, Book?"
Book hesitates. "They’re... apparently close friends, sir."
Joong’s voice drops, icy. "I didn’t ask what they are. I asked what they look like in these pictures."
Book clears his throat. "...Like a couple, sir."
"Exactly." Joong leans back in his chair, eyes dark. "I can’t have my fiancé frolicking with other men like this, can I, Book?"
"No, sir. It’s not good for your image. If the engagement is announced after he’s been seen like this, people will talk. They’ll question the timeline. It’ll be obvious the marriage is... convenient."
Joong stares at the photos a moment longer. Dunk’s carefree smile, the easy way he leans into Force’s touch. It grates on him in a way he can’t quite name.
Finally, he looks up at Book, expression stormy. "Dial Natachai’s number. Now."
Book doesn’t hesitate. "Yes, sir."
***
Dunk lounges on the hotel bed, still damp from the ocean, his skin warm from the sun. Force sits beside him, scrolling through his phone, laughing at something on the screen. He’s probably chatting with his boyfriend.
The balcony doors are open, letting in the salty breeze of El Nido’s white sand beaches. Dunk’s phone rings, and it’s another unknown number.
He answers lazily.
"Hello, darling." The voice is smooth, dripping with sarcastic affection.
Dunk frowns. "Who is this?"
"Your real man."
Dunk tenses. Force glances up, sensing the shift in his friend’s posture.
"What do you want?" Dunk snaps.
Joong doesn’t waste time. "You’ve had enough fun with your friend. End your vacation now and come back here to assume your role as my loyal, loving boyfriend and soon to be fiancé."
Dunk’s brain stutters. "What?"
"Since you don’t think, I’ll do your thinking for you."
"Excuse me-"
"You’re posting pictures of yourself nestled against another man," Joong cuts in, voice sharpening. "Didn’t you consider what that would look like? Tongues are already wagging."
Dunk swallows, his fingers tightening around the phone. He hadn’t thought- no, he had thought, and he hadn’t cared. It was just Force for goodness’ sake. Just harmless fun.
"Again, get your butt back here before you cause me more trouble," Joong says, each word deliberate. "Or I’ll get really mad."
"Joong-"
The line goes dead.