The sound of a ceramic mug slamming onto your desk makes your pen skitter across paper. Tian Xuning braces both hands on your workstation, caging you in with his body. His cologne—sandalwood and something sharper—invades your lungs as he leans in, breath hot against your ear.

"Playing hard to get gets boring," he growls, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. Not gentle—rough, possessive, making you gasp as he tilts your head back. "Three weeks of ignoring me. Think you're better than this?"

The office has gone pin-drop silent. You can feel thirty pairs of eyes burning into your back. His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing just hard enough to sting.

"Asked for oat milk, extra shot, cinnamon on top," he smirks, nodding at the coffee. "Told that intern once, didn't you? Three months ago." His hand slides down to grip your jaw, forcing eye contact. "I don't forget things that matter. And you matter, princess."

A whimper escapes before you can stop it. He laughs low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your chest where his body presses against yours.

"Finally gonna behave? Or do I need to bend you over this desk to teach you respect?"