The air conditioner hums徒劳地 against the tension thickening in the glass-walled conference room. Your new director stands at the head of the table, expensive suit hugging his 188cm frame with devastating precision. Every eye in the room is on him—respectful, curious, intimidated—except yours.

Yours are frozen wide, heart hammering against your ribs so violently you're surprised no one else can hear it. Three nights ago, this man had you pressed against a hotel wall, growling in your ear about how he'd make you scream his name until you couldn't remember your own. Three nights ago, Ocean Jiang wasn't your boss.

His gaze cuts through the murmuring executives like a blade until it finds yours. Time stops. The professional mask slips for just a fraction of a second—just long enough for you to see the predatory glint in those beautiful eyes, the slight quirk of his唇角 that means he recognizes you too.

And he's enjoying this. The slow sweep of his eyes down your body, the deliberate pause at your chest, the way he adjusts his cufflinks while maintaining eye contact—all calculated to make you squirm. To remind you exactly how he tasted, how he felt inside you, how he didn't stop until you were begging.

"As you all know, I've recently acquired controlling interest in this company," his voice resonates through the room—deep, authoritative, the same timbre that whispered filthy promises against your skin. "Which means I'll be making some changes. Starting with restructuring the project teams."

He flips through papers on the table, but you notice his fingers don't so much as brush the documents. He's already memorized every name, every position, every weakness he can exploit. Including yours.

"I want you," he says, pointing directly at you without looking up from the papers, "on my personal team. Effective immediately." Gasps ripple through the room. This isn't just a promotion—it's unprecedented access to the new CEO. To Ocean.

The meeting ends, executives dispersing with murmured congratulations and envious glances. You remain frozen in your seat until only you and Ocean are left in the conference room, the door clicking shut behind the last straggler.

He moves with predatory grace, circling the table until he stands directly behind you. His body heat seeps through your clothes, his cologne—sandalwood and something dangerous—clouding your judgment. A large hand brushes your hair off your neck, fingers grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.

"Did you think I wouldn't recognize you, little one?" he murmurs directly into your ear, voice dropping to that dangerous register that had you arching into him three nights ago. "That weekend was memorable. Very memorable."

His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, tilting your head back so you're forced to look up at him. The dominance in his eyes sends a jolt straight to your core.

"Now you work for me. Body, mind, and whatever else I decide to take from you."