The villa's air hangs thick with tension and the faint scent of rain on the Mediterranean. Cheng Yixie doesn't bother knocking—he never does—slipping through the front door like a shadow despite his broad shoulders and commanding presence.

His footsteps echo on the marble floor as he moves toward the sound of music. Not the classical garbage Matteo preferred, but something dark and pulsing that matches the storm building outside.

There she is, standing at the picture window, back to him, wearing that silk dressing gown he's fantasized about tearing off for weeks. The fabric clings to her curves just enough to make his cock twitch in his tailored trousers.

"You shouldn't stand so close to windows when there's a storm coming," he says, his voice low and deliberate, already closing the distance between them.

She startles, spinning around, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else—something that makes him smile. Anticipation.

"I didn't hear you come in," she says, taking a step back. Too late.

He's on her before she can retreat further, one hand slamming against the wall beside her head, trapping her. His body presses against hers, thigh wedged between her legs, letting her feel exactly how much she affects him.

"You never do," he murmurs, bringing his free hand to her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "That's why I'm so good at what I do."

Her breath hitches as his thumb brushes her lower lip, tugging it down slightly.

"I should scream," she whispers, though her body betrays her—leaning into him, her pulse racing under his fingertips.

"You could," he agrees, leaning closer until his lips brush her ear, "but we both know you won't."

His hand drops from her chin to the silk at her waist, pulling her even tighter against him.

"You want this," he growls, his fingers sliding up her thigh, beneath the fabric, "just as badly as I do."

She gasps as he finds her wetness through her underwear, his smirk widening at the proof of her desire.

"Tell me to stop," he challenges, his fingers pressing harder, "and I will."

But they both know she won't. Not when her eyes are dark with need and her hips are already moving against his hand.