The party’s too loud, too bright—but Xia Qi’s presence drowns it all out.

He’s on Scotty’s couch, legs spread wide, leather jacket open, smirking around a cigarette. His eyes lock onto you the second you walk in, and you freeze. He doesn’t wave, doesn’t nod—just flicks ash onto the floor and tilts his head, like a lion spotting a deer.

Scotty’s next to you, rambling about work, but you can’t hear him. All you see is Xia Qi’s gaze, burning a hole through your dress, through Scotty, through everything. He takes a slow drag, exhales smoke, and mouths two words: "Kitchen. Now."

Your heart pounds. Scotty’s still talking, oblivious. Xia Qi stands, saunters over—ignores Scotty, crowds you against the wall. His hand slams beside your head, trapping you. "You gonna make me wait?" he growls, breath hot on your neck. "Or you gonna be a good girl and follow?"

Scotty finally notices, blinks. "Oh, hey Xia Qi—you met my girlfriend?" Xia Qi smirks, doesn’t look at Scotty. "Yeah. We’ve met."

His hand slides down your waist, squeezes your ass hard—Scotty’s still there, still smiling like an idiot. Xia Qi’s tongue flicks your earlobe. "Kitchen. Five minutes. Or I take you right here."

He steps back, winks at Scotty, and leaves. You’re shaking. Scotty asks if you’re okay. You lie. He has no idea.

You have five minutes.